Painted Crowns (on hold)

(4) Shopping Carts on Spine Hill

"Who in their right mind drinks this much orange juice?" I ask in wonder as I place the second bottle amongst the loaves of white bread and frozen lasagna.

The freezer section of this chills me to the bone. Why would they place the air-conditioners right above the frozen aisle? I mean, it saves on freezing technology I guess. Isn't it just cold air inside the cases that keeps everything frozen in there? If that's the case, why even air condition this part of the store? Unless they are experimenting in nitrogen-based freezing techniques. They could just freeze it all instantaneously. Is that okay to eat?

"We do! Breakfast is precious, Levy."

"Precious enough to drain more than a gallons worth of orange juice?"

"Yes!"

"It's not even the pulp-less kind, Luca. That is a sin." I hang on the bar of the cart, lazily pushing along as Luca mulls about the aisles. He references his list with every three steps, running his hand through his hair and gnawing on his lip in thought.

"The hell do you know about sin? You didn't ever go to church."

"I went for weddings and funerals. Sometimes we went on Christmas Eve when my felt a crisis coming on." I think back fondly on those chilly nights in the church on Stone Drive. The stained glass depictions of Jesus and Mary watched me like a hawk. "I hid some goldfish crackers in my dress every time we went. I felt every single pair of stained glass eyes on me when I ate them."

"Did your mom ever find out?"

"Duh, who do you think gave me the idea to bring them?"

"Tell your mom I love her more now," he laughs and ushers me into another aisle. Bags of chips threaten to cascade from their high shelves and bury me in their delicious embrace. Luca crouches down beside me, scanning through the cheap knock offs of Doritos and Lays chips. "You know what? Now I'm craving goldfish."

He continues to squat, but moves across the aisle to the crackers. Fish Snax, the premium knock off of the delightful snack, hide low on the shelf. He snatches a bag and tosses them into the cart like a basketball. One item down, he scans the list again.

"You can tell her yourself when she comes on Thursday." I remind.

"Isn't that tomorrow?" Luca checks his phone for a moment. He slides it open, "Yeah, Thursday's tomorrow."

"Is it really?" I ask quietly. Thursday can't be tomorrow. June's funeral is on Thursday. That can't be tomorrow? It still feels like it should be a couple days away. "Damn."

"Tomorrow's gonna suck."

"Yeah, it is."

He rises to stand beside me again, his eyes never leaving the list in his hand as he slides his phone back in his pocket. His phone is ancient. I can almost see the cobwebs and hieroglyphics. "So, we're almost done. Got to pick up peanut butter and some toothpaste, and then we can head out of here."

I'm dragged about the store like a child pulled away from morning cartoons to go shopping with their mother. I push the cart aimlessly, noting that every single brick in this store is different from what I remember. Barney's Groceries used to be full of character, with colored bricks that lined the outer rim like a roller rink and friendly cashiers that remembered your name. Now, it's full of blank-faced teenagers and sparkling white tile floors. The fluorescent lights overhead buzz their way into my brain. It's numbing.

"You zone out a lot," Luca says quietly. He leans on the basket of the cart, forcing me to look him in the eye and come around again. "Are you okay? Like, for real?"