Free JACK KNIFED by Christopher Greyson Page B

of neatly stocked shelves filled the right section. Racks of clothes were on the left. Jack frowned. The checkout was in the back of the store. It was a throwback to a more innocent age when people were trusted. The policeman in him cringed.
    A few shoppers were scattered around the store, but he was looking for an employee. A young girl with a red apron stocked some shelves. She stopped as Jack approached.
    “Can I help you?” She was maybe sixteen, with blond pigtails, braces, and a warm smile.
    “I need an air mattress.”
    “I know where one is.” The girl spun around and walked down the aisle. As she searched the shelves, she held her finger out in front of her like a pointer.
    “Nope…no…it was…here,” she proclaimed as she located the one faded box. “Are you using it for sleeping?”
    Jack blinked a couple of times and tried not to smirk.
    “Actually, I’m with a traveling circus and we need it because our net broke.”
    The girl’s eyes became saucers, and her neck lengthened. “Really?”
    Jacked laughed. The girl kept smiling, waiting for him to elaborate.
    He laughed again, louder. “I’m sorry; it’s a joke. I just—”
    A loud pop was followed by the tinkle of broken glass. The girl screamed and jumped around. Just behind her, an old woman stood frozen in place. Her hands were out in front of her, and whatever she’d been holding lay in a million pieces at her feet. Jack glanced first at the shelf in front of her and then at the glass punch bowls, but her face drew his eyes back. He couldn’t place the emotions that raced across her eyes. Fear. Confusion. Warmth.
    “Are you okay?” Jack moved the clerk to the side and slowly approached the woman. “You should back up a little because of the glass.”
    The woman seemed to age even more before his eyes as she continued to grow paler. Her trembling, gnarled hand reached up to her mouth while the other pulled her jacket tighter to her chest. She stepped forward; her feet crunched the glass on the floor.
    Jack angled his head and tried to smile as he reached out to steady her. She didn’t take his outstretched hand. Instead, her hand touched the side of his face as she moved even closer. The woman was in her seventies. She was very small and slightly hunched over. Her white hair was short and wispy, but her blue eyes were bright and now glistened with tears.
    “I’m sorry, do I know your parents?” The woman’s voice was a whisper.
    Jack swallowed. He opened his mouth and closed it again.
    “Mrs. Ritter? Mrs. Ritter!” An older man with a red apron rushed down the aisle toward them.
    She didn’t take her eyes from Jack’s face. She smiled at him, and a large tear ran down her wrinkled cheek.
    “I think…” Jack straightened up. “I don’t think so. I’m not from around here.”
    The old woman’s lip trembled, and her hand fell back to her side.
    “I’m sorry, sir.” The clerk put his arm around her shoulder.
    Jack grabbed the mattress box and spun around. Replacement stood behind him. As he stormed by, she reached for his arm, but he didn’t slow down; he marched to the checkout counter and quickly counted out the bills.
    “Jack…”
    “Don’t.”
    He kept his eyes on the floor as he retreated to the car. Replacement’s door had barely closed when Jack whipped the car out of the space. His face was white, and his jaw was set.
    “Jack…”
    “I said don’t.”
    “She’s your—”
    “Nothing. You don’t know.” He smacked the steering wheel. “My mother was a whore. How do I know that he even was my father?”
    “Jack.” Replacement sat up. Jack glared over at her; she closed her eyes and whispered, “Jack, you know he’s your fa—”
    “You don’t know. I doubt Patricia knew who the real father was. He could have been a hundred different guys.”
    “Look at that picture. He looks just like you.”
    Jack’s teeth ground together. “Even if he was, so what? He was probably as crazy as her. He dated a