The Boy Witch

Chapter 10

A few days later, after school, Miles was at the grocery store, buying food for the week. He had managed to wrangle a bit of money from his mother, that she would not be able to spend on booze, to pay for groceries. But there was not much, and he had to be picky about what he bought. Miles could not buy much produce or meat. He always bought a lot of pasta and noodles because they were cheap and filling.

Miles enjoyed grocery-shopping. He found it relaxing, walking around pushing his cart. However, he disliked calculating what he could afford. He often had to put back items that could not fit in the budget anymore. Later in the evening, the store was quiet with few other patrons, and all he could hear was the buzzing of the fluorescent lighting.

Miles tried to buy things that were on sale. He found a box of his favorite cookies for cheap and added it to his cart. As he was shopping, the other shoppers were eyeing him curiously. They were surprised to see a teen grocery-shopping all alone.

When he arrived at the checkout, Miles panicked quietly. Had he calculated correctly? As the cashier scanned his few items, Miles counted his money frantically. He found a bit of unexpected change in his pocket and added it to his total. He looked on at his total purchase as it rose slowly. Finally, it crossed the line. Miles cringed.

The cashier announced the total.

“I have to put some things back,” Miles explained, giving the cashier a pained smile.

“Sure, no problem,” the cashier smiled, too, a compassionate smile.

Miles started scouring his groceries, most of them already in bags.

“I need that,” he spoke to himself, “I need that, too.” Miles hesitated. He could not find a single item that was extraneous, except for the cookies. He sighed painfully.

“How much are you missing?” The man in line behind him asked. The man had a bushy mustache, a ball cap and a beer belly.

Miles turned around. “A couple dollars,” he responded. “I’ll just put something back.” Miles waved his hand, trying to politely dismiss the man.

“I got it,” the customer continued. He looked through his own wallet and found some change he handed directly to the cashier. Maybe he was paying because it was faster than wait for Miles to decide, and he was tired of waiting.

Miles handed all his money to the cashier, who completed the transaction. Miles turned to the man behind him. “Thank you,” he said sheepishly, embarrassed.

“No problem,” the man answered. His reply was not warm, but matter-of-fact, impatient.

Miles grabbed his bags of groceries and walked away, looking down ahead of him. The bags were heavy, but he was used to lugging groceries around. He almost wanted to cry. It was not the first time that somebody paid for the rest of his groceries, and every time it embarrassed him to no end. He was not sure what it was about him that attracted people’s pity. Maybe it was his plain clothes, or his messy blond hair, or his big, bright blue eyes. Maybe it was because he was just a kid, shopping for groceries alone. Maybe it was all of it.

Miles walked home, through the crisp, fall air. The sky was filled with grey clouds threatening to unleash a cleansing rain. Miles walked with a rushed step, looking forward to dropping the grocery bags on the floor of his home, and trying to avoid any rain that might fall.

He managed to stay dry, thankfully. When he arrived home, Miles was greeted by Mortimer rushing to meet him at the door, and by a familiar crash, coming from her bedroom. His mother had fallen. He put down the groceries in the kitchen.

“Mother?” he asked.

“In my bedroom!” Mallory yelled.

Miles rushed to help her. He found her sprawled on the ground near her unkempt bed. She must have tried to roll out of bed and fell onto the floor. He helped her up, struggling to lift the heavy woman. When she was upright, Mallory pushed her son off her. He noticed that she was shaking. She must have slept all day and not drank.