Still, I put my phone away. “I definitely don’t need to be. But it’s good to hear you laughing, Middle.”
We wander through the market, accumulating red pepper jelly and bacon jam, and two kinds of artisanal crackers from a pop-up shop called theLaughing Ladle.
“Do you think it’s weird they don’t sell soup?” Cassie asks after we move on.
“Mmm. And it’s also strange that their ladle logo isn’t laughing.”
Jules joins us, swinging a bakery bag, as we lean on each other, cackling hysterically. “What did I miss?”
“Soup,” Cassie wheezes.
“And I texted Garrett a bunch,” I admit.
“No cookies for you.” Jules wiggles her fingers. “Hand over your phone.”
“I’m going to the cheese stall,” Cassie says before disappearing.
“I’m handing this over willingly,” I say.
The phone vibrates the second it hits Jules’ palm. She eyes me. “The two of you are pathologically entwined.”
We don’t even live together, I want to admit.You wouldn’t have to scroll back very far to see that.Instead, I deflect. “It could be Mom.”
She checks. “It’s him. He says he’s back at the farm now.”
“No other update?”
She shows me the screen.
A queer little feeling I don’t want to name flutters in my belly.
“Do you want to dictate areply?”
“No.” Yes is the real answer. I want to drop a thumbs up on the update, and fire back a micro update of my own. Something small enough to not be necessary to send, but just sharing because once upon a time, we shared everything. We loved everything. Wewereentwined, and it wasn’t pathological at all.
I hate that we lost that.
I hate that so, so much.
But today, this afternoon, isnotthe time for that.
Bechdel Fucking Test.
Jules puts the phone in her pocket, oblivious to my inner turmoil.
We find Cassie deep in conversation with a young woman at the cheese stand.
We wander to the thrifted goods stall next door, and a red sparkly vest catches Jules’ eye. We stop so she can inspect it and that’s when I see a kitchen timer in the shape of a garishly painted chicken.
And it winds up to exactly ninety minutes.
“What’s that?” Jules asks, looking over my shoulder.
I test it out to see if it works. It starts…making clucking sounds.
“Oh my God,” she says when I hold it up for the vendor to give me a price. “Why?”
We’ve talked about Garrett enough.
