Work Text:
You prefer the baskets over the carts.
It’s easier to move around, easier to handle, to keep close. You can be quick. In and out.
You used to stick close to her, her , not the cart. That didn’t matter then.
She would leave it deserted in the middle of an aisle. She never thought of all the other people, all the other carts she was probably blocking.
Go take a closer look at something on some shelf, you preferred it when they weren’t high up. You could pretend to be as ensnared by whatever item it was she was looking at like that. Pretend that you’d seen these colorful labels, exaggerated bold brand names a thousand times, just like her, just like every other person in the store. It was fun, the play pretend of it all.
You’d trail after like some obedient dog at their master's heel—she didn’t even need a leash. She trusted you that much not to stray, too well behaved, too obedient, it didn’t matter that you would leave her for days, weeks, months at a time. You always came back. She knew you knew the way home.
You look down as a child runs by, they drop a handful of things as they do, mostly half chewed up candy, some wrappers, looking around you don’t spy any adults, when you turn back they’re out of sight. You stare at the end of the aisle for a minute, contemplating, before turning back and walking on, it’s not your issue to worry about.
But the more you went on her weekly grocery trips, the more confident you became.
Soon enough, you were the one running off ahead, how many visits to the grocery store did she have under her luxury belt in comparison to you?
You deserved this really. It was owed to you.
You were practically bursting at the heels to run off without her and really take in this place.
She never once complained about the way you would extend her receipt after every new visit.
You’d throw in all sorts of things.
Yellow glossy star fruit, animal crackers—not the plain boring ones, the ones that were slathered with pink frosting, with rainbow sprinkles—those weirdly colored ketchup bottles that were limited edition but somehow never sold out, thinking back on it, you don’t believe you ever finished one—they ended up collecting dust in your old apartment—then, gradually, half would somehow end up in Julia’s cupboards.
You remember they had a chemical taste to them.
One that just didn’t hit the spot.
You liked the produce aisle, especially early in the mornings, when it was just you two and the mist that would rain down on the vegetables. The pale rainbow that would appear was beautiful to you.
She had tried to teach you which vegetables were better than others one day, pointing out bruises, scratches, the size too, letting you feel them—but you had spent the whole time playing in the water instead. You would stick your hand in, delight in the soft spray, ignoring Julia. She had said she’d never done that before.
You had thought that was stupid.
She didn’t go down the candy aisle often, too much sugar, too tempting, too unhealthy she told you—although it did sound like she was reminding herself more often than you, like she was just reciting something that had once been told to her.
The only handful of times you two deliberately went down that colorful aisle was when you were angry, or she was upset.
The racks at the cashiers register were fair game though. You’d grab handfuls of everything but the sour. Learned the hard way too much of that made your tongue bleed.
You never skip the candy aisle.
Or you usually don’t.
But entering the aisle you realize it’s already been hit. Just about everything you can see, milky ways, skittles, snickers, and so many more candies have been strewn on the floor. Globs of the stuff lay scattered, shiny with saliva, they streak the floor, and you no longer seem to hold an appetite for anything at the sight. You turn away, deciding you don’t need any of that today.
Maybe it’s time to wrap it up, go home.
You can hear a kid screaming a few aisles down, a parent pleading.
You’d gotten kicked out once too.
It had been late and both of you had been drinking. The store was practically empty. She’s led you down an aisle one hand on your shoulder the other behind her as she yanked a cart that kept getting far too close to her heels, she yelped everytime it managed to run em over, and you’d let out a laugh every time too.
You think she started doing it on purpose at some point, the way she seemed to look at you through the corner of her eye right before the cart hit.
You’d been piling all sorts of junk food in that thing, and a few extra bottles of whatever alcohol she could get her hands on first. When you reached the end of the aisle you didn’t have time to process what was happening before she had picked you up. Placed you right in the center of it all, didn’t even give you time to adjust, feet still sticking out. She had run her fingers through your hair, soft and gentle, her eyes fixed on the few cowlicks that refused to stay down, before they locked onto your own—and then, just as quickly, flashing to something right behind you.
You remember turning, but not seeing what she was looking at, if anything, she was so out of it, you were so out of it.
You hadn’t noticed when she’d leaned down, only realized when you heard the soft “Lista?” as she whispered into your ear, warm and wet it came out slurred, and you shoved her back. You didn’t like the way it made you feel, the way your stomach would flip at the feeling of her breath so close by, the goosebumps that climbed up your arms.
You didn’t even know what exactly to be ready for.
You hadn’t the faintest idea what was going to happen—what sort of plan was forming in her electric storm brain before she threw the cart down the aisle, she didn’t hold back either.
You swear you didn’t scream. But you don’t remember anymore.
It was too long ago. For your own pride, you hope you didn’t scream.
You do remember going through two displays though.
That—you won’t ever forget.
Something soft, hard edges that gave way—maybe boxes? Bright yellow mac and cheese or some other sort of boxed pasta…it didn’t matter really it didn’t hurt as much as the canned green bean display. Pain is always so much easier to remember.
And then, a loud crash, and then, your eyes had welled up with tears, hurt—confused—you laid in the wreck of it all trying to process what had happened.
Then you blinked.
And Julia was there picking you up, helping you onto your feet.
And…she had been laughing. Hard too, she could hardly look at you, tears streaming down her cheeks, (probably matching your at that point) making them shiny under the yellow light of the store, she was rubbing at the tender spot on your head, it hurt when she did so and you tried to push her off—away but she wouldn’t let go…and…and you were laughing too.
You remember that now.
Still not all aware of what had happened. But aware that it wasn’t something serious. You were safe, a little bruised but fine. And Julia was laughing.
And you wanted to be included. So you laughed too.
That’s when the manager showed up.
An old lady, gray gray wiry hair, with more wrinkles than you had ever seen. She walked with a wobble the whole way over, probably as fast as she could. You couldn’t catch anything in Julia’s mind but you could certainly hear hers loud and clear—even with the amount of alcohol in your system.
She wasn’t happy.
Not at all.
You can’t blame her now…looking back on it—it wasn’t you two who were going to clean the mess you’d made up.
But back then the only thing in the moment you could muster up was annoyance the fun had ended.
Julia had placed a hand in front of you and pushed you back, you almost tripped over one of the beer cans that had managed to bust free from its siblings.
You remember her stepping forward just nodding along to everything the increasingly loud old woman had been explaining to her, the old woman’s voice cracking every few words with anger—there was frustration there, so much frustration—and Julia was—she was just nodding.
But there was a smile on her face—and maybe it was that movie star smile she had on that was doing the old lady in…Because despite it all, Julia had still been absolutely hammered. Smelled and looked it too. It wasn’t until she poked Julia in the chest with a wrinkled gnarled finger that you stepped in.
Tried too.
Julia wrapped an arm around your shoulder and gripped it tight—secure—held you back.
When you tried to yank yourself out of her hold she dug her nails in, and out of the corner of her eye looked down, smiled at you—thin—and mouthed “calmante”
You hadn’t known who to be more mad at, the old woman or Julia at that point.
You curled your fist as you tried once more to step back out of her grasp, even brought your other hand up, dug your nails into Julia’s trying to pry it off—but Julia’s hand was not giving in, it hardly nudged.
“Juli—“ you had tried to argue.
She’d quickly shushed you with one look—much too sober, at least that’s how you remembered it, embarrassed at her scolding, feeling a little sick, you had given up, let her hold your shoulder as tightly as she wanted.
The interaction was brought to an end when Julia noticed a much younger store employee making their way over. Same shade of warm hazel eyes the old woman carried, but the alarm on their red face was for a much different reason.
They were embarrassed—no, ashamed, maybe a little awestruck.
You’d watched with rapt attention.
The embarrassment he was experiencing was on the old woman’s behalf. You just about puffed up at that, the cruel little smile growing onto your face so fast it hurt, until you noticed the way Julia had tensed.
Briefly, Julia had flashed her eyes to the man, a smile too, and he had sped up, an attempt to reach her faster, almost like she had personally asked him to come to her rescue.
But it seemed at the sight of him—Julia finally had something to say to the old woman—who had taken her silence as her not hearing, she’d gotten up so close to Julia’s face spitting with each word, had Julia not still been holding you down you think there’s no way this would have gone on for this long.
“We’re sorry” she had said. You were not sorry. “I’ll pay for it—all of it”
You stared up at her.
She did not look at you.
That’s not what you were expecting—not in that sorry sweet voice. You almost felt slapped.
You could see the old woman back down, and the younger man only a few steps behind now.
You didn’t stay to meet him though.
Julia had pulled out a wad of cash and the old woman was at a loss for words, shocked, it had been a lot of money.
Another apology, and Julia was dragging you out the door through the exit just as the man grabbed onto the woman.
Money seemed to fix a lot of things.
The old women even had a change of heart because you remember hearing her yell as you two exited, ‘stay safe. It’s dark, it’s dangerous for two girl at night’
You could feel the confusion radiating off the man. He knew who Charge was.
“He wanted to help us,” you had told her when you got outside. You’d wanted to see the way the old woman was put in her place for speaking to Julia like that.
Julia didn’t answer you straight away.
She had walked to just barely the edge of a lonely block, leaned up on a dimming light post, you remember the way the light seemed to shine a little brighter on her, like a spotlight, like it was waiting.
She had shrugged, and replied, almost murmuring, her cheek pressed to the cool pole, eyes closed, “I didn’t want to make a big deal of it…”, you hadn’t understood what she meant, still don’t.
“Does it hurt?” She had thrown out before you could get any clarification. The question confused you enough to sidetrack you.
You thought she meant your shoulder at first, and you shook your head, no, even though it was in fact, very sore. With the way she had gripped it—you think she forgets how strong she is—but when she extended her hand out—flicked at the tender spot on your head from your earlier fall, you realized that’s what she meant, not your shoulder. And yeah, you flinched.
Because it did hurt.
But instead of saying yes, you had shrugged, still upset, still ticked off and annoyed.
You remember her smiling, still leaned up against the pole, one hand wrapped around it for balance? Or maybe she was just that tired, you know it was late but surely not that late—but the lights of the night could have messed you up, tricked you into thinking it was earlier, “If you want i can kiss it better”
“No way” was the automatic response, did you grimace—Scared of cooties, of casual affection, a little kid unused to those things, but still craving it, you always felt a little awkward—you think you did, must have, because she laughed, long hair briefly falling into her face.
But when her hand had reached out, grabbed at your wrist, you had let her. And you let her tug you forward too. Acting begrudging, pout on your lips—but you had leaned into her soft chest much too eagerly—and she tilted your head up, and placed her lips softly on the tender spot. It still hurt but you hadn’t flinched back that time, you stood there and took it.
“We should go home” she had said after, as she smoothed your hair back, her lips never leaving your forehead, her voice so soft and low and smelling strongly of alcohol.
“See if anything else hurts” you could feel the smile, the hard graze of her teeth on your skin as she said this, “I’ll kiss it better too” and maybe as an afterthought had leaned down a little more, right to your ear—sensitive you’d tried to back away, but a sharp nailed finger trailing down your back—slow, deliberate —had caused you to arch into her instead, just a little closer—and then you had felt the brief nip of her teeth on the soft tip of your ear, as she breathed out, “solo dime donde”, you had to bite your lip to keep quiet.
But besides your bruising shoulder….Nothing else hurt.
“No—I’m fine” you had told her, maybe a little rushed. At that you’d felt the hand at your back tense—loosen enough for you to step back, away from her, her teeth, her heat, even though you don’t think you wanted to just yet.
She didn’t reach for you again—still leaned up against the light post, you remember being briefly startled when it flickered, she must have been too with the way she jumped back, the light around you two going out briefly before shining again, not as bright as before.
“Oh…Are you sure?” She had an awkward smile, like she was unsure of how to proceed.
But you were sure, nothing else hurt.