Alima finds herself slowly getting worked into Cloncarrig's routine, which has to be intentional. Louise from Ellen's Market says hello to her on the second Saturday she goes grocery shopping. She runs into Mal later, who says that discounts are on Thursdays in case Alima needs ten pounds of fruit or something.
"Why would I need ten pounds of fruit?" She drops a box of cereal into her cart.
"Parties, festivals, losing a bet," Mal ticks them off his fingers. "Oh, and if someone's pregnant. Owen's aunt Noreen ate hummus for two weeks. And I like hummus, but sometimes she just tucked in with a spoon, like yogurt. Ugh."
She shudders as they move to the canned-food aisle. "God, I thought the weird-craving stuff was only in movies."
"Eh, it's not a big step from eating hummus for two weeks to eating... I don't know, hummus-and-marmite sandwiches." He notes her looking up at the top shelf, then stops her from putting more than a foot on the bottom one. "No climbing! Here, what do you need?"
"Sorry, it's a habit. Can I see the..." She squints. "Looks like tomato sauce, but it might be something else."
He picks it up and checks, amused. "Well, you got the red part. Strawberry preserves."
"Ugh, never mind." She hunts around for other things.
"How tall are your parents?" Mal ventures.
"Mom was average--five and a half feet. Baba was six foot four."
"Huh." He considers himself at least a little above average-height, but six-foot-four is a very... wait. "Was?"
"Yes." She wheels her cart alongside him, and tries not to jostle his basket. “I mean, they’re not dead, just... we haven’t found them yet. And I’d obviously like my parents to be alive, but... I leave them offerings. Just in case.”
"Thanks for not telling me to stay hopeful,” she says in relief. “Or asking if anyone’s actually taken the offerings," she adds ruefully.
“What?! That’s rude!”
“They don’t mean to be.”
“I know, but...” He doesn’t know what to do, so he grabs a jar of purple-black jam. It’s blackberry, so he makes a note that Logan will hate it.
Alima keeps stealing glances at Mal, and he knows she wants to reach over for something that’s not amidst rows of cans and jars. But she doesn't, at least not for now.
Created: Apr 22, 2014Logophile Document Media