Shopping Cart Confessions

TYLER

“Catherine’s meat preference?” Callum’s voice bounces off the high ceilings of Costco. It’s a rare occasion for Catherine to send Zach and me on a grocery run.

Zach had promptly declined, so Callum filled in. I couldn’t say no, not when she does so much for us. If she needs assistance, then assistance she shall get.

I toss some bread and rolls into the cart, already brimming with a colorful array of fruits and vegetables. I steer the bulky cart toward Callum.

“Is shouting necessary?” I ask.

“You wouldn’t have heard me otherwise. This place is huge. Look at these chicken breasts. Who needs eight kg of chicken breast?”

I chuckle, glancing at the list and then laughing even harder. “Apparently, we do.”

He gives me a puzzled look before examining the detailed shopping list Catherine had handwritten for us. “Damn, do we eat that much chicken?”

“Ah, the perks we have… We also need the double pack of beef mince, a pack of twelve rump steaks, some pre-marinated chili pork belly, and two of the cooked rotisserie chickens from this section.” We find the specific meats she’s listed, using the exact names on the labels, before swiftly moving on.

“Damn, who knew four people needed that much meat? I dread to think what the meat alone costs.”

“Money isn’t a problem, Callum.”

“For you two, maybe. I haven’t earned a paycheck since before the London incident.” He lifts four cases of water, stowing three under the cart and one at the end.

Damn, I hadn’t thought about him refusing payment for taking care of Violet after that. It’s been so long that I hadn’t considered how that would affect his finances. And here I am, earning more than enough to feed ten families a month even after donating half my wages.

“Callum, I earn enough to cover everything in the house. Don’t worry about money…”

He shrugs, examining the laundry detergents. “Which one do we need?”

“The pods for us and the baby one for the girls. Get two of each,” I read from the list.

Callum picks both, arranging them in the cart like he’s playing Tetris.

“Are you having financial troubles, Callum?” The thought distracts me.

“No, but I worry. Most of my money is tied up in my apartment and the mortgage. I’m thinking about selling it. A one-bedroom house isn’t suitable for any of us.”

Damn, we’ve never even asked about his home before. “Do you want to sell it?”

He shakes his head, then contradicts himself as if he hadn’t realized he’d done so. I should look into it… maybe I can pay it off?

“I have a lot of memories there, but it’s no longer suitable. There’s no need for it. I’ve just been procrastinating about going there to sort out what I want to keep and what I can sell or donate.”

“When did you buy the place?” I try to steer the conversation away from selling, sensing that it’s causing him distress.

“I was twenty-four. I saved up the deposit and bought it on my first anniversary with the force. It seemed like a good investment. A place I could live without being with my parents.”

It reminds me of our first apartment that we couldn’t part with. It’s rented out now, providing us with some extra cash while still being in our names.

“Can you grab some baby wipes? Four boxes, apparently.” I guess two kids will mean we need more.

“What brand?” he asks, standing before the multitude of boxes.

“Their own.” He collects the boxes, playing Tetris again, fitting them perfectly in the cart.

“What else do we need?”

“Eggs, milk, butter, some spices, and some canned tomatoes. Then we have to go to The Little Shack to pick up a seafood order.”

“Does Catherine do this every few weeks all by herself?” he inquires, reaching for a pack of twenty-four eggs.

“I think she comes with Dante, but he’s been a bit preoccupied lately,” I muse.

“That’s my fault. I want this company to succeed, but I don’t want to spend as much time as is needed to get it off the ground. I like being at home with Violet and Ella.”

I halt the cart, turning to Callum. “Dante is more than willing to help. Besides, I heard you gave half of your share to him?”

He smiles, heading to the fridge to grab two bottles of milk and the butter before asking which one we wanted. “I did, it seemed fair. Plus, it’s nice having Dante as a partner. He knows what he’s doing.”

“Can you grab some of those yogurts? Zach loves them,” I nod toward the corner yogurts with the jams that Zach adores.

“Are they on the list?”

“Nope.” He laughs, gathering a bunch of yogurts and placing them in the cart.

We wander the rest of the aisles, checking out what the store has to offer. We find some toys on sale. We buy a play mat with a piano at the foot and a bar of toys that hangs over the child. We also find some soft fabric cubes and some stacking rainbows. We get two, so the girls each have one to play with. We also find some snacks, right by the checkout. Dried apricots and pineapple. Multipacks of nuts and fruit which are handy little pots that we can use for snacks for Violet upstairs in bed. There are also multipacks of the milk we bought for Tilly, so I gather two packs of three to have in the cupboard for her.

Fortunately, we only have to belt the small stuff and leave the large items in the cart where they scan everything. Callum, of course, repacks the cart as if it’s a game to make everything fit perfectly.

There was a time in my life when I did the same things, the repetitive motion of placing things in an order that fit or in a row to make my head happy. It makes me wonder if Callum suffers the same as I do. But he’s never mentioned being autistic or having OCD, so I suppress the urge to ask. If he wants to tell me, he would, and if not? That’s okay too.

The cashier rings everything up and then tells us the total. “That’ll be $1057.98, please?”

Callum nearly trips over something imaginary on the floor while I smile at the cashier, pulling out my card to pay. She smirks at Callum as I’m entering my pin, her gaze lingering a bit too long as her cheeks flush a lovely shade of pink.

“Damn, how long will this food last?” Callum whispers as we exit the store.

“Weeks, probably… Why?”

He sighs. “That’s like a month’s wages for some.”

Now it’s my turn to sigh. “I know, Callum. Why do you think I donate my wages to homeless shelters? I know we live privileged.”

He looks at me as an attendant checks our receipt before we can leave the building. “I know you donate… it’s just. Man, that’s a lot of money.”

I take his hand in mine, using both of us to push the cart toward my car. “I know.”

Callum again packs the trunk of my car, ensuring everything fits snugly except for the fruit that we put in the back foot wells… so it doesn’t get crushed by anything.

Starting the engine, I navigate us out of the large parking lot to drive toward the small seafood shop on the corner of Roe Hill Street.

“How are you and Zach so grounded if you have so much money?” Callum’s voice is tinged with nervousness as he asks his question. I can understand why he’s nervous. He probably doesn’t even know how much we truly earn or are worth.

“Zach’s always had money. His parents were never worse off and still aren’t actually. But Carla always made sure we knew that our worth was never tied to money. It’s who you decide to be outside of that, which shows your true worth, or so she taught us. My mother and sister and I? Well, we came from nothing. My mother was a teen mom when she had me, and my father was in the army, apparently. He was okay with me, but then my mom fell pregnant with Kelsie… and he decided to leave. So we slept rough for most of Kels’ pregnancy. I remember it vividly, which is unusual for memories to stay from such a young age. But it was awful. I was constantly hungry and cold and dirty. And after Carla and Jerry had taken us under their wing, I vowed to make sure my mom never suffered again. I didn’t realize we would be so successful, and I still struggle with our wealth. But I’ve found ways to make good of my situation over the years.

“If I were Violet, I would fall at your feet and confess my undying love for your philanthropic ways,” he smirks, looking forward as I continue to drive. I can’t help but smile. She’d done it before. When I gifted Len and Charlotte that card, and when I told her about my wage donation.

“I love you.” Those three little words hit me like a lightning bolt. I glance at Callum, my mouth agape, my focus drifting from the road. He grabs the wheel, snapping me back to reality. Love.

My heart swells, filled with the realization that Callum just did something I never thought he would outside of our intimate moments. To be honest, I had assumed that the other night was just a spur-of-the-moment thing.

“I love you too, Callum. You know that.”

His smile broadens, seemingly content with my regained focus. He releases the steering wheel, resting his hand on my knee. I grasp it, bringing it to my lips for a gentle kiss.

Damn. He picked a ridiculous time to share something so…monumental.