Saving Rain

by Kelsey Kingsley

“Thanks so much, Soldier,” Billy’s mom said after I finished loading a dozen bags of groceries into her trunk. “Am I allowed to tip you?” My boss, Gordon, had told me I wasn’t supposed to accept tips. Sweeping the floor, bagging groceries, and helping people load them into their cars were what I was paid to do, he had said on more than one occasion, and accepting extra money for it was strictly prohibited. Still, I hesitated for a moment as I watched her dig a ten out of her purse. I stared at the bill in her hand as the very end of the green paper flapped gently in the breeze, tempting me with every flutter. I heard the sound of it like an alcoholic heard a cap pop off a beer—amplified ten times over, resounding louder than the rest of the world around me. I wanted to reach for it, grasp it in my greedy hand, and spend it on something. A nice, juicy burger or maybe a new pair of jeans down at the thrift store. Something I needed more than I wanted. But I didn’t. “Oh, I can’t accept tips,” I finally told her, peeling my eyes away from the bill after too many seconds went by. “Gordon doesn’t let us.” Billy’s mom eyed me with more sympathy than I preferred. Then, she whispered, “You can take it, Soldier. I won’t tell anyone. You know that.” She was tempting me too much. If she’d pushed just a little harder, I probably would’ve taken it and blamed it on her insistence and not on how badly I needed some new socks. But I shook my head profusely and thanked her anyway with a for...