Nothing Less

“Landon can speak for himself.” Dakota’s voice is pulled tight by a string stretching all the way back to our childhood.

“I was trying to help you.” Nora pushes forward and Dakota moves toward her. I don’t know if I can keep the peace tonight. I have no energy to break up a catfight.

“You two, stop it.” I push my arms out to my sides between them.

Dakota keeps her distance, but doesn’t keep her mouth shut. “Maggy has been trying to get hold of you, too.”

Dakota narrows her eyes at Nora, and Nora shrugs her shoulders. “And? I don’t live there anymore—there’s nothing to talk about.”

Dakota doesn’t seem to like that answer. I look back inside the corner store to check on Ellen. I don’t see her behind the counter. I start moving toward the store and Nora grabs my sleeve.

“Let go,” I snap at her. I rush a “Sorry” from my lips, but she couldn’t possibly have heard it.

When I pull the door open, the guys are checking out. They are loud, and the two smallest ones are tossing a candy bar in the air between them. Only one of the boys even notices me approach them. He looks at me, but doesn’t seem to care that I’m there.

When I look out the door, I see Dakota and Nora talking at a close distance. Neither of them appears to be shouting; this is a good start.

“How much is this?” one of the boys asks Ellen. His voice is deep for a teenager, and I think they have been in here long enough.

Ellen is bagging a small bag of Doritos, oblivious and moving efficiently. She takes a $10 bill from one of the boys and makes him change.

The kid looks down at the five in his hand. “I gave you a twenty.” He bought a Mountain Dew and the bag of chips.

“You gave me a ten,” Ellen says flatly. She turns her head like she’s trying to make sense of what’s happening. I can see her questioning herself.

I speak up from behind the boys. “You gave her a ten. Now take your stuff and get out.”

Slowly (good thing this isn’t a video game, because I would have had them all on the floor by now) they turn around and look me up and down. I get a good look at these kids, and just as I’m trying to figure out if they’re going to get aggressive, I hear Dakota yell behind me, “Get the fuck out! Whatever dumb shit you’re thinking about doing is going to change the rest of your life. If you want to have one, walk away.”

The crowd of kids (the oldest can’t be a day older than fifteen) clear out quickly, grumbling to themselves as they pass. Dakota doesn’t look at them. She’s staring at me.

I don’t know what to do. It’s been so long since we’ve been able to communicate wordlessly. Once we could have held an entire conversation this way. I think back to how she was before. It’s hard to put the young version of her up against the one staring back at me now. It’s confusing to recognize someone so deeply, yet feel so disconnected. Dakota’s expression is puzzled when I force my eyes away from her. Carter is fresh on my mind tonight and looking at Dakota pains me.

I walk over to the counter and approach a confused Ellen. She’s straightening out the plastic bags under the register. “You have to be careful down here working so late alone. Do you have anything to protect yourself with?” I glance around the back of the counter. Boxes of papers are stacked at her feet, along with an open tool case. Well, I guess she could have used one of those hammers if she had to . . .

“I’m fine—and I’m the only one who can work this late,” she says a little harshly.

I wish it were as safe for her to work alone at night as it would be for me, but the truth is, that’s not the reality. And I don’t want to embarrass her further by asking why only she can be here at night. I don’t doubt her, and it’s not something I can press.

“Just be careful, okay?” I say. “And call your dad every time a group of boys comes in like that.”

Ellen rolls her eyes, but I believe her when she says that she will. After I suggest that she close up for the night, I go back outside.