Page 95 - My FlipBook

T R A I L O F C R U M B S

at this time.” He cleared his throat. “Have a good day.”
Click.
She searched for something hopeful, supportive, to say.
Something to say it was okay. The have a good day a final
kick in the crotch. She had nothing.
Ash looked at her. “Tomato or chicken noodle?” he asked.
“We had tomato yesterday. Chicken noodle.” She didn’t
want oversalted canned soup though. She wanted a steak,

medium rare, and a baked potato with bacon bits and sour
cream. She wanted a salad full of green things not found in
her fridge, with a dressing not from a Kraft bottle. Cheesecake
with melted chocolate sauce, the kind that felt heavy in her
belly and that she would regret just a little.
And she wanted to disappear into her room so she didn’t
have to try. Let herself plummet over the edge of the world.

But it wouldn’t be fair to Ash, leaving him to plummet alone.
“Want to watch Quiz Kings?” she asked. It was a trivia show
for old people that Patty had got them all hooked on, and it
seemed to run about five times a day.
They sat on the couch with their knees pulled up, slouching
toward the middle, where the broken springs sagged. Greta
turned on the tv, right in the middle of a commercial for
men’s underwear, all abs and bulges. She closed her eyes
and counted to twenty, trying to stave off the feeling of dirty

panic. She couldn’t handle it—not right now. Ash is here. I’m
okay. Ash is here. I’m okay. Ash got up to relight the oven,
taking the edge off the room, and brought in mugs of soup.
The next commercial came on, this one for breakfast cereal.

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