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CHARLOTTE

“You feeling better?” I ask Denny as we walk through the aisles of the grocery store. Poor thing’s had a queasy tummy since Patricia dropped them off yesterday. Okay, maybe it was after she ate nine chocolate chip muffins while ignoring my protests, but there’s no way I’ll admit that to Noah.

“I’m okay,” she says paired with a little grumble.

“Bread is the last thing, and then we can go,” I tell her and Nash.

“Oh, look, Lottie!” she says, grabbing a pink little baby teether off the end cap.

“No, this one’s cooler,” Nash says, grabbing one that looks like a key ring.

I smile down at them, appreciating their enthusiasm. “Baby won’t need those for a while. Maybe next time.”

“Fine,” they huff, putting the items back.

My phone rings, and I pull it out to see Noah’s name flash across the display.

“Hey,” I say after accepting the call.

“Hey, soffione ,” he coos in his sweet tone. “You still at the store?”

“Yeah, be home soon.”

“Can you pick up some little pasta stars? I wanna make Denny soup for dinner.”

“You got it,” I tell him.

“And actually, I need a few other things. Can I send you a list?”

“Sure.”

After picking up the new items, we head to the register.

“That’ll be $78.32,” the cashier says after the groceries have been bagged and placed in the cart. I stick my card into the machine, and it makes a god-awful buzzing sound.

“Please remove your card, ma’am,” the cashier says as a receipt spits out on her end. “It’s been declined.”

I stop breathing, glancing anxiously at the line of people waiting behind me.

“Can you try again?” I ask.

Another attempt, and the same result.

“Sorry,” I tell the cashier, and the bystanders, as I pull up my banking app.

Balance: $22.06.

Shit. Tears well in my eyes as I stare at the cart full of groceries I can’t afford.

Looks like the money from my grants and student loans has already run out. Shit.

“I… I have to put some items back,” I say hesitantly, my resolve crumbling.

“Lottie, can we go?” Nash asks, tugging my shirt.

“One second, buddy.”

The cashier huffs a breath. “I’ll cancel the transaction. Just give me what you want.”

Scanning quickly through the bags, I add up items in my head.

Noah asked for the pasta. $2.31.

I promised Denny the ice cream. $4.99.

We can make peanut butter sandwiches with the bread. $3.49.

Eggs. $6.36.

I’ll tell Noah the rest of the stuff he asked for was out of stock. I hand the items to the cashier, and she scans them.

The tutoring job at CBU is sounding more and more appealing.

Holding my breath, I insert my card, and the little green check mark, paired with a beautiful ding, has me reclaiming oxygen.

I grab the lone bag of groceries and the kids’ hands, and we rush out like we robbed the place.

Although, I’m pretty sure I’m the one who’s been robbed. Where the hell did all my money go?

Tuition.

Textbooks.

Groceries.

Gas.

Insurance.

“Why couldn’t we take the other stuff?” Nash asks, and a lump forms in my throat.

“My card was broken,” I tell him.

“Can you fix it?”

“I hope so.”

How the hell do you plan on doing that?

When we get to the Bronco, I secure the kids and round the back to put the single pitiful bag of groceries in the trunk. The trunk of the car my boyfriend bought me. Because I’m a broke ass bitch with no money and no direction and no damn plan. Guess my mother was right about me. If I weren’t so dead set on following my passion instead of the “honorable” path she chose for me, maybe I wouldn’t be four dollars away from penniless.

“Excuse me,” I hear, glancing up to the sight of an older woman pushing a full cart my way. “You forgot these.” She gestures to the groceries.

“Sorry, you have me mistaken.”

“No.” Her eyes bore into mine. “I don’t.”

Glancing at the cart and through the thin bags, I notice it’s the items I left at the register. “I… didn’t pay for those.”

She hands me a receipt with a hesitant smile. “They’re paid for.”

My lips part open as my eyes flick from the receipt back to her. “I can’t accept this.”

“Well, it’s here for the taking.” She shrugs before removing one plastic bag that I assume is hers. She smiles and walks away, leaving me dumbstruck with the cart full of groceries from a stranger. Tears stream down my cheeks as I place each bag in the trunk, sending up a grateful prayer to whoever our guardian angel is today. I wipe my face dry before getting in the car. Settling in the driver’s seat, I take a deep breath.

“Alright,” I croak out and clear my throat. “Let’s go.”

Attempts to suppress my tears are useless, and I spend the entire ride home praying the two little angels in the back don’t notice just how hard they fall.