The Pharmacy, Continued...

I held the folded bills tightly in my fist as the dog's outline seemed to grow in my peripheral. He needed my help. Silly, I thought, but the feeling was real. I looked over at Pop Pop. He was sitting at the end of the aisle, waiting for the prescription.

I had never just asked for money. Usually, if I needed some, I asked Grandma or Aunt Steffie if they had any jobs for me to do, and sure enough they always did. I couldn't figure out how much I needed exactly, but I figured another seventy-five cents would do the trick--it seemed better than asking for a whole dollar, anybody can give away some change.

My heart began to pound. Any second Pop Pop would get the medicine and peer down the aisle, calling me out the back door and to the car, I had to make my mind up quick. Every second I wasted was one second closer to letting my chance slip away. I turned and made my way towards the back of the store and Pop Pop. I knew he wouldn't say no--unless he didn't have the money--but the thought of just outright asking made me feel uneasy. I knew it was rude, but the thought of the stuffed animal sitting alone in the dusty store when the lights went out pushed me to continue.

Other people were waiting too, standing, arms folded, looking either at the floor or some curious spot on the ceiling--avoiding eye contact with anyone else. Most of them were younger, my mom's age, picking up prescriptions, cough drops, or Tylenol for their older parents, I guessed.

I walked up to Pop Pop. He was sitting in a chair at the end of the aisle. Others chairs were set out near the counter, apparently for the old people that came in and had to wait. The two white robed figures in the back walked in and out of sight, occasionally bringing a brown paper bag to the counter, folded shut and stapled with the receipt.

"Pop Pop," I said, getting his attention; he turned to his left, then to his right and down to me. "Can I have seventy-five cents?"

"Seventy-five cents," he repeated, assessing the question.

"I want to get something but I'm a little short," I said innocently, trying to sound as grown up as possible.

"Okay," he said, already digging into his pocket. He pulled out a handful of coins and displayed them on his soft hand, poking them back and forth with his finger.

"Thank you."

I took the coins and hopped my way to the front, picked up the little husky, and dropped it on the counter. The young guy behind the register saw me coming but barely swiveled around to acknowledge my presence. I dropped the money with one motion, making my intentions clear. He finally moved and picked up the dog, checked the price tag, and punched in the amount. He grabbed the pile of money next, counted it, then stopped. His eyes met mine. His blank expression puzzled me. I looked down at my feet.

"Uhmm," he groaned a few seconds later. I glanced up to the same vacant look: short black hair, pimpled forehead, straight lips, and dark eyes burning through me. My heart began to pound as the awkwardness of the situation grew. He just stared at me. What was he waiting for? My eyes wandered again.

He finally opened his thin lips, "Ahh, it's $9.99."

My eyes wandered up to the orange tag behind the dogs ear. It read $9.99. I had seen the wrong price.

"Oh," I said, now wanting to shrivel up and disappear. "N-never mind."

I swept my money off the counter and back into my pocket, then grabbed the dog, the whole time trying to ignore the one-way staring contest going on behind the counter. I dropped the husky back on the shelf and stiffly walked back down the aisle towards the back of the store.
When we got back in the Buick I gave Pop Pop his seventy-five cents back.

"Didn't need it?" he asked, sounding a bit surprised.

"No," I answered quickly, "I didn't get anything."