Chapter Twelve

The plastic of the many grocery bags I was carrying cut into my wrists and fingers as I walked my way back to the bus stop from the exit of the QFC I always did our food shopping at. I kept my gaze ahead as I reached the bench, knowing better that to make eye contact with the scraggly, dirt-ridden man who had lounged out on it.

I adjusted the weight of the bags I held when the bus pulled up in front of us a minute later. "Hello." I greeted the driver, cordially, after the doors were opened for me. Stepping up the stairs into the vehicle, I dug into my right pocket for the fare I'd set aside earlier.

My hands were full, so it took a minute, but I put everything in it's designated slot, smiling briefly as the driver nodded the okay for to me to move further inside. Luckily there was an empty seat on the bus that I was able to take before it began to move. I was careful not to let my bags bother the people sitting next to me on either side as I slid into it.

The twelve minute ride was a quiet one, aside from the soft dings that alerted the passengers to an upcoming stop and the hum of late-afternoon traffic around us. I stood when we reached my designated stop, belatedly wishing my father hadn't had work today so I could have borrowed his car for the trip as the bags I held continued to take their toll on my hands.

"Thank you." I threw over my shoulder, as I took the two foot leap from the last step of the bus and the sidewalk.

I knew when I got home that I'd beat my father there. His old, beat-up Corolla wasn't parked in the lot down the street that our building dared to call 'private parking'. With that knowledge, I let myself leave my shoes, coat, and purse haphazardly by the door so I could put away the groceries I'd brought home that much sooner.