Hope was going to drive because she had a bigger car. All of Cherry’s sisters had huge SUVs. All of Cherry’s sisters had kids.
“Mom, let Cherry go home,” Hope said, helping their mom into the front seat. “She has the day off.”
“You’re both here, and you’re both coming,” their mom said. “Do you know how rare it is for me to see my girls at once?”
“You just saw us,” Hope said.
“Oh, great, I get to see my family on Christmas and Easter. Twice a year.”
“And Thanksgiving,” Cherry said. She was already in the car. She knew she wasn’t getting off the hook. “And Labor Day.”
Her mom turned back to smile at Cherry. “Do you remember how we’d all go grocery shopping together? You two girls were my helpers.”
Honny and Joy were awful at the grocery store. (And at church. And at school.) They’d run around. They’d try to ride on the end of the cart.“Worse than boys,”their mom would say.
And Faith was no help; she was forever the baby.
But Hope was always responsible, and always in charge. And Cherry had liked everything about grocery shopping. The lists. The bright packaging. The registers. She also liked being a good girl, like Hope. Not a scoundrel like Honny.
When they got to Hy-Vee, their mom insisted that they both come into the store. “You might see something you need.”
They found themselves trailing behind her with the cart. Just like when they were kids.
“Can I push?” Cherry asked. “My back is killing me. I need a walker.”
Hope relinquished the cart without acknowledging her. Their mom was wandering around the produce section, picking up fruit and putting it down, feeling every grapefruit in the display.
Cherry set one foot on the bottom of the cart and leaned over the handle, stretching her back.
Hope was standing at the other end of the cart with her arms folded, looking away. “I know you have a group thread without me,” she said.
Cherry exhaled heavily and set both feet on the floor. “You’re not missing anything.”
Hope turned around. Her face was blank. “I wonder if you’d say that ifyouwere the one who got taken off the group thread. I went from getting thirty text notifications a day to two a week.” She shook her head. “And they’re always about Mom.”
Cherry wasn’t sure how to reply. She’d never expected Hope to bring this up. Hope never diverted from the high road.
Cherry shrugged. “Honny—”
Hope cut her off with a huff. “Don’t blame Honny.”
Their mom dropped a bag of grapefruit into the cart. “When you girls were little, everyone was always eatinggrapefruiton diets. And cottage cheese. Why those two foods? Nobody eats grapefruit on diets now. Grapefruit isn’t keto, is it? Hope, can you eat grapefruit?”
“I’ve never really eaten grapefruit.”
“You did when you were a kid! I used to brûlée the sugar for you. WhenIwas a kid, everyone owned grapefruit spoons. Can you imagine? Going to Target to buy grapefruit spoons...”
They followed her over to the lettuce and celery. Then to the meat section, where she agonized over the bacon. The store had stopped carrying her favorite brand.
Hope’s arms were still crossed. “Imagineyoulost weight,” she said in a fierce whisper, “and your sisters cutyouoff.”
“I can’t imagine losing weight,” Cherry whispered back.
“Don’t be such an asshole, Cherry.”
Their mom dropped a package of bacon into the cart. She needed ground beef next. And Claussen pickles. Flour. Canned olives. Bottled spaghetti sauce.
Hope was fuming.
