It only happened every few months, when Bethany’s mom was feeling especially out of it, but it was a whole spectacle. Bethany’s mom would burst into her room in the middle of the night and shake her awake. 

“Get up,” she would say. 

Bethany would roll over and pretend it wasn’t happening. Bethany’s mom would then go to the light switch and flick it on and off, and on and off again. 

“Get up!”

At this point it was futile. Bethany knew she was going shopping. The worst was when it happened on school nights. Bethany was always tired the next day, sometimes she fell asleep in class, and she was too embarrassed to tell her teachers why. It was her mom, after all; she couldn’t just blame it all on her. She was a single mom, doing her best. 

Bethany and her mom would get into their Dodge Neon and drive to the nearest Walmart—it was open twenty-four hours, so they could shop all they wanted. Then Bethany’s mom would grab a cart and say, “Fill it with anything you want. Anything!” 

The first time this happened, Bethany’s face went red and her stomach sunk in excitement. Anything I want, she thought. Things must be on the up. No more embarrassing free lunches at school, no more Goodwill clothes. She’d be like one of the popular girls—happy and rich, living in a loving home. So she stuffed the cart with anything and everything she wanted. New clothes, new shoes, the fanciest school supplies, the trendiest toys, stuffed animals and dolls to decorate her room, fancy towels, nice pillows and blankets, she even thought of her mom and put a bread maker in the cart. The cart was so stuffed, Bethany had to pick up fallen toys and clothes as her mom jetted through the aisles. But then, Bethany’s mom stopped. She shoved the cart up against a shelf in the pharmaceutical aisle, and she said, “OK, let’s go.” She took Bethany’s hand and walked her out of the store with no more than they entered. 

The second time this happened, Bethany stuffed the cart. But, again, they abandoned it. The third time, Bethany didn’t fill the cart. This made Bethany’s mom angry. Bethany learned that when her mom took her shopping, the only way for it to end was to fill the cart. And every time, they abandoned the cart, never buying anything or leaving the store with anything new. 

This happened for years, until Bethany graduated high school and moved out. She bounced around with some piece of shit boyfriends until she landed on her feet in a mobile home. She finally had a place to herself. The mobile home was mostly empty—she had very little to her name, and Bethany’s mom was no help. In fact, they hadn’t spoken since she moved out. 

One night, Bethany couldn’t sleep, so she went to Walmart. She filled her cart with all the things she’d never had as a kid. Clothes, shoes, fancy school supplies, trendy toys, stuffed animals and dolls, towels, pillows, and blankets. She planned to abandon everything in the cart, just like her mom. But when Bethany let go of the cart, she realized this wasn’t enough for her. She thought for a second, then she stuffed a couple towels and toys into her coat and walked out of the store. Nobody noticed her, and no alarms sounded. Bethany returned to her mobile home and took her spoils out of her coat. It all belonged to her now. 

She kept this up for nine years, pilfering small loads of shoplifting hauls every few months when she couldn’t sleep. Her mobile home, which she still lived in, was stuffed full with everything she’d wanted as a kid. She could hardly move around without bumping into things. 

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When Bethany returned home from her mom’s funeral, she tripped on a stuffed unicorn and fell to the floor. She lay on the floor for a couple minutes, staring at the mountains of retail contraband around her, and broke down in tears. That night, she couldn’t sleep. So she drove to Walmart. This time, though, she brought some of her things with her. She went to the customer service desk and tried to explain everything. She said she didn’t have receipts, but she wanted to return these things. She didn’t want any money back or store credit, she only needed to return everything to its rightful owner. The man at the customer service desk laughed. He thought it was a prank. 

“You don’t understand,” Bethany said. “I need to return everything here.”

The man told her Walmart couldn’t take it back, but she could take everything to Goodwill or sell it on eBay. Bethany left, dejected, without returning anything. 

The next night, Bethany still hadn’t slept. She put some of her things into her coat, drove to Walmart, and secretly returned them to where they belonged. She was an expert shoplifter, so she knew what she was doing. She just had to do everything backwards, become a reformed kleptomaniac. Bethany walked around the store with an empty cart and dropped everything off, pulling items from her coat and packing them neatly into place. 

Bethany had shoplifted for nine years, and for seven years now she’d been steadily returning everything and more. She became obsessed with returning everything she had. She needed penance. Over the years, Bethany grew worried the workers would notice the crazy lady walking around for hours with an empty cart. She constantly changed her look to keep people off her trail. She dyed her hair—blonde, blue, purple, pink, green. She wore nonprescription glasses. One time she wore a hijab even though she wasn’t Muslim. Many times after Bethany came home from a long night of returning, she’d look in the mirror and she wouldn’t even notice herself. She was transforming every day, and everything around her was becoming bare and desolate. 

Before her last trip, Bethany realized she had nothing to return. Her mobile home was completely empty, save for the appliances that were there when she moved in. She still drove to Walmart and grabbed an empty cart. She walked around the store with nothing to return. Then she reached the women’s clothing aisle. She undressed and returned her clothes to where they belonged. She was stark naked. Bethany ditched her cart, and she walked out of the store with absolutely nothing at all. People stared and gasped. Workers shouted at her and told her to never return. Little did they know, she had no reason to. 

She’d left her car keys in her purse, which she’d left in the store. Bethany walked home four miles in the heavy August night heat. She went to turn on the box fan, but it wasn’t there. Bethany smiled. She had stripped herself of everything, and she was finally free.