“Dad, why didn’t we just stay with Ava and mom? What are we looking for?” asked Lawrence, glancing at a rack of wet t-shirt DVDs with a mixture of disgust and curiosity. He could recall the hungry way she had eyed an ad for a chrome four-slot toaster with the double browning feature, neck outstretched and bottom lip curled like a hunting dog. Green is out of the question…”ĭoug hadn’t seen Louise watch primetime commercials with such fervor since before they were married. “Isn’t that something for you girls to decide?”Īfter a moment of consideration, he’d said, “Well, I guess it’s not a very, uh, normal color for a girl’s birthday, is it?” “Oh, I don’t know,” he laughed, his mouth full of buttered bacon. What do you make of that?” she’d asked one morning, a big permanent marker in one hand and a bottle of low-fat creamer in the other. “Ava said she prefers tangerine invitations and napkins. Every morning it was coffee and catalogs, coffee and catalogs. She’d woken up at six in the morning two weeks straight. He was happy to see Louise so excited, so full of energy. He dragged Lawrence off to an old electronics store at the west end of the mall, leaving Louise and Ava hovering over a stale cinnamon roll and a medium diet soda in the food court. Published online with Obelus Journal, 2020ĭoug patiently waited over forty minutes for them to make up their minds.
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