Ruby
“OLIVIA HAD NOT eaten Spaghetti-Os since she was a kid. But here she sat at her kitchen table, eating the stuff cold, straight from the can. The Cumberland Farms down the street only sold things like beef jerky and ranch-flavored chips. And Spaghetti-Os. Olivia had gotten up early this morning and gone there for supplies while the girl slept upstairs, hot and tangled in the sheets, frowning. Olivia had watched her, willing her—uselessly—awake. Giving up, she’d gone for some food and come back with all the junk she could afford. “This is disgusting, Pal,” Olivia said to the empty room. Since her husband had died, she had started to talk to empty rooms. She had even started to hope for replies. She had started to make lists, to break things down to their simplest terms. Eating her Spaghetti-Os, waiting for Ruby to get up, she listed things she missed about being married to David. They loved to eat sugary cereal for dinner if they’d had a long day. They loved painting each other’s toenail...s, Siamese cats, square cars, Eames chairs, reading Rod McKuen poems out loud to each other.MoreLess
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