Troy walked in wearing his leather vest, pink boots, fairy wings, and the original crown.
But this time, Ava was not sitting in the cart.
She was standing beside him.
Her hand held tightly to his.
She wore a pink dress, white sneakers, and a tiny crown of her own. Her steps were slow and careful, but they were steps.
Troy did not rush her.
The greeter covered his mouth.
The bakery worker started crying.
I stood behind register seven with my hand pressed against my chest.
Ava looked at the bananas, then up at Troy.
In a small but clear voice, she said, “Royal bananas, Daddy.”
Troy bent down like she had just handed him the whole world.
“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered. “The royal bananas are waiting.”
Register Seven Again
When they reached my lane, I could barely scan.
Ava handed me the cereal herself.
Then the stickers.
Then a bottle of pink nail polish.
