After a long week and an even longer day at work, I picked up Katie from day care. I needed to go grocery shopping and this was the first chance I had to do it.
“Bella, do we have to go shopping now?” Katie asked, her feet dangling from her booster seat.
“It was a very busy week, Kit Kat,” I replied, holding her hand while we walked into the grocery store. “We’ve been living on leftovers, take out and frozen dinners. I need real food.”
“I don’t mind eating McDonald’s,” she said.
“You might not, but I do. I don’t have five-year-old metabolism,” I grimaced, pulling out my list. Normally, I’d do grocery pick up but I didn’t have any spare time today at the office to submit my order.
“What’s mebatlitosm?” Katie asked.
“Metabolism is the chemical reaction of changing food into energy, Kit Kat. The younger you are, the better your metabolism works,” I snorted. “Now, we’ve got to get food.”
Katie grumbled her discontent, but she didn’t have a choice. Inside the store, I put Katie into the cart and we filled it to the brim. As we were checking out, my cell phone vibrated. I took a look at it.
“Is it Mr. Edward?” Katie asked. “Can we play with Sammy?”
“No. It’s Miss Alice,” I answered, handing the cashier my credit card.
“Are you going to answer her?”
“After we load up the groceries in the car, Kit Kat,” I replied, signing for payment. “Thank you.”
“Your daughter is very cute,” the cashier smiled.
“I’m adorable,” Katie smirked, flipping her hair. “But, she’s my sister, not my mom. Mommy died.”
I blushed, gaping at my sister. The way she said that, so casually, shocked me. The cashier didn’t know what to do with response. She stared blankly at me. I muttered another thank you and scurried out of the grocery store after signing the credit slip. Still shell shocked, I lifted Katie out of the cart, buckling her into the car. I loaded up the groceries and pushed the cart into the corral.
“Bella, did I say something wrong?” Katie asked.
“No, Kit Kat,” I replied, sliding into the driver’s seat. “It’s just that …” I blew out a breath. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I just think that the cashier was a little surprised with your statement.”
“But, it’s true. You’re not my mom. Mommy’s in heaven with the angels with Daddy,” Katie replied, innocently.
It hit me like a ton of bricks. I missed my family so much. “You’re right, Katie,” I said, my voice cracking with emotion. “Let’s go home.” The drive home was a bit of a blur. I was aware of the other cars, stop lights and my sister singing in the backseat to whatever song was playing on the radio, but my grief was overwhelming. Unloading the groceries, I set up Katie in front of the television. I went up to my bedroom to change into pajamas. Once I was in a pair of soft pants and an oversized sweatshirt, I bit back sobs, crying into my pillow.
