She gives me one last kiss at the corner of my mouth, then she quietly trudges up the stairs to her bedroom with her mug. “I’ll text you a list,” Lana murmurs.
I watch her disappear up the stairs before I retreat to the kitchen. I attempt to salvage the coffee in my mug by heating it up in the microwave. I wish I could let the coffee go cold because I was upstairs with her, holding her back to sleep. When it has twenty seconds left, my phone dings with a text. Lana’s list.
Lana
Groceries: tomatoes, strawberries, lemons, flour, sugar, milk (lactose free), orange juice (no pulp), apples, bananas, vanilla ice cream, eggs, bacon
Christian
Anything else?
Lana
Buy nail polish (Essie ballet slippers!!!) and nail polish remover.
Oh, and toilet paper
And toothpaste
She tells me the nail color as though I’ve forgotten the only nail polish color she’s ever usedreligiously.
Christian
That’s all? I thought it’d be longer
Lana
You’re hilarious, have fun on your chore tour
Goodnight
I huff.Chore tour,she’s calling it?
I suppose I can still learn a thing or two about this domestic life she keeps scolding me about.
The town’s supermarket is huge, probably even bigger now than I remember. They’ve renovated it and taken away the horrifying red, brown, yellow clash they’d had since I was a kid.
Now it’s brighter and the entire space feels much more open. It also smells better.
I lose track of my surroundings and stop pushing the cart when I go down a particular aisle. Last time I stopped for groceries, it was a quick trip. I didn’t browse the aisles for other things we might need other than the milk and juice my baby asked for.
My hands are curled into tight fists, one on the handle of the cart and the other at my side. I’m frozen in this aisle like it’s the test of a lifetime. Like I don’t know if I’ll make it out alive.
This should be easy, shouldn’t it? Iwanta drink. I don’tneedit the way I used to these days though. But there is always that echo ofwhat if?
Stick to her list,I tell myself. Again and again.
You have a list.
Read the list.
My eyes moved across the labels and brands instead. Supermarket wine isn’t great, especially not here. The beer is subpar—regular old beers that you can find pretty much anywhere.
Six packs of them.
There’s a liquor store down the shopping center. They have the better names, I’m sure of it.Don Q. Patrón. Don Julio. Absolute. Grey Goose. Smirnoff. Tito’s. Casa Azul. Svedka.
They have everything better than this shitty selection here.
