Charlotte Cuts It Out Read Free Page B

himself—he started as a bagger back when Dad was in grade school and Great-Gramps ran the store. Then he went to Vietnam. While he was there, Great-Gramps passed away and Pops took over. He gave Ralph his old job as soon as he came back, and he’s been here ever since.
    â€œTammy and Barb are out there,” Dad says, not looking at me.
    â€œAnd Tyler,” adds Pops.
    Of course they know how ridiculous they’re being. Two cashiers, no matter how capable, and a timid bagger cannot run this store alone. And Mike, the night-and-weekend manager, doesn’t get here until four.
    Before any of us can get back onto the floor, Oliver slams in. “She went home,” he announces.
    â€œIs she coming back?” asks Pops. Is he concerned, or just looking for advanced warning?
    â€œDoubt it.” Oliver slumps into a chair like a worn-out teddy bear. “At least not today. She’s really tired.” He pauses. “It takes a lot of energy to grow a person.”
    A laugh escapes before I have a chance to stop it, not that I would have anyway. “That’s Nina talking, not you, right?”
    Now he’s the one to glare. “That doesn’t make it any less true.”
    â€œSo who has today in the pool?” asks Ralph.
    Around the store, we bet on pretty much everything: from the date the snow pile finally melts in the parking lot to how many days between Ralph’s quarterly—or sometimes biannual—haircuts to how many times the UPS man sighs while dropping off packages, and anything else we can think of. It costs a buck to get into each pool. Winning isn’t about the money, though, which is rarely over twenty dollars. It’s about the bragging rights: Ralph correctly guessed my birth date more than sixteen years ago, and I’m still hearing about it.
    Since I’m closest, I dig through the drawer under the microwave and pull out the file marked
Nina.
Then I flip through a sheaf of papers—
Date Baby Born, Hours of Labor, Baby Size.
“Ah, here it is!”
Days Missed for Being Pregnant
is a grid showing the dates from when Nina announced her pregnancy to two weeks past her due date, January 2nd. I look at today’s square: it says
RWL.
“Uh, that would be you, Ralph.”
    â€œThought so!” He pumps his fist in the air. “How much do I get?”
    â€œI can’t believe you people!” Oliver stands, and the chair topples backward. “Betting on how many days my wife will miss work . . .”
    Pops rights the chair, and I count the squares between the last day Nina left work to today. “Twelve bucks.” I count out a five and seven ones from the envelope and paper-clip it back to the form.
    Ralph fans his winnings and cheers. Then he sees Oliver standing there. “Sorry, man.”
    â€œNo,” says Oliver, still pissed. “I can’t believe you bet on my wife and didn’t let me in on the action!” He grabs the paper from me. “How many squares are left?”
    â€œNot many,” says Pops. “Ralph keeps using his winnings to buy more.”
    Ralph flashes a sheepish grin. “Sorry. Can’t pass up a sure thing.”
    Oliver chooses two dates, slips his money in the envelope, and puts it back with the rest.
    â€œOkay, so where’s Katie?” I return the folder to the drawer. “Can’t she take over for Nina?”
    â€œShe didn’t show up today,” Oliver says.
    â€œOh,” says Dad, as if he suddenly remembered. “She called in a little while ago. Her cat has diarrhea again.”
    Ralph makes a face like he just had to clean it up.
    â€œOh my lanta!” I yell. “Does
anyone
work around here anymore?”
    Oliver leans in and says to Ralph, even though we can all hear, “Katie could use some of that Mylanta for her cat.” All four of them bust a gut. Even as I shake my head and pretend it’s not, I have to admit