took the money to buy something for Mom, to do something nice for her so she knows I’m not the worst person in the world.
But lip gloss.
I ignore the urge and turn right toward Whole Foods. Now that I know it’s not a big deal to ride across the highway, I’ll come back and go to the Commons another time.
There’s a bike rack outside Whole Foods, so I lock my bike up and take off my helmet, trying to fluff a little life back into my matted-down hair. I grab a cart even though I’m just getting a few things and toss my helmet in the basket.
This Whole Foods isn’t as big as the one Dad and I go to back in Atlanta, but I’m not looking for anything that fancy today, and I assume they’ll have the basics.
My first stop is the produce department, where I ignore the prebagged bunch of lemons and grab an empty bag to fill with the juiciest ones I can find. My eyes are drawn to the brightest ones that don’t have any wrinkling on their skin, just the way I learned on the Food Network.
I take two lemons in my hands. They both smell good and feel heavy for their size, but the first one doesn’t give when I squeeze it, which I know means it won’t yield much juice. The second one has the perfect amount of give, so I drop it in the bag and continue looking for six more that are just as ripe.
Next, I roll my cart over to the fresh herbs. Mint had been my first thought, but now that I’m here, I’m thinking basil or rosemary might be better. I reach for all three containers even though I can’t afford to get them all. I smell them one at a time, imagining how each one would taste mixed with freshly squeezed lemons and sun tea.
I put the rosemary back and try to decide between the mint and the basil. On one hand, the whole point of this was to elevate Mom’s palate and show off mine, and basil is much more creative. But I know mint will be good, and maybe it’s better to take baby steps with Mom.
Holding the two herbs in my hand, I think back to how great it was when I stopped playing it safe and flew across the highway, so I put the mint back and drop the basil in my cart.
I find everything else I need quickly, then make my way to the register. I don’t understand why most people, including Mom, complain about going to the grocery store. It’s so much fun, picking out different ingredients and imagining how they’ll come together. After the thing I don’t want to think about happens, maybe I’ll take over the grocery shopping. As long as Mom pays for it and lets me decide what to buy.
“Find everything you need?” the cashier, a woman with blond dreadlocks, asks.
“Yes, thank you.” I try to make my voice sound as mature as I can. She hands me my change as if it’s not weird for a fourteen-year-old to be grocery shopping for herself.
Maybe this will work . . . Pushing the cart back toward the front of the store, I consider the logistics of it all. While there is no doubt in my mind I could do a better job at the grocery shopping than Mom would, I don’t know if I’d be able to pull it off. Especially since I won’t even have my learner’s permit for another year.
As I set the grocery bag into the basket of my bike, the realization of what I’d been thinking makes me sick to my stomach. Something must be seriously wrong with me, making plans for when Dad’s gone as if it’s not a big deal. And it’s the biggest deal. It’s the worst thing in the entire world and I’m worried about who’s going to go grocery shopping? Maybe Mom’s right—maybe I am a horrible, selfish person.
I put my helmet back on. It hurts a little going over my ears, but the hurt feels good. I deserve that, and a lot worse.
Riding back over to the intersection of Highway 98 and Crystal Beach, it doesn’t seem like as big of a deal anymore. Instead of butterflies in my stomach, it just feels like there’s a big, empty hole.
The light turns green and I pedal across at a normal speed, back down Crystal Beach and back down Luke