Washington: A Good Deed
Chapter 8
Robin Washington held the small cup of pills while her husband sipped from a tall glass of water.
“How many more?” Sal’s voice boomed quietly.
“Just these two.”
Robin handed her husband the last two pills and watched him gulp them down. She took the glass to the sink, rinsed it, dried it and put it back up in the cabinet. She placed the empty cup on the mat next to the sink. She filled it with the next day’s pills and pressed the cap on tightly.
Suddenly, Robin was jolted by a thud from behind her. She turned and saw Sal lying on the floor in an awkward position. Blood seeped from underneath his head. She shrieked and ran to the telephone. But it disintegrated in her hands. She shrieked again. Then woke up.
Robin groggily gazed around the dark room. She awoke to a cold sweat and flailed around searching for her blanket. She figured she must have tossed them to the floor and weighed waking herself up at 4 A.M. against going back to sleep still cold.
The alarm clock was deafening at the crack of dawn. Robin struggled to pull herself out of bed. It had been seven years since Sal died, but still every morning she looked for that lump on the other side of the bed. It made her sad every time.
Robin looked in the mirror and straightened the name tag she wore over her blue apron. She left a bowl of water for her cat. Flicked the lights off. Locked up her apartment. And headed to work.
As Robin waited at a red light, she recalled the dream she’d had the night before. They were always so vivid. And always the same. It was the most horrifying scene of her life and it kept playing over and over. She felt responsible for what happened to Sal, but the rest of the world did not agree.
Robin parked and made her way through the back of the grocery store so she could clock in. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a young girl slipping something beneath her sweater.
She punched her time card and stood at her register. Robin saw the girl nonchalantly toss a loaf of bread underneath the cart of a woman passing by. She ignored it and rang up her next customer.
The next man in the line caught Robin off guard. He bore a striking resemblance to her late husband. She almost called him Sal when asking for his preferred customer card.
“Having a good morning Robin?” the man asked as he handed her his card.
“How do you know my name?”
“Your name tag.”
Robin felt silly for a moment and waited for the man’s receipt to print.
“Take the girl,” the man uttered eerily. She stared at him, confused. “Take her, Robin. She needs you.”
“Who?”
“Move the line along, now.”
The man left the store and walked to the parking lot as Robin caught a glimpse of the young girl snatching the bread from underneath the woman’s cart in the parking lot. Robin shouted for a manager and dialed 911 on her cell phone.
Robin Washington held the small cup of pills while her husband sipped from a tall glass of water.
“How many more?” Sal’s voice boomed quietly.
“Just these two.”
Robin handed her husband the last two pills and watched him gulp them down. She took the glass to the sink, rinsed it, dried it and put it back up in the cabinet. She placed the empty cup on the mat next to the sink. She filled it with the next day’s pills and pressed the cap on tightly.
Suddenly, Robin was jolted by a thud from behind her. She turned and saw Sal lying on the floor in an awkward position. Blood seeped from underneath his head. She shrieked and ran to the telephone. But it disintegrated in her hands. She shrieked again. Then woke up.
Robin groggily gazed around the dark room. She awoke to a cold sweat and flailed around searching for her blanket. She figured she must have tossed them to the floor and weighed waking herself up at 4 A.M. against going back to sleep still cold.
The alarm clock was deafening at the crack of dawn. Robin struggled to pull herself out of bed. It had been seven years since Sal died, but still every morning she looked for that lump on the other side of the bed. It made her sad every time.
Robin looked in the mirror and straightened the name tag she wore over her blue apron. She left a bowl of water for her cat. Flicked the lights off. Locked up her apartment. And headed to work.
As Robin waited at a red light, she recalled the dream she’d had the night before. They were always so vivid. And always the same. It was the most horrifying scene of her life and it kept playing over and over. She felt responsible for what happened to Sal, but the rest of the world did not agree.
Robin parked and made her way through the back of the grocery store so she could clock in. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a young girl slipping something beneath her sweater.
She punched her time card and stood at her register. Robin saw the girl nonchalantly toss a loaf of bread underneath the cart of a woman passing by. She ignored it and rang up her next customer.
The next man in the line caught Robin off guard. He bore a striking resemblance to her late husband. She almost called him Sal when asking for his preferred customer card.
“Having a good morning Robin?” the man asked as he handed her his card.
“How do you know my name?”
“Your name tag.”
Robin felt silly for a moment and waited for the man’s receipt to print.
“Take the girl,” the man uttered eerily. She stared at him, confused. “Take her, Robin. She needs you.”
“Who?”
“Move the line along, now.”
The man left the store and walked to the parking lot as Robin caught a glimpse of the young girl snatching the bread from underneath the woman’s cart in the parking lot. Robin shouted for a manager and dialed 911 on her cell phone.
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