A Paper For My Richard

WEDNESDAY:

"Why can't I use it again dear?"

Martha masked her mild annoyance behind a smile, as she repeated herself for the third time, 

"This coupon expired yesterday, see" she replied, pointing to the unmissable date in large, red, font, "14th July"

"And what date is it today my love?"

"16th July"

"Oh well, never mind dear, next time.”

“Next time Mrs. Cranston” Martha repeated empathetically, widening her smile by way of an apology as she scanned the full priced washing detergent and gently slid it across the smooth, chrome surface.

"Oh, and a paper for my Richard dear".

Martha lifted her magazine to allow Mrs. Cranston to slide out a newspaper from the pile and drop it lazily into her bag.

"Cash or card?" Martha asked softly, already knowing the answer as Mrs. Cranston buried her frail hand deep into the change compartment of her purse.

Martha glanced up at the clock as, coin by coin, the total was counted into her hand.

“Thanks for shopping at Steve's Mini-Mart, you have a great day.”

Steve's Mini-Mart was located in the Midwest, just off the interstate, slightly closer to Iowa than South Dakota.  

Its location ensured a small amount of local custom but mostly, a steady stream of nomads, travelers ranging from the wonderfully eccentric, to the painfully dull.

She didn’t hate the job. Sure - it could be boring, but it paid above minimum wage and there were enough colorful characters drifting in and out of her days to retain her interest.

Little more than a minute had passed since Mrs. Cranston’s departure before the ‘DING’ of the bell reverberated once again to welcome two new faces.

“Ok, who have we here” Martha muttered under her breath, raising her eyes rather than her head to follow her new visitors across the store.  

“Father and Son, a day trip to see Grandpa.  Son loves Grandpa but not as much as the McDonalds dad stops at, off the northbound I-29 exit on the way home".

Faint laughter trailed them as they moved across the worn, orange and burgundy carpet and towards the low hum emanating from the fridges lining the back wall.

Martha both loved and hated that carpet. It was old and it was ugly, there were no other words to describe it.  

She had once suggested getting rid of it to Steve, on one of his infrequent visits to the store, back when enthusiasm still flowed through her veins and she was determined to make the place look more aesthetically pleasing.  

He had of course moaned about the cost and told her he would replace it and never did, but she had to admit, she was, for once, a little relieved at his inaction. 

There was no denying the store was tired and in desperate need of updating, but the very fact it was held prisoner to the past was the essence of its charm. 

It offered occasional moments of nostalgia for Martha, a glimpse back into adolescence.  

They still sold DVDs, classics such as True Romance and Pulp Fiction decorated the cheap cardboard racking as Steve waited for a resurgence, hell, if he could get his hands on some cheap VHS tapes, they would probably stock them.

The Mini-Mart allowed her to almost touch her childhood memories, visits to EaZy Video with her father on a Saturday to rent out a movie and buy as much candy as he would allow. 

As ugly as that carpet was, as much as it needed incinerating and replacing with something modern, history and memory were woven into its fabric, so despite its flaws, Martha never mentioned it again.

“Welcome to Steve's Mini-Mart, did you find everything you were looking for today?”

“Yes, thanks” the father replied, smiling politely whilst wiping the increasing sweat off his forehead.

“Have you been anywhere exciting today?”

“We went to see my Grandma!” the young boy proclaimed, before smiling purposefully to show his latest missing tooth.

Martha grinned as she scanned the two sodas and family bag of Skittles which the boy immediately snatched from the bagging area.

“Very nice! Well, thanks for shopping at Steve's Mini-Mart and you two have a great day".

For the next forty minutes the store lay idle, quiet, aside from the low purr of the fridges, the distant grumble of traffic and the occasional turning of pages in Martha’s magazine.

When the store bell chimed to break the silence, Martha waited to finish her paragraph before lifting her head to greet her new patrons, but they had already moved past her, more concerned with their supplies than exchanging pleasantries.

They made their way down the far aisle, forcing Martha to squint to provide her expert analysis;

“Ex prom queen, modelled for the best part of her 20's and early 30's before being struck by Mother Natures cruel hand, forcing her to jump into Real Estate where she made her fortune and found her trophy husband."

He was more difficult. She was unable to make out his feature's clearly, he held his head low, his unruly beard covered the lower half of his face and his red and white trucker cap cast a shadow over the top half, leaving the color of his eyes in question.

"Hmmmm, ex Linebacker, injury snatched away his dreams of a sporting career and he now drives for daddy’s freight company which he stands to inherit.”

She pondered for a moment before nodding her head in silent satisfaction with her evaluation.

Martha's eyes followed them across the store, the woman's arm was wrapped tightly around the man's waist as they walked the motor accessories aisle. 

She hated that section; the potent cocktail of Mountain Alpine and Pink Bubble-gum air fresheners made her gag.

The woman was attractive for her age, her long blonde hair cascaded down her back, almost touching the belt line of her stonewashed jeans.

Her white-collared shirt rested lightly on her shoulders, floating above her skin as the air circulated through it with her movements.

She moved tentatively through the store, stopping at the rotating sunglasses stand, slowly turning it twice but leaving the sunglasses untouched, using only the mirror the stand offered, to view her reflection.

Martha couldn’t put her finger on it, but an uneasiness permeated the air. She glanced over to the man, who remained rooted to the spot, no longer looking at merchandise, instead he simply stood there, seemingly without purpose.

He had an unsettling way about him. Physically, he was a mountain of a man, not muscular, but naturally broad, his grey t-shirt tightly stretched over his chest under his thin navy jacket. He was overweight but not unfit, he looked strong, powerful, perhaps a manual worker in hindsight.

As she moved closer to the checkout, cracks in the reality Martha had constructed for this woman became apparent.

Her choice of attire had been made bearing something other than fashion in mind.  

Her white top billowed as she moved, lifting from her thin frame and causing the silky white sleeves to slide gently up her arms and reveal the very secrets they intended to keep.

Deep cuts were visible on both of her wrists. Time had healed these wounds, but her past attempts were now decorated with fresh bruises and pressure marks. 

Her heavy makeup had done an exceptional job at portraying her glamour from a distance but upon closer inspection, the façade crumbled.

It too had been applied to mask a truth, something other than her fading youth. 

The bruising under her right eye had been carefully dabbed with concealer, as had the visible part of a larger bruise, the majority of which Martha suspected lay strategically hidden behind her collar.

As Martha continued to study her, she lifted her eyes from the woman’s wrists, back up to her face, only to find her staring back.

"Good afternoon, ma'am, is there anything I can help you with today?" Martha asked calmly, her heart pounding through her chest.

She cursed herself for having been caught staring, her last intention was to cause embarrassment.

The woman quickly broke eye contact and lowered her head, directing her words to the floor as she responded, "do you have any jerry cans?".

"Sure, right over there, at the end of the aisle". Martha indicated towards the far section where the man stood motionless, his head now slightly raised, as he listened intently to their conversation. 

As the woman turned back towards the aisle, Martha interjected, forcing her to turn around; "We have a 2 for 1 offer on all Top Dogg Hot Dogs" Martha stated, scribbling furiously on her note pad as she spoke. "That includes any dog and any two sides". Martha swept her right hand out in front of her to highlight the offer, the details of which were shown on the chalk board hanging below the register. She released her thumb from her palm, discretely dropping a piece of paper on the counter that stood between them.

The woman slowly tilted her head to read Marthas hasty scrawls - 'blink twice if you need the police'.

The woman lifted her eyes to meet Martha's gaze, she held it, unwavering in her contact.

Martha silently willed her to blink, to give her a sign, to allow her to help her from whatever predicament she was drowning in.

After a few uncomfortable seconds, the woman's eyes began to glaze over. Moisture spread across her retinas and began collecting in the corners of her eyes, causing her to promptly turn around and make her way back to the motor accessories aisle.

Martha snatched back the note and in a single motion, crushed it in her hand and dropped the crumpled paper by her feet before re-focusing on her magazine. She would maintain this illusion of ignorance and protect this woman, drawing attention to the situation might only land her in more danger.

Martha's eyes rolled over the glossy illustrations of the centrefold for a few seconds before curiosity crept in, forcing her to raise her head from the publication.  

The couple appeared to be arguing, the woman, now at his side, turned back towards Martha but this time Martha was prepared, snapping her head down whilst simultaneously turning the page of her magazine.

Something was deeply wrong. Martha prided herself on the accuracy of her judgement but this time she was way off. She felt out of her depth, suffocating in someone else's problem.

She wanting to run, far from the pressure of this situation, take in some fresh air, untainted by the many scents contaminating the stores oxygen.

Her mind raced, unsure on the best course of action to take. Should she call the police?

"Oh yeah, good one Martha, and let them know what? That a couple came to the store, bought some stuff and then left? I'm sure you will be awarded the Citizens Congressional Medal of Honor for your heroism".

"The license plate!" As they continued to argue on the far aisle, Martha casually glanced outside, fixing her eyes on a muddy white transit van, the only vehicle other than her own in the parking lot.

'Dammit', it was positioned side on, carelessly parked across three spaces, making it impossible to see the plate from inside the store.

As she scanned the van for some sort of notable information, something moved.

'What the hell was that?'.

As it moved again, Martha's heart sank. 

'Oh my god'. She placed her hand over her mouth to mask her emotion. 

It was a baby's arm, "they left a fucking baby in the van in the middle of July".

Martha turned to the couple who were now both staring at her. 

They shared a few heated, inaudible words before the man, keeping his head low, grabbed the two jerry cans from the woman and stormed outside.

The woman promptly made her way to the register, grabbing a six-pack of Coors Light and some sanitary towels before placing them hastily on the conveyor.

"And two jerry cans and 20 liters of gasoline" the woman stated, avoiding eye contact with Martha.

"You have a baby? You can't leave a baby in a car. You need help, let me call the police".

"No! Please don't!"

Martha glanced outside, the man had finished filling up the jerry cans and was now sat in the middle seat, towering above the baby and staring directly at Martha, sending chills down her spine.

Martha quickly scanned the items and picked up the notes that the woman had thrown onto the counter.

"Keep the change" she shouted, as she ran towards the door.

"Let me help you! What's your name?"

The woman jumped into the drivers side of the van and sped off, the man's gaze remained fixed on Martha, until they left the parking lot and rejoined the interstate, disappearing back into mid-America.

Martha ran to the back office, if there was one thing Steve feared more than spending money, it was losing money, especially needlessly to insurance companies.

It was cheap, but the store did have a working surveillance camera in the parking lot. 

After rewinding the footage and noting the license plate, Martha returned to the register and sat with the information in her hands, allowing her heart rate to resume its usual rhythm as she contemplated her next move; to follow her gut or to respect the woman's wishes.

THURSDAY:

Martha half-read the final few pages of her magazine as she watched Mrs. Cranston potter around the store.

As always, she spent a considerable amount of time looking at alternative products before placing her usual choices into her basket.

"Any coupons today Mrs. Cranston?"

"Thank you my love", she replied, reaching into her bag and handing them to Martha.

"All in date, I'll run them through now"

As Martha scanned the last item, Mrs. Cranston theatrically lifted her right hand to her head to signal her lapse of memory,

"oh, and a paper for my Richard dear."

Martha tilted her magazine to allow Mrs. Cranston to slide a paper out from the pile, and drop it on the counter.

Martha's jaw dropped, immediately recognizing the woman in the picture on the front page.

"Oh my god, I met this woman, she was here yesterday".

"You're joking dear?! I'll be dammed!

So sad, I just can't understand how these things can happen in this day and age".

"What happened?" Martha asked with urgency, as she scanned the paper for answers.

"You haven't been following the story dear? Her face has been plastered on the front page of the papers for days".

"Days? I don't understand."

Martha stood in silence as Mrs. Cranston proceed to relay recent events as well as last night's Channel 6 News report.

She told the story of a severely autistic fourteen-year-old boy, abducted from a care home in eastern Missouri by an unidentified, older woman in 2001.

Of how he was held captive for twenty three years whilst his brother searched tirelessly to find him.

She explained how the missing persons case had been re-opened in recent weeks, after a chance sighting by a true-crime enthusiast, who remembered the story from an 'Unsolved' documentary, and how the public were urged to be on alert and to contact police immediately upon encountering this woman.

"She ended up having a son with the man, they think he was around a year old when he..."

"Was, what do you mean was?!" Martha interrupted.

"Well police received some sort of domestic abuse call, saying that a woman and her baby were in grave danger. They tracked down a van to a remote house in South Dakota and arrested the man on suspicion of domestic abuse, not knowing who he was.

Anyway, as the police had him in handcuffs and were trying to work out his identity, smoke started billowing from the second-floor window.

She had set the nursery on fire with the baby inside.

That poor man managed to break free from the police and ran back inside the house, hands bound behind his back.

"I don't understand" replied Martha, stumbling backwards, grabbing the register to steady herself as she sat down. "She was beaten?".

"Well yes dear, police noted her appearance when she answered the door but they now think that poor man may have fought her trying to escape with the baby.

In the confusion as police tried to identify him, and then the chaos when the fire broke out, she somehow managed to slip away before they pieced together who either of them were."

"This makes no sense" Martha stuttered in disbelief. "Why didn't he just run away?"

"Who knows dear, a Detective on the telly last night suspects there could be multiple reasons; Stockholm Syndrome, maybe he loved her and didn't want to run or maybe he simply stayed to protect the baby.

Either way, she obviously thought it was safe for them to be in public, I guess so many years had passed, she didn't expect either of them would be recognized.

 "Oh my god". Martha placed both hands over her mouth in shock.

"They say he made it to the child's bedroom before he succumbed to the flames.

Imagine, to be found after all this time for such a tragedy to occur".

"Anyway, don't dwell on it dear" said Mrs. Cranston comfortingly, seeing Martha was visibly shaken, "these terrible things happen, and there's nothing you or I could have done."

As Mrs. Cranston headed towards the door, she stopped, turning back slightly to address Martha,

"You really should read the paper more dear", she suggested, pointing to the large pile of papers hidden beneath Martha's magazine, "maybe you would have recognized her?"

"Anyway, food for thought dear, you have a great day" said Mrs. Cranston, as she pushed open the door to trigger the bell, cutting through the silence of the empty store, until the vibrations stopped, leaving Martha alone with her thoughts and final page of her magazine.