One Day Sale

ONE DAY SALE

M. L. Rowlett

Adult

Holiday Short Story

ONE DAY SALE

A Short Story

Robin was desperate, pulling into the last parking spot and checking the time. Not desperate in a thirsty way, no. Those dating apps were worthless to her. Too much wasted time on jerks wasting away their lives with selfish abandon. She had only one hour during her lunch break to find the toy. His toy. The one he’s been too modest and understanding to bring up. But Robin saw the drawing that was stuffed into her son’s backpack last week.

For Christmas, he wanted what all the other boys had. An Army Guy action figure that looked just like his dad in uniform, posed and caught in a picture frame. Too still. Too frozen in time that tears caught in her throat when she passed it in the hallway.

The plastic role model was complete with flexing muscles and a rope to rappel with. When Tommy’s best friend came over to play, it was apparent that Army Guy was the only thing on his wish list to Santa. But whenever his mother asked, he said nothing. Not in an angry or dry tone—no. Tommy said it as if just spending one-on-one time with Mom piecing puzzles together (last year’s gift from Santa that had been a re-gift her son was unaware of) was the most precious thing in his world.

The ShopMart’s One Day Sale after Thanksgiving was more than an ear-splitting, sweaty nightmare. As soon as she had stepped through the automatic doorway, the screaming and pushing and shoving and cursing hysteria had begun.

Is this what material things do to people? She speculated. Her stomach rumbled, asking for the meal that she’d skipped. Her meager protein shake could wait.

Aisle after aisle of branded boxes and perspiring shoppers, she searched for the toy, afraid someone would get physical and rip a hole in her trusty coat if she looked at them wrong or said the wrong thing. She never knew how to socialize with people outside of her nursing shift or bubble for two at home. Robin tuned out the roar of people, and in her own way, rose above the waves of panic that surrounded her. Above the materialistic bloodshed, sweat, and frenzied tears.

When she finally arrived at the correct shelf, her nerves surged, realizing her luck. There on the shelf sat one lone Army Guy waiting to be bought, handled with care, and taken home to be cherished with joy.

“I found it!” a small girl in an oversized coat exclaimed. She pointed toward Tommy’s new toy that was only affordable today. At first, Robin thought her long nursing shift had made her imagine the little girl out of fear or overwhelm, but she spoke again. “Daddy look! I found his gift.” The reassurance of reality made her breathing more even. With the wild sale around her, and pulse racing in her ears, she contemplated taking a pill. Or maybe just a hot bath when her workday was over. After all, she hadn’t seen Her in quite some time.

Before she realized what she was doing, Robin made for the toy while the girl pivoted her attention. She grasped it, knuckles pale and her temperature rising amid layers of clothing. Would she really upset her son again on Christmas? No. Army Guy could fill the void that Tommy kept hidden. And it was ethical since the shopping father hadn’t rounded the corner yet.

But now there he stood, holding his daughter’s hand—the daughter who had Her hair and was slowly turning red and bursting into a fountain of tears.

Am I any different, Robin thought, from the shoppers who hunger for things to appease someone they love?

“Here,” she said, handing the girl with pigtails the toy. They shared a quaint smile. Tears dried with snot swept onto a sleeve.

“Are you sure?” The father looked at her as if she were the shining holiday tree in the square that tourists posed by.

Her throat was suddenly dry, wishing for the water bottle she had left in her car, and she fidgeted with a button on her favorite coat. The last gift her late husband, Stan, had given her. “Yes, I’ll think of something else to get him.”

Next thing she knew, the girl’s father was handing over his phone asking for her number to arrange a playdate for Tommy and his son.

“I’m Dan, by the way.” He squeezed the girl’s hand. “And this is Rosie. My son’s name is Ronnie. He’s a bit of an adventure junkie.” Dan gestured to the toy in the shiny plastic box.

“Robin,” she said, with a light hand to her chest. “My little one’s name is Tommy.” She almost bit her tongue, remembering not to mention her eldest, who’d also been in the car when it had crashed three years ago. Terry was her name.

“Are you hungry? We’re planning to grab some brunch at Lucy’s after this…” he paused and glanced at two full-grown adults fighting over a unicorn stuffed animal, “craziness.”

Her stomach bottomed out, hollow and begging for her to say yes. Robin checked her phone to see the time. Only half an hour remained of her break. Deliberation made her voice shake more than she liked. “I don’t know.”

“Please,” Dan said. “Buying you lunch is the least I can do to thank you. I can hear how angry your stomach is.”

She’d never been before. “Do they have good chocolate-chip pancakes?” She asked, still on the flimsy fence.

“All that, and more.” His bare finger matched hers.

Rosie tugged on her hand, pulling. Begging like her stomach. “Please? They have a kajillion kinds of syrup, and we can try them all, and then we can see who can eat theirs the fastest.”

Robin’s hand was now sticky, and her heart swelled. “Okay, I’ll go.”

“Yay!” Rosie shrilled.

When she met eyes with Dan, she clarified rather ungracefully, “but only because I haven’t found the best pancake spot yet. You know, for research.” Robin found herself lightheaded and was unsure if it was from hunger or the dimple in his smile.

“For research,” he agreed.

Robin relished her plate at the diner: sopping with sugar and chocolate. A rarity on her meal-prepping plan. It had been a while since she’d laughed like that—belly aching and fluttering. It could have been the sugar’s fault. Afterward, she sifted through torn emotions on her drive to work.

Is it okay to have fun again? She pondered. Guilt coated her throat when she clocked in, and she shoved it behind a faux grin. A patient deserves the best, after all.

When the playdate day came, it morphed into something she never expected and wasn’t ready for. A playdate for the kids turned into a date when Robin and Dan learned they were both widowers and shared an admiration for all-things superhero. Years of playdates with shared toys and timid dates with red lipstick, ties, movies, pancakes, and sweatpants passed by.

Presently, the couple braved another One Day Sale without the kids since they were with their preferred sitter. Robin perused the rings sparkling behind a sheet of glass, then to the man she tried so hard not to fall for. They shared a warm look that was like the hug of a coat in a storm.

On the first day he’d met Tommy, Dan had made him a superhero cape made from safety pins and a pillowcase after the two had ogled over random facts all revolving around Tommy’s first choice: Superman. The toy is on his new list.

The Army Guy had come and gone. But the time spent with Dan and the kids had stretched out nicely. It was painful at first for Robin to bond with his little girl, but she knew in the crevices of her healing heart that Terry and Stan would want happiness for the remaining two who now mourn in a new way. In the joy of creating new memories and cherishing the ones past.

Robin adjusted her coat and squeezed her fiancé’s arm. She thought, Family is all we really need.

The End.