Page 11 - My FlipBook

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Greta always thought of Patty as a person of gaps—gaps
between her teeth and her skinny thighs, gaps in logic. When
Patty laughed, it reminded Greta exactly of a barking seal.
But she wasn’t laughing now. She was lecturing Ash and Greta
on how much toilet paper they’d gone through in a week,

like they had single-handedly used it all themselves.
“I shouldn’t be buying this all the time,” Patty said, glaring
back and forth between them.
“Then stop using it yourself.” Ash shrugged, tapping his
fingers on the tabletop. “In some parts of the world, they just
use their hands.”
“Hey!” Patty shouted. “I don’t need your lip! Get a job and
start pulling your weight.”
“Maybe I will,” Ash said, pushing past her. “Then I can

move out.”
“Good idea!” she yelled through the empty doorway.
“Or why don’t you get a job,” Ash said, “so you can move
out instead.”

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