4: 4
Two nights later, I came home from the night shift.
Four blood-red words were sprayed across my steel security door: "Poisoner. Pay up."
The stairwell was slick with fish blood and rotting vegetables.
My daughter was hiding inside, crying. She only opened the door when she heard my voice.
"Mommy, Hunter Abbott's outside saying you killed the dog. He kicked the door."
I photographed everything, saved the video, and called 911.
The next morning, I'd barely clocked in when my manager called me into the office.
He pointed out the window.
The Chavez family had the entrance blocked off, a white banner draped over a shopping cart.
"Supermarket employee Hester Fox poisoned and killed a dog, poisoned a child!"
"Store shields the culprit!"
Hunter sat on the ground, his arm wrapped in gauze.
Old Mrs. Chavez had a bullhorn and kept shouting my name, over and over.
The manager set a letter from the community association in front of me.
"The association says you're a resident with a record and you're under investigation."
"Customers won't come in the door. Corporate already called."
"The police haven't said I poisoned anything."
"I know. But the store can't take her showing up to cause a scene every day."
"So?"
"You're suspended for now. Come back when it's resolved."
I took off my name tag and set it on the desk.
"I want it in writing, with the reason for the suspension spelled out."
The manager was quiet for a moment, then printed the notice and signed it.
I walked out with the notice in hand.
Old Mrs. Chavez shoved Hunter forward and rushed at me.
She tore the gauze off the boy's arm.
The wound was oozing pus, the skin around it red, sweat beading all over his forehead.
"Everybody look! Hester's poison got on the dog."
"Hunter just held it once and it rotted like this."
"His fever hit a hundred and four last night, and she still won't pay."
I asked, "What did the hospital write?"
She flashed a billing receipt in front of my eyes.
"The doctor said it's poisoning."
"Show me the diagnosis."
She pulled the receipt back.
"Why should I show you? You want to destroy the evidence?"
Hunter clutched at the hem of her shirt.
"Grandma, my arm hurts. The doctor said I have to go to the big hospital for a shot."
"Shut up! What shot?"
"This is all her fault. Go get the money from her."
The boy lost his balance and hit the shopping cart.
The wound scraped the metal frame, and he burst into tears on the spot.
Old Mrs. Chavez didn't even glance at him. She whipped around and yelled at me.
"If there's debt on the house, then pay in cash!"
"Medical bills and emotional damages, eight hundred thousand total."
"One cent short and I'll be here every single day."
The crowd holding up phones had already closed into a ring around us.
Director Lambert came through the crowd in her red vest, a bullhorn in her hand.
"Hester Fox has already admitted it. The association advised her to take responsibility."
"Instead she's using a fake debt to dodge it. The child's hurt this badly and she's still stalling."
I looked at her.
"Do you have a lab report proving poisoning?"
"You admitted it yourself, and now you want to deny it?"
"Does Hunter's medical record say poisoning?"
Old Mrs. Chavez lunged and slammed a stack of papers into my face.
"A stocker like you can read a medical record?"
"If my grandson ends up crippled, I'll make your daughter pay for him her whole life."
The papers scattered across the ground.
The diagnosis on top was plain to read: soft tissue skin infection.
Recommend transfer to a higher-level hospital for treatment of an animal scratch and bite.
Director Lambert stepped on that page, bent down, and scooped it into Old Mrs. Chavez's bag.
"Enough talk. Get the store to fire her first."
The manager stood in the doorway.
"Hester, you should go. Your pay is on hold during the suspension."
Old Mrs. Chavez dragged Hunter right to the front.
Her fingernails dug into the edge of the boy's festering wound.
"Get a clear shot, everybody! This is the poison she used!"
"Eight hundred thousand today, or this doesn't end!"
I stood in the crowd.
Staring at the festering wound on Hunter's arm.
I stared at that wound for ten seconds.
Fixing its shape and every feature in my mind.
I didn't argue. I just gave a bow toward the store entrance.
"I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused everyone."
"To those of you recording just now, please hold on to the original high-resolution files."
Old Mrs. Chavez broke into wild laughter.
"Tomorrow I'll go to your daughter's preschool and let the whole school know you're a poisoner!"
I walked out of the supermarket through the shouting and cursing.
Those ten seconds were enough.
