Page 86 of The Seemingly Impossible Love Life of Amanda Dean

“I’ll leave you two girls to it.” Their teacher walked away.

Mandy’s cheeks got hot. It was a really bad rainbow. “I can start over—”

“No!” Marisa’s voice got loud. “It’s perfect. How did you make the paint do that?”

Mandy glanced at her painting and back to Marisa. “You like it?”

“I think it’s the most beautiful painting I’ve ever seen. It looks like a real rainbow.”

Mandy’s chest swelled.

“You are a very talented artist,” Marisa said.

“I can show you,” Mandy said and held out a clean brush.

Marisa grabbed the apron hanging off the empty easel, tied it on, and took the brush from Mandy. “You can call me Isa if you want.”

“Are you almost ready?” Isa stuck her head into Mandy’s painting room, bringing her back to her current art project.

“Yeah, just let me clean up real quick.”

No one ever mentioned howmuch of one’s adult life was spent at the grocery store. And there weren’t usually many different grocery stores, it was usually just one. The same one that was closest to home, even if it didn’t have exactly everything you needed, and there was a much better store just a few miles farther away, but that seemed too far most of the time. Okay, all of the time. So week after week, you’ve done the same thing, and walked up and down the same aisle, picking out the same items. There was nothing particularly spectacular or glamorous about the grocery store. It was just a necessity.

The only nice thing about being in the grocery store that day was that Isa was there with Mandy. Ever since Isa had opened up her own practice, Mandy hardly got to see her. But it wouldn’t be like that forever. Once it was established, and all the kinks worked out, it meant Isa would have more time. It meant Isa could set her own terms and treat her patients the way she wanted. No more answering to a misogynistic boss who thought he knew better. It meant Isa wouldn’t be as stressed, which, in turn, meant less stress for Mandy too.

As soon as Isa had gotten back from Mexico, they moved in together. A two-bedroom not far from the hospital Isa had been working at or from Mandy’s job at the marketing firm. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it suited them fine, with just enough room for Mandy’s parents and Sandy to come for dinner every now and then.

Later that evening would be one of those occasions—hence the need to go to the grocery store to pick up a few things.

Isa pushed the cart while Mandy picked items off the shelves from here and there. It was nice not having to be the one to maneuver that thing, even if the store was less crowded than Mandy’s usual shopping day. Without fail Mandy always seemed to get the cart with the broken wheel—were they all broken? So instead of turning, she’d have to slide it over and pivot it whichever way she wanted to go. But by some miracle, Isa found what had to be the only cart in the store with four working wheels, and effortlessly steered the thing from place to place. There had to be a way to mark it so Mandy could find it next time she came back on her own.

“You know, this would be easier if you brought the list,” Isa said as she stood next to Mandy and studied the cereal options.Mandy had slowly been working her way through them, from one end of the aisle to the other. Today she selected something called Peeps cereal—it had marshmallows and probably more sugar than a can of soda, but at least if her morning coffee didn’t wake her up, the sugar rush would. Isa, on the other hand, liked her usual box of Honey Nut Chex—which was right there on the bottom row, but Mandy liked making Isa search for it.

“I have the list. Right here.” Mandy tapped her temple. That was another reason she likely had to go to the store so often. The list she kept on the refrigerator—the one that conveniently hadShopping Listscrawled at the top in bold, black letters—somehow never seemed to end up in her purse when she went to the store, which inevitably led to her forgetting something and having to make multiple trips.

“Well, it’s a good thing I brought this.” Isa reached into the pocket of her oversized sweatpants and pulled the slip of paper out. For the last few weeks Isa had been wearing them everywhere when they went out. She said they were comfortable, and Mandy couldn’t argue with that. And while they were a far cry from Isa’s “work uniform”—slacks, a blouse, and usually some kind of small heel—Mandy also could admit that Isa looked adorable in them. But Isa looked adorable in everything.

“Why do you have to be so reasonable?” Mandy shook her head at Isa.

“For the same reason you’re not.” Isa leaned in and kissed Mandy.

While Isa was gone, they’d spent every moment on the phone, and then upon her return, it just made sense to try again. But to be fair, there wasn’t much trying involved. Mandy and Isaalways fit together. She was still the cheese to Mandy’s macaroni. Not that things were always perfect. They weren’t. And sometimes they fought. Like when Isa would forget to text if she was running late. Or when Mandy would leave painted fingerprints on the soap dispenser in the kitchen. And there was the inevitable argument from time to time about what to eat, but there was nothing they couldn’t get over. They always worked things out.

“I don’t understand why we can’t just make spaghetti,” Mandy said as she plucked lasagna noodles from the shelf.

“Because we always make spaghetti.” Isa studied the label on a jar of sauce. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“You do know you’re going to be eating this too. So if we mess it up—”

“If we mess it up, we’ll run down the street and get tacos from Miquel.”

Another good thing about their apartment was it introduced them to Miquel’s Taco Cart—arguably the best tacos in Southern California. There was no doubt they reminded both Isa and Mandy of Abuela.

“Or we can get tacos to begin with. Or just make spaghetti,” Mandy said.

Isa gave Mandy a look that said,You’re being ridiculousandI love you so much, as she placed three different sauces into the cart. “Now for the garlic bread.”

Mandy led the way to the bakery, where once again Isa had to consider all their options before choosing a French loaf and asking the bakery attendant to slice it in half for them. If Mandy had gone to the store herself, it would have taken a quarter the amount of time, but as annoyed as she was about the debatebetween French baguette or sourdough loaf, she liked being there with Isa. Today she wasn’t just another woman alone at the store, she was a part of something more.

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