He turned the photograph over.
The promise.
“She knew?”
“She knew more than I wanted her to.”
The Cashier whispered, “Did she know she was dying?”
The Biker looked down.
“We never used that word around her.”
“Doctors did.”
“I didn’t.”
He rubbed the photograph.
“She finally told me I needed to stop lying.”
The Cashier almost smiled.
“She was twelve?”
“Bossiest person I ever knew.”
The Biker laughed quietly.
Then his face collapsed again.
“She said, ‘Dad, if I’m going to die, I don’t want to spend my last month protecting you from knowing it.’”
The Cashier looked away.
That sentence hurt.
The Biker continued.
“So we talked.”
“Really talked.”
“She was scared.”
“So was I.”
“She wanted to know if dying hurt.”
“I told her I didn’t know.”
“She asked whether I’d forget her voice.”
The Biker’s eyes closed.
“I promised no.”
The Cashier said nothing.
“I lied about that.”
He opened his eyes.
“Sometimes I can’t remember it exactly.”
The Cashier’s face crumpled.
The Biker shook his head.
“Then I remember something she said.”
“And it comes back a little.”
The Cashier looked at the old note.
“What did she say about the dolls?”
The Biker smiled.
“She said if she couldn’t keep having birthdays, somebody else could borrow them.”
The Cashier began crying again.
The Biker reached awkwardly toward the counter.
Then stopped.
He was not sure whether touching her would be welcome.
She solved that.
The Cashier walked around the register.
And hugged him.
The Biker froze.
Then one enormous arm wrapped around her shoulders.
The Store Manager turned away.
Not because he was uncomfortable.
Because his own eyes had filled.
The hug lasted only several seconds.
The Cashier stepped back.
“I’m sorry.”
The Biker shook his head.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“You kept it.”
The Cashier looked at her phone.
The old doll.
“Of course I kept it.”
The Biker wiped his face with the back of his hand.
The Store Manager stepped forward.
“Sir.”
The Biker looked over.
The manager swallowed.
“I…”
He glanced toward the dolls.
“I can apply the employee holiday discount.”
The Biker immediately shook his head.
“No, sir.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“You’re buying twelve.”
“I know.”
“Let us—”
The Biker placed the cash on the counter.
“My girl made me promise.”
He smiled faintly.
“She was particular.”
The Cashier laughed.
“She would’ve made you pay full price?”
“She’d tell me the store has employees who need wages.”
The Store Manager laughed softly.
“Smart kid.”
“Terrifying.”
The Biker counted the rest of the money.