once I’m standing right in front of the bright yellow boxes, it’s the last thing I want. Not when every time I reach for the box, I can hear Karl lecturing me on the importance of fiber—and how much I need him to make sure I eat well—as he pours the little round Os into his favorite black-like-his-heart cereal bowl.
You know what? Fuck fiber.
I drop my empty coffee cup into the cart and grab a family-size box of Crunch Berries in one hand and a box of Froot Loops in the other, throwing them into my cart with wild abandon. Karl doesn’t get to tell me what to do anymore. And he sure as hell doesn’t get to tell me what to eat.
I toss in a box of Cookie Crisp for good measure and then start to make my way toward the trash bag aisle. But just as I’m rounding the corner, a woman with wild red hair squeals my name.
“Mallory? Holy s-h-i-t! Is it really you?”
She looks vaguely familiar, and as I struggle to figure out how I know her, the toddler she’s holding reaches up and yanks on one of her huge hoop earrings. The woman responds with a sound that is half squawk and half yodel as she stops dead and tries to pry his hand off her earring.
And just like that, I place her. Angela Mancini, cheer captain, senior class secretary, and the girl who could shred an air-guitar solo as if she had hopes of winning a college scholarship for it. She was always brash and loud but overall pretty sweet—which is why I step forward and ask, “Can I do something to help?”
“It’s okay. I think I’ve got it,” she answers as she finally manages to pry her kid’s hand off the gold hoop before he rips it straight through her ear. “It’s my own fault. I know better than to wear earrings like this around Joey, but Manny gave them to me for my birthday yesterday, and I couldn’t resist.”
It takes me a second to realize she’s talking about Manuel Perez, her high school boyfriend and—I glance down at her ring finger and find a small but sparkly diamond ring and wedding band—apparently current husband.
She gives me a dazzling smile with even more sparkle than her ring. “It’s been a long time, Mallory! How the h-e-l-l are you?”
“Um, I’m good, thanks.” It’s a lie, but what else am I supposed to say to a relative stranger in the middle of the Stop & Shop? “How are you?”
“Oh, you know. We moved to Sutton about five years ago.” She waves an airy hand. “Between Joey and the others, I can barely keep my head above water most days. But honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“The others?” I ask tentatively.
“Joey has four brothers,” she tells me proudly. “Jimmy, Johnny, Jordy, and Jeremy. They’re a handful.”
“I can only imagine.” I goggle at her. “You look—”
“Exhausted?” she interrupts with a laugh.
“I was thinking really good for having five boys under the age of…?”
“Ten.” She waves a dismissive hand. “You have no idea.”
“I really don’t.” Especially since Karl kept putting off my every attempt to have a family, always telling me to wait a little longer, that it wasn’t the right time, that the business needed all our attention.
The women I knew in the city—wives of Karl’s business associates—told me not to worry, that all men feel like that until they establish themselves financially. But as I eye little Joey Perez gazing up at his mom with adoring eyes, it hits home that it was just one more lie I let myself believe to keep the peace. One more argument I lost without even putting up a fight. Doormat? Yeah, that was me.
The thought makes my skin crawl. More, it makes me want to run and hide before Angela and the rest of the world realize just how weak I let myself become—so weak that buying a box of Froot Loops feels like a massive rebellion. Fuck me. Tears prick at my eyeballs, and I take a step back, put on my sunglasses, and start to make some excuse about having to go. But before I can come up with anything, Angela grins at me. “What are you doing in Sutton? Your parents still living in Brunswick?”
“Oh, um, yeah, they’re still there, but, umm, actually, I’m living here now.” I stumble a little over the unfamiliar words. “My aunt died a few months ago, and I