So We Can Glow - Stories - Leesa Cross-Smith Page 0,59

think I want to focus on cheese,” he said.

One aisle over, the young man was waxing the floor with the noisy machine.

The light in her heart flickered on, the loneliness scattering to the corners. Yes! Sometimes love felt like this too—like grocery store coffee. Like cheese and a knife. Maybe. No, yes. Yes, they would most certainly get married in the produce section on a Wednesday night. Astrid, teary-eyed, in her after-ballet clothes, holding a misted bouquet of bok choy and curly kale and rainbow chard. And after Henry put the peach-pit ring on her finger, she would put a cold strawberry in his hand at the exact moment the produce sprinklers turned on. The grocery store manager would click on “Celebration” by Kool & The Gang. The young man would turn off the noisy machine so they could hear the music better. They’d name their baby boy Apricot. Their twin girls, Persimmon and Plum. But, first! Henry and Astrid would get a cake from the bakery and go home together, eat it in bed. Yes, love would sound like “Africa” by Toto, thumping and thumping. Lust was heady at first, but quickly turned bitter and left her thirstier. Ravenous. But, love! Love should feel like being full. Love should feel like, taste like—sweet white buttercream and coconut slathered and tightening all over her like paint, sweet white buttercream and coconut filling her mouth.

When It Gets Warm

Finding their way through all that winter clothing was as complicated as trying to land a plane in a hurry, Paul joked. Even the mention of flying made Beth anxious. She focused on getting out of her coat and buttons and buttons and zippers and clasps. Her wool sweater, long, soft-flannel sleeves. Once they got down to it, it was blue-ribbon married sex. As comforting as a whistling teapot, the smell of a hardware store. Cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning.

After, Paul went out for some real food. Their plan was to eat the sushi in their room, in secret. Clean and sneak the empty plastic boxes back home in their flowered luggage so the nice woman who owned the B&B wouldn’t be offended. Paul had gone to Whole Foods for spicy tuna and ebi, little packages of electric-green wasabi, slivers of tacky, pickled ginger.

Beth was alone in the room. She eyed Paul’s copy of From Russia with Love on the nightstand and picked it up, read a bit. Made sure to put the bookmark exactly where he’d left it. She looked through her suitcase, wondering if she’d packed a ribbon. The woman in the book was in bed wearing nothing but a black velvet ribbon around her neck. Maybe she could do that later. Paul loved surprises, especially ones that began or ended with her naked.

He’d been gone for an hour, when it should’ve taken fifteen minutes. The roads were no doubt freezing over. She called his phone, no answer. She threw on a cardigan and went downstairs, made small talk with Martha, the nice woman who owned the B&B. Martha offered her hot chocolate with marshmallows. Beth took it. Martha pointed toward the glossy magazines fanned in the middle of the coffee table, but Beth didn’t feel like reading. She was busy considering life without Paul.

Maybe he’d gotten into an accident, was somewhere dying in the snow, his last gasping breaths smoke-puffing out into the fucking depressing black nothingness of a January night. She checked her phone for the weather, saw it was five degrees. Five. She tried calling Paul again, no answer. Sent him two texts:

why is it taking you so long i’m worried about you

it’s so cold, i love you

Beth imagined their boys growing up without a father. How could she do this to them? Have them? Bring them into this awful world where their mother or father could die at any moment and leave them alone? The monster of a panic attack gripped her shoulders, opened its mouth to devour her.

She closed her eyes and prayed, begged God to calm her down. Relax, relax, she thought, matching her heartbeat-thumps. She drank her hot chocolate. Walked over to the front windows to look out. Nothing. Cars sleeping in the parking lot. Snow and ice.

Martha asked where her husband went. Beth lied and told her he’d gone out for juice.

“Oh, he shouldn’t have done that. We have plenty of juice here,” Martha said.

“We didn’t want to bother you,” Beth said, smiling as much as she could.

“Well, if you want anything else please