Glad to get out of his proximity, she went out back where the pallets of salt were dropped off this morning. She carefully cut away the wrapping and carried one forty-pound bag inside at a time, forming a tidy stack along the back wall.
In towns like theirs, where the snow amounted to drifts the height of men and the winters were long, people tended to hoard the salt supply so they only put a small amount of bags on the floor at a time. Her shoulders ached once she moved half the supply.
Her fingers grew numb as she hoisted the chilled bags onto her shoulder. Gray clouds swathed the sky and the air wore the metallic scent of snow. With the door propped open, the back room was as cold as a meat locker. Good thing she moved the bags inside now because she already spotted a few flurries dancing in the air.
“I guess we’re heating the outside now.” Her father kicked the wedge out from under the door and the heavy metal slammed shut.
He scowled at the wall lined with salt bags. “Are you blind or just plain illiterate? That’s not what we ordered.”
She shifted her weight under the last bag, shivering from the cold. “What are you talking about?”
“This isn’t the salt we get. Who let them deliver this shit?”
“I did, and it’s not shit.” She shoved past him and dropped the last sack on the pile. “It’s easier on the pavement and better for the environment.” As she turned, her head knocked back, pinching her neck, and a burst of white light popped behind her eye.
She crashed into the stack of salt bags, landing on her knees. Her frozen hand instinctively rushed to her cheek and she cursed.
She should have expected the slap the moment she argued with him, but he still caught her off guard on occasion. Her cheek blazed, the skin stinging and her bone throbbing. Tears rushed to her eyes, an emotionless reflex at this point, but one she couldn’t help.
“You don’t make those decisions around here.”
Uncaring about the goddamn salt order, she gently touched her fingers to her face, inspecting for blood but not seeing any. “What is wrong with you?” she growled, shoving herself off the cement floor.
“I gave you a job and you can’t follow the simplest instructions. Return the order and order what I told you to order in the first place.”
“It’s already snowing. People will need—”
Her words cut off as he shot her a threatening glare. “Get a refund or I’m taking it out of your check.”
Just then, the front bell rang. Her father tapped a cigarette out of his pack and lit it. “Go!” he barked, and she rushed back to the store as he muttered something about girls being useless.
Rubbing her cheek, she blotted her eyes and looked at the mirrors posted in the corners of the store, spotting a flannel-covered customer toward the front.
She rounded the corner and came to a jolting stop. “Finn.”
He smiled at her. “I dropped the kids off but came back for the shovel. Flurries started and now they’re predicting more than two feet of snow.”
She couldn’t form a word, so she just led him to the display in the back and handed him one.
“You okay?”
“Fine.”
He sniffed the tobacco-tinged air. “Your dad around?”
“In the back.” He followed her to the front counter and she punched the order into the register, waiting for him to swipe his card and avoiding any eye contact.
“Erin, you sure you’re okay? Your cheek’s red.”
“I was outside unloading salt bags. It’s cold.” She met his challenging glare with one of her own because experience taught her people rarely question the glaringly obvious. They all wanted to appear concerned, but no one truly wanted to get involved.
As expected, he backed off and swiped his card. “Come out tonight. You look like you could use a few laughs.”
Like a night at O’Malley’s would accomplish that. “I’ll try.”
“Try. That’s all I ask.”
As soon as he left, she reached into her purse and pulled out a compact mirror, wincing at the bruise already forming on her cheek. She should have never moved back home or accepted this job, but it was all she could find.
That’s a lie.
She could have toughed it out. Looked for work outside of Jasper Falls, found a cheap, efficiency apartment until she saved up more money for something better. There had to be something wrong with a person who refused to abandon an abusive parent even in adulthood.
Why was she still here? She should have gotten out of this awful town years ago like Harrison had. But she stayed, and her life had gotten progressively more miserable with every passing day.
Somehow, walking away from her father felt like accepting defeat. It seemed like her failure as much as his. What was wrong with her? Why did no one like her? Her mother had left without ever looking back and, no matter how much she tried to help or impress her dad, he felt nothing but contempt for her. What sort of twisted, victimized thinking convinced her to stick around to be treated like that?