Not Perfect(7)

Tabitha just stared at her. Last year at this time she would have marched into Di Bruno Bros. and gathered all of that and more, charging whatever it cost—$100? $150?—to her credit card without a thought, telling herself it was a donation to the school. Now it felt like Julie was asking her to go to the moon and collect some moon rocks to bring back in time for lunch tomorrow.

“I’m so sorry—” she said, just as Julie spotted another potential target.

“Judy!” Julie called, even though Tabitha was in midsentence. Can Judy gather the cheese plate? Tabitha wondered.

“Thanks,” Julie said back to Tabitha, as she walked over to Judy. Tabitha listened while she asked Judy if she could provide breakfast for the teachers during conferences next month, “Preferably something homemade.”

Tabitha wandered back toward Fern. She knew almost every single adult she passed. Both Fern and Levi had been going to Larchwood since preschool, and that gave Tabitha great comfort. Of course, no one at the school had any idea what was going on. Would it be so bad to ask for help? She even turned slightly toward Esther, the warm third-grade teacher. Esther would never judge, she would help. If she knew what Tabitha was dealing with, Esther would probably buy her a dozen everything bagels and invite them over for a meal. She would offer them a big pot of beans and rice and tell Tabitha to take the rest home. It would likely be enough to feed them for days. But then Stuart’s letter resurfaced in her mind and Tabitha walked away.

“Hey, Fernie Bernie, you ready to go?” Tabitha asked. Fern was sitting with Sarina, their backs against the side of the brick building. Sarina was still wearing her birthday crown, but it was wrinkled and ripped, and she looked tired. “Hi Sarina, happy birthday!”

“Thank you,” the little girl said politely.

“Just five more minutes, Mom, please.”

Tabitha smiled and pulled out her phone. She walked to the far corner of the yard and called Rachel.

“We’re definitely in for the tasting tonight,” Tabitha said when she answered. “So we should come hungry?”

“Yes, come very hungry.”

“Okay, good,” she said. “And I have a strange question. What happens to all the food that is past the sell-by date and you have to pull from the shelf? Cheese and stuff? Hummus?”

“Generally we put it in the staff room for the taking,” she said, somewhat suspiciously, Tabitha thought. “Most of it’s still totally fine to eat. Why do you ask?”

For the hundredth time since Stuart left, Tabitha thought about telling her the truth. It would be so much easier. She opened her mouth as if she might say something like, Do you have a minute? Or, Can I tell you something? But she didn’t. She just couldn’t.

“Fern is studying supermarket safety—how they date stuff, how they sometimes even redate items to give them more time on the shelf, how they determine how long it will be good,” Tabitha said, cringing as she continued to lie to her best friend. “So I thought it would be interesting to see, maybe she could take a few things with her tonight that she can bring in tomorrow? Her teacher seems especially interested in food that is still good to eat but deemed not good enough to sell.”

“Sure—there’s a fridge with all that stuff, but I have to warn you, some of it has probably been there for too long. I’m the one who’s supposed to clean it out. Hey, maybe Fern can help me later. Maybe she can bring some of the really moldy stuff in tomorrow. The kids will love to see it! It can turn some surprising colors!”

“Okay, sure, and maybe some not moldy stuff?”

“Tabitha, what is going on with you? I mean really, what is the deal?”

“What? Nothing. It’s just this annoying assignment,” Tabitha said, feeling a burn behind her eyes. She could hear Fern and Sarina laughing behind her. Thank goodness for Sarina.

“Okay, okay,” Rachel said, backing off. “Be here by five forty-five. You don’t want to miss the best dishes.”

“We’ll be there,” Tabitha said, wondering what she could say to Fern to explain the fridge cleanout. “In fact, maybe we’ll be early.”





CHAPTER THREE

Tabitha woke up exactly seven minutes before the alarm was set to go off, just as she had done every day since Stuart left—well, really, just as she always did whenever Stuart wasn’t at home. She had that brief moment when she realized Stuart wasn’t there, had not come back in the middle of the night as he sometimes did from his long trips. Though, she had to admit, after almost two months, that moment was less and less surprising. She sat up, opened the drawer next to her, and pulled out another list. All her stupid lists. She blamed her mother for it. She always used to tell Tabitha that when she was stressed she should write it down and forget about it. Well, she could do the writing-it-down part, the forgetting about it wasn’t so easy. And what would her mother have said about the constantly-referring-to-it part?

This wasn’t a list of all the things she had stolen; it was a list of clues. Or at least a list of information. She hadn’t started it right away. Those first few days she had been so shocked: shocked that Stuart had lied, letting her think he would still be there in the morning to continue the conversation . . . or, rather, the argument. She told the kids he was on a business trip, which he often was, and she waited. He would be back, she was sure of it. He wouldn’t dare not be.