Page 21 of Glass Half Full
How could anyonenotstare? She makes the blue light shining down from theMarchésign above us look like a spotlight set up just for her. It tints her skin and paints her teeth in indigo. I watch it catch on the whites of her eyes, reflect on her pupils as they lock with mine.
The tinny sound of a pop song is rattling out of the store’s speakers, but for the next few seconds, I don’t hear anything—save for the rush of blood in my ears as her smile slips and her eyes get even bigger.
“Dylan?” I watch her lips move for a moment before my brain catches up and recognizes my name.
“Huh?”
“Potatoes, Dylan. We should go get the potatoes.”
I swear I can’t even remember what a potatoisuntil she turns to lead the way through the store’s entrance.
“Should we get a cart?” Renee asks. “A basket?”
“Uh...” I do my best to fire up my synapses. “A basket. We can’t take more than we can carry anyway.”
We each grab one of the black plastic baskets and head for the produce section. It’s a small store, more somewhere you go to grab last minute staples than do your big monthly shop.
“Um, Dylan?” Renee comes around from the other side of the display I’m standing beside. “I found the potatoes.”
“Okay, great. Let’s start grabbing them.”
She doesn’t move. She looks like she’s about to tell me my cat died.
Only I don’t have a cat.
“What is it?”
“It’s just...It looks like they have, um, four.”
I squint at her. “Four what?”
“Four...potatoes.”
In what feels like it must be slow motion, I round the corner of the display.
There’s the potato bin. There are the potatoes.
One, two, three, four.
“Renee, there are only four potatoes.”
“Um, yes.” She appears at my side, speaking with the hesitation of someone asking a psychopath to put the gun down nice and slow. “Yes, there are four.”
I snort. Then I chuckle. Then I’m howling.
“Four potatoes.” I have to put my basket down and brace my hands on my knees. “We came all this way for four fucking potatoes.”
“Wesprintedfor four fucking potatoes.”
Renee’s laughing nearly as hard as me now. Her basket hits the floor too, and she grips the edge of the bin with one hand while clutching her stomach.
“It’s not...even...that...funny,” she gasps.
“No, no it’s really not.” I shake my head and suck in a huge breath before holding it, trying to get myself under control.
Then we mistake of looking at each other, and the manic laughter starts all over again.
“Four!” It’s the only explanation I can offer to the man who pushes his cart up beside us and stares. “Only four of them!”
