Chapter 5: The Register

The day after Christmas, Cheadle Feed & Supply has its biggest sale of the year.

Half the county shows up for it, and my father stands at the front register all morning in a red apron, shaking hands.

I knew that, because I had worked that register every December since I was fourteen.

At ten o'clock I drove in and parked at the end of the lot.

I had on my good black dress from a cousin's wedding last June.

It had a high front and no back at all.

I left my coat on until I stood inside the door.

The store was packed.

There were twelve people in the line at the front, and more in the aisles with their arms full of salt blocks and heat lamps.

Daisy was at the second register with a customer.

My father had a pile of work gloves in his hands and a laugh ready.

Nobody noticed me until I took off my coat.

I folded it, set it on a bag of feed, and walked up to the counter.

Then I turned my back to the line.

The conversation near the door dropped away first.

"Morning, everybody," I said.

I kept my voice level.

"I'm Della Cheadle, Russ's older girl. Some of you saw the video. Most of you probably laughed, and that's all right."

Behind me, my father said, "Della. Not here."

"On Christmas Eve my sister told me she was painting my back with washable paint," I said. "She said it would fade in a few days."

I took the brown bottle out of my bag and set it on the counter.

"This is what she used. It comes off that shelf, there, by the register. Read the label."

A woman at the front picked it up and read it aloud.

"Permanent livestock marking ink. Do not apply to skin."

Someone in the line said, "Oh my God."

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