Fault

Part 45

Fallon Connelly 9:39 a.m.

It turns out the resale shop is the best last minute decision I've ever made. After explaining to Justin and Ry-Ann that we aren't stealing, and that we'd come back and pay for everything we take, we are able to sort through the secondhand kid clothes to finally replace Ry-Ann's ripped shirt and Justin's blood stained outfit. Cal pulls out his school notebook and takes down the prices of the things we take. Ry-Ann picks out a pink t-shirt with bubbles on it and a red sweatshirt. Justin can't be talked out of a tiny faded Rams jersey, but we do find him a pair of jeans that fit. Ry-Ann makes him pick out a sweater, even though he refuses to cover up his new jersey. Marc takes Cal's flashlight and leads the kids over to the shoe section in the back of the store.

Cal walks back to the window and gently removes his sweatshirt from where it has been impaled by the glass. He holds it up to the gray light of the window, which reveals wide holes that have ripped through the back of it.

I can only see the back of his head but the slump of his shoulders shows his disappointment. His quick action on the street impressed me. I never really understood that all the time I was being my mom's caretaker, Cal was being mine. He has always been there to lay his sweatshirt across the sharp edges of my life.

I quickly find the men's sweatshirt rack, sorting through the sizes to find another blue hoodie, though not the same shade as the one Cal just destroyed. The only thing these two have in common is that both are a gift from me. I leave the hanger on the rack and rip the price tag off as I walk. When Cal turns from the window he finds me standing there, holding a new dry sweatshirt.

He smiles and steps up to me, draping the soaked and ripped hoodie over the mannequin on the floor. I hold the new one out to him.

"Happy very early birthday," I say.

He takes the sweatshirt but purposely catches my hand in the process. His palm is warm and he uses his thumb to rub circles on the top of my hand. The hairs on my arms rise up, but I don't think it's because I'm cold. He steps up to me, so close that the wet strands of his hair drip down and hit my cheek. I feel frozen where I stand, unsure of what to say or do. I realize what's coming only a second before it happens. Only a second before his lips touch mine.

My body stiffens in response. An automatic reaction I couldn't stop even though my brain isn't sure if I mind the kiss. Cal notices my response immediately and pulls back to look at me. I try to think of something to say, to explain, but I don't have a clue what I'm thinking. How could I possibly explain anything to him?

"I'm sorry," I say, knowing it's not enough.

He shakes his head and sticks the new sweatshirt under his arm. Before I can say anything else he walks by me toward the back of the store, leaving my feet, and my heart, still frozen in place.