it. It might come with a tilt of her head, an uncertain expression, but always came that awareness, something everyone else seemed to know but him.
And it wasn't just young women, either. Kids, old men, checkout clerks, the guys who worked at the oil change place. That's why he liked the routines in his life. He and Elaine shopped at certain places, saw certain people-people who got to know him and treated him almost normal.
Today it happened with an old woman in the parking lot at Albertson's. As he and Elaine headed toward the grocery store, he studied the one white cloud in the sky and thought it looked something like a teapot Aunt Erma used to have-until a heavy sigh drew his eyes back down to earth. The gray-haired woman stood at the trunk of her car looking annoyed; she'd just loaded her groceries, but the cart return was nowhere near. He wasn't even thinking about being different as he stepped over to her and said, "I can take it."
Her reaction was a wide-eyed head tilt, the look people gave sleeping puppies through the window at the pet store in the mall. "Why thank you, young man." He just nodded, thinking it a simple favor to earn such gratitude. He didn't put the cart in line with the rest, though, just kept it with him and pushed it through the automatic doors into the store.
"Hello there, Elaine, Davy."
They both looked up to see Mr. Pfister, the store manager. "Hi," Elaine said, and Davy smiled.
"Hot enough for ya, Dave?" "Yeah," he said.
"Wait here," Elaine told him, so he stopped the cart in front of the floral department. As Elaine perused the sales fly-er, it gave him a chance to look at the flowers and greenery. It was his favorite place in the store because it was like an indoor garden. Leafy plants hung from low wooden beams built especially for them, and big circular stands of flowering pots left just enough room to move the cart through.
"Excuse me."
He looked down to see a dark-haired girl in a wheelchair trying to roll in front of his cart.
"Oh. Sorry." He quickly backed it up to let her get by.
She wheeled herself behind a table he hadn't noticed right in the middle of the garden, its top all scattered with snapdragons and carnations. She wore a name tag. DAISY MARIA RAM IREZ.
She drew a green block of foam from somewhere behind the table and began sticking the loose flowers into it. He watched her every move, how delicately she handled the flowers and how she knew just what to do with them, putting them together to make something new where nothing had been before. A barrette held her long, dark hair back: from her face, and her brown eyes squinted and narrowed as she concentrated. It was easy to watch her work since she didn't seem to notice he was still there. He thought about saying something.
Pretty flowers.
You have small hands. Hot enough for ya?
But nothing seemed right, and it was making his stomach hurt to think about it, so he gave up and just watched her. Her lips were the same color as a plum.
"Ready?"
He jerked to attention and met his sister's eyes. "Uh, yeah."
After taking a last glance at Daisy Maria Ramirez, wishing he could watch her stick flowers into foam all day, he pushed the cart toward the fruits and vegetables.
"Did you see that girl putting flowers together?" Elaine nodded, tearing a plastic bag off the dispenser.
"Mmm-hmm."
"Did you know she was in a wheelchair?"
"Was she? No, I didn't realize." She stuffed a few apples in the bag, twisted it, lowered it into the cart, then grabbed another. "Anything special you want?"
He scanned the stands until he found what he was looking for. "Yeah. Plums."
Lauren listened as the woman at the bank read back the amount she was transferring into the payable account for the subcontractors. From there, Phil's staff would distribute the individual checks.
"That's correct," she replied. But she got off the phone shaking her head. The numbers still seemed high, even if Phil had okay-ed them.
Phil had moved quickly
And it wasn't just young women, either. Kids, old men, checkout clerks, the guys who worked at the oil change place. That's why he liked the routines in his life. He and Elaine shopped at certain places, saw certain people-people who got to know him and treated him almost normal.
Today it happened with an old woman in the parking lot at Albertson's. As he and Elaine headed toward the grocery store, he studied the one white cloud in the sky and thought it looked something like a teapot Aunt Erma used to have-until a heavy sigh drew his eyes back down to earth. The gray-haired woman stood at the trunk of her car looking annoyed; she'd just loaded her groceries, but the cart return was nowhere near. He wasn't even thinking about being different as he stepped over to her and said, "I can take it."
Her reaction was a wide-eyed head tilt, the look people gave sleeping puppies through the window at the pet store in the mall. "Why thank you, young man." He just nodded, thinking it a simple favor to earn such gratitude. He didn't put the cart in line with the rest, though, just kept it with him and pushed it through the automatic doors into the store.
"Hello there, Elaine, Davy."
They both looked up to see Mr. Pfister, the store manager. "Hi," Elaine said, and Davy smiled.
"Hot enough for ya, Dave?" "Yeah," he said.
"Wait here," Elaine told him, so he stopped the cart in front of the floral department. As Elaine perused the sales fly-er, it gave him a chance to look at the flowers and greenery. It was his favorite place in the store because it was like an indoor garden. Leafy plants hung from low wooden beams built especially for them, and big circular stands of flowering pots left just enough room to move the cart through.
"Excuse me."
He looked down to see a dark-haired girl in a wheelchair trying to roll in front of his cart.
"Oh. Sorry." He quickly backed it up to let her get by.
She wheeled herself behind a table he hadn't noticed right in the middle of the garden, its top all scattered with snapdragons and carnations. She wore a name tag. DAISY MARIA RAM IREZ.
She drew a green block of foam from somewhere behind the table and began sticking the loose flowers into it. He watched her every move, how delicately she handled the flowers and how she knew just what to do with them, putting them together to make something new where nothing had been before. A barrette held her long, dark hair back: from her face, and her brown eyes squinted and narrowed as she concentrated. It was easy to watch her work since she didn't seem to notice he was still there. He thought about saying something.
Pretty flowers.
You have small hands. Hot enough for ya?
But nothing seemed right, and it was making his stomach hurt to think about it, so he gave up and just watched her. Her lips were the same color as a plum.
"Ready?"
He jerked to attention and met his sister's eyes. "Uh, yeah."
After taking a last glance at Daisy Maria Ramirez, wishing he could watch her stick flowers into foam all day, he pushed the cart toward the fruits and vegetables.
"Did you see that girl putting flowers together?" Elaine nodded, tearing a plastic bag off the dispenser.
"Mmm-hmm."
"Did you know she was in a wheelchair?"
"Was she? No, I didn't realize." She stuffed a few apples in the bag, twisted it, lowered it into the cart, then grabbed another. "Anything special you want?"
He scanned the stands until he found what he was looking for. "Yeah. Plums."
Lauren listened as the woman at the bank read back the amount she was transferring into the payable account for the subcontractors. From there, Phil's staff would distribute the individual checks.
"That's correct," she replied. But she got off the phone shaking her head. The numbers still seemed high, even if Phil had okay-ed them.
Phil had moved quickly
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