Mumble

②⓪①⑤ - C H A P T E R [4]

The door to the mini-mart opened with a faint hiss as Ozzie stepped inside. Water dripped from the fringes of his clothes and across the bright linoleum floor, the soles of his beat-up converse squeaking over it. His hands were shoved in his pockets, a couple mashed twenties in his closed palms. The feel of his wallet was a solid weight against his fists.

The rain had picked up again after the movie, turning the sky a roiling gray and whipping the wind to and fro between the fronds of the palm trees lining Santa Monica Boulevard. Taking a breath, he loosened his shoulders, walking towards the snack aisle. The shelves were full of chips and colorful looking candies, some hard, some soft; a rainbow of corn syrup and preservatives. His steps squelched obscenely with each one he took. He glanced out a rain splattered window to where Toni's beat up Prius sat waiting by a gas pump. And people say we're in a drought.

Taking his hands out of his pockets, Ozzie pulled down his hood. He rubbed them together, blowing in the space between them. His pants felt clammy and glued to his legs, his shoes like soggy puddles. He really should've brought an umbrella. He looked back down at the chips in front of him. Pringles. Ruffles. A couple different flavors of Lays before getting into those cheap knock-offs with weird cheese bunnies on them. He grimaced at the sight, grabbing a bag of Ruffles, cheddar and sour cream flavored. He looked back up.

There weren't too many people inside the mini-mart. A droopy-eyed acne ridden cashier, early twenties at the most, flipped through a magazine at the register, her neon nails tapping against the counter top. There was a mother and her child, the child pointing at everything in the store going 'what's that?' 'what's that?' and, finally, a woman dressed in all black. She stood off to the side, a Brisk in one hand, magazine in the other. Ozzie blinked. Her hijab was wrapped around her head and a shroud was draped around the rest of her. Something about her though, beyond her dress...it was in her stature and build, it reminded him of his mother, of his--

***

("Ammi! Ammi!" Ozzie called, bounding down the hall towards his parent's room. James had just found the coolest rock ever. It was round and smooth and sorta looked like there was a smiley face etched in the middle. If you squinted. He couldn't wait to show his Ammi! Skidding to a halt, he stopped in the doorway, large smile on his face. "Look at what James found!" He said, thrusting his hand out and holding the rock up for inspection. His Ammi turned, and the smile slowly slid from his face, replaced with a confused sort of frown. She was dressed funny, covered head to toe so that only her warm brown eyes showed.

She bent forward, taking Ozzie's hands in hers. "Ah! Guddu! What a pretty rock!" She gushed. "Almost looks like it's smiling, no?"

Ozzie blinked, tilting his head to the side. He went to pull at the scarf around his mother's head, but she stopped him with a gentle squeeze of his hand. "Where are you going Ammi?" He asked. He didn't understand why she was dressed like that, covered from head to toe when it wasn't even Halloween, but he knew it had to mean something.

Her eyes crinkled at the corners and she patted the top of his head. "I'm going to see my Ammi and Fafa." She said.

"Oh," Ozzie said, "can I come?" He'd never met his Ammi's Ammi or Fafa. Only his dad's. When he thought about it, that was decidedly strange. He nodded to himself. "I want to come." He decided.

His mother laughed, but shook her head. "Oh, Guddu. You can't come." She bopped him on the nose. "You're not old enough."