Bread Winner

It was an ordinary day. I had made a list of groceries, and I had just gotten into my vehicle. I turned the ignition on and put on my seatbelt. My husband must’ve driven last. I adjusted the steering wheel, the seat, and lastly the mirror so I could actually see out the back.

I plugged in my cellphone, chose an indie playlist, and drove around the street to make a U-turn. I headed to the nearest supermarket—eight minutes of driving, during which I skipped through five songs on Spotify.

I found a parking spot in my secret place. I call it that because it’s less busy and just as close to the doors as the main lot. I aligned the car perfectly and finally parked. I took a dollar from the glove box and found a cart.

As I was walking in, there was a man sitting on the ledge of the short wall next to the store, panhandling for money. There’s usually a woman by the doors who asks for change, but today she was nowhere to be seen. I ignored him and walked by.

Once inside, I started swerving down the aisles.

Wait—what was I here for again?

I checked the list: milk, eggs, bread, juice, cough medicine, salad.

I started with the salad.

$6.99 for a premade salad? Really?

I glanced at the mixed greens—$7.50 for just the greens.

Premade salad it is.

I grabbed the second-to-last bag and inspected the leaves. That should last three days. I checked off “salad” on my list.

Next: milk and eggs. I headed to the dairy section.

Lactose-free milk—oh, it’s on sale for $4.99. Might as well grab two.

I also grabbed the last 3% milk and a carton of 2%. Into the cart they went.

Oh wait—there’s eggnog! Yes, it’s eggnog season again. I know it’s not on my list, but I grabbed a carton anyway.

Cough medicine was next. I carved through the wide aisles until I reached the narrow pharmacy section. I’d been coughing for days—nothing seemed to be working. Then I spotted it: a box of Buckley’s. I could hear the commercial in my head: “Tastes terrible, works great.”

I guess it’s worth a shot, but man—$21.00? What are they putting in this stuff? Gold? I put it in my cart.

Wait—I’m missing something. I checked the list. Oh, right—bread. I weaved my way to the bread aisle.

A baguette for a dollar—yeah, why not?

I threw it in my cart and picked out the bread I actually came for.

On the way to self-checkout, I grabbed juice. I scanned my items, paid, and walked out. As I passed the old man on the ledge, I noticed a cane next to him. He was just staring down at his boots.

I’m not working right now—I’m on stress leave. My husband had told me he couldn’t handle going to work either. We’re both on stress leave.

I got the groceries in the car, but I found I couldn’t drive away.

The old man probably lost his job—and then his house. Maybe he lives in a tent.

I took out my wallet. No change.

If I give him money, will he spend it on alcohol?

Still, I couldn’t leave. I kept thinking about the man on the ledge. That could easily be me.

I pictured myself driving home, slicing up the baguette, putting garlic and butter on it, and toasting it. I could almost taste the crunchy shell followed by the soft, warm bread soaked in butter and garlic.

Then I thought of the old man again. He needs this bread more than I do. I grabbed the baguette from my bag and got out of the car.

“Excuse me, I don’t have any change, but I can give you this,” I said as I handed him the baguette.

He gave me a weak smile and said, “Thank you,” as a tear rolled down his face. I got back into the car and drove home.

At least he’ll have something to eat tonight.