Chapter 20
On Tuesday, Jonah offered to collect the groceries because Summer had come home carrying two bags of things the bakery needed and nothing they could eat for dinner.
He said it while she was still taking her coat off, as if he had only just thought of it.
In fact he had been considering the trip since breakfast, testing the idea of going into a shop where nobody expected to see him and nobody would ask whether he was feeling better.
“There’s a list on the counter,” she said. Her glance moved toward the car keys. “I can come when I’ve put these away.”
“I can get groceries.” He heard the edge in his voice and disliked it. “You’ve been out all day.”
Summer set her bag on the counter hard enough to rattle something inside. “I was offering company. I haven’t seen you all day.”
He nearly said yes. They could go together; she’d put things in the basket, find what he’d forgotten, smile at the cashier while he packed. He wanted to get home with the bags and tell her it had been fine.
“I’ll only be half an hour,” he said. He kissed her before she could answer, too quickly, then went to find a jacket he hadn’t worn to the hospital. She called after him to take the bags by the door, and the ordinary reminder steadied him more than the kiss had.
The drive was easy. He took a longer route around the center, telling himself he was avoiding roadworks, and didn’t question it until he was halfway through the store. Then he forgot what the detour had been for and had to look at the list to remember what came after milk.
He picked up a loaf that wasn’t on the list and which they didn’t need. The basket looked better with something in it.
Near the refrigerated shelves, someone touched his shoulder. His body moved before he recognized Ben from work, and the basket struck the corner of the display with a noise loud enough to make two other people look around.
“Sorry,” the man said. He lifted his hand away at once. “Didn’t mean to make you jump.”
“It’s fine.” Jonah could feel his heartbeat in his throat. He looked down at the basket, where the bread had tipped sideways. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
Ben said he had heard he’d been ill. Jonah said he was doing some work from home, hoping Ben would leave it there. Instead Ben began talking about the kitchen they’d priced in September, and Jonah couldn’t find a way to leave without making it obvious he wanted to.
“They’re changing the kitchen again,” he said. He shifted his own basket to the other arm. “You’ll be thrilled. Now they want the wall out after all.”
Jonah tried to remember the kitchen. He could see a doorway, a woman pointing toward a window, the corner of a drawing beneath his hand; the numbers that should have belonged to them wouldn’t come. The man went on talking, and Jonah nodded in places that seemed likely to be right.
By the time he escaped to the next aisle, his shirt was damp beneath the coat. There was no one near him now. He stood looking at rows of cereal boxes while his hand shook against the basket handle, furious that a colleague making conversation had reduced him to this.
His phone vibrated. Summer wanted to know whether he’d taken the list or left it beneath the bags she’d brought home. He looked at the message until the screen darkened, then turned it on again.
I’ve got it, he wrote. He erased the words before sending them. Can you call me?
She called almost immediately. He had to walk toward an empty corner before he could answer, although she was the one person who already knew why his voice might sound wrong.
“What’s happened?” she asked. He heard her moving, the small sound of something put down hard. “Where are you?”
“Nothing’s happened.” He leaned against the wall beside a stack of bottled water. “I’m in the shop. I just—can you talk for a minute?”
“Yes.” Her movement stopped. “I’ve put the kettle on. I was going to make tea before you got back, but there isn’t any milk. Which you’ll know, since you’ve gone to get it.”
She was talking too quickly. Jonah shut his eyes and listened to the kettle begin heating, the same noise he’d hear if he were standing in the kitchen with her.
“I’ve got the milk,” he said. He looked into the basket to be sure. “And the wrong bread.”
“Don’t worry about the bread.” She paused. “I don’t care about it. Unless you’ve bought the one with raisins.”
He gave a short, shaky laugh. A woman came around the corner with a cart and glanced at him, then away. Summer was telling him about a cake board that had arrived bent and Macy’s attempt to straighten it beneath the flour sacks.
After a few minutes he could move. He stayed on the phone through the next aisle, then told her he needed to pay. She said she’d be there when he got home, and he answered that he knew.
At the checkout, the cashier asked whether he had a loyalty card. He found it on the second attempt. Nothing about her face suggested she had noticed, and he managed to pack the bags without dropping anything or asking for help.
Summer was in the kitchen when he came in. She reached for a bag, and he gave her the heavier one. His coat caught on the chair when he tried to take it off; he pulled it free and left it hanging crookedly.
“I saw someone from work,” he said. He kept his eyes on the shopping. “He touched my shoulder. I didn’t see him coming.”
Summer came closer, then stopped. Jonah put an arm around her and buried his face in her hair.
“He didn’t know,” Jonah said. “He was just saying hello.”
Summer held him with both arms. “You’re boiling. Was it hot in there?”
He stayed against her until he could let go. Then he began unpacking: milk, bread, a jar of something neither of them used, two packets of pasta because he’d forgotten picking up the first. Summer put one in the cupboard without commenting.
“There was a call,” she said after a while. She was looking at the list. “From the bakery’s landlord. I need to send something tonight.”
He looked at her. “What something?” he asked. “Is there a problem?”
“Just the rent.” She reached for a bag he had already emptied. “With everything going on, I forgot. I moved some money. It’s fine.”
Jonah put down the milk. She’d said the same thing about the missed payments in June after the miscarriage. He’d found the reminder beneath a sympathy card.
“How much?” he asked. His voice came out flatter than he intended. “Summer, how much did this week cost you?”
She looked at the floor, then at him. “I don’t know yet,” she said. “There were canceled orders. I still had to pay Macy. It’s not a disaster.”
“I didn’t say it was.” He waited while she folded the empty bag. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you can’t stand in a grocery store without—” She stopped so abruptly that he could hear the refrigerator motor in the silence afterward. Her face had gone pale.
He looked away. For a moment he couldn’t decide whether he wanted her to finish or wanted to leave the room before she found a kinder way to say it.
“I didn’t mean that,” she said. She put the bag down. “I mean, I did, but not how it sounded. You have enough.”
“I could have paid the rent,” he said. “I could have made one phone call and paid it. You didn’t need to do all this without telling me.”
“It’s the bakery’s rent,” Summer said. “It’s my bill. I wouldn’t have let them throw me out before I mentioned it.”
He leaned against the counter. Summer stood beside the chair with her arms folded, and he could still smell the grocery store on his damp coat.
“You buy groceries, I pay a bill,” Summer said. “That’s all it was. I wasn’t sitting here deciding which things you were allowed to do.”
“I went out for bread,” Jonah said. “You had to talk me through buying it.” He couldn’t look at her as he said it.
Summer’s arms loosened, but she didn’t come toward him. Jonah left his hands on the counter, waiting for her to say something. She’d heard him shaking on the phone. He wished he’d called someone else.
“You were helping,” Summer said. She pulled a chair out and sat heavily.
Jonah put the milk in the refrigerator and shut the door. The jar he’d bought stood among the empty bags, its label turned away; he couldn’t remember picking it up. He went to the table and sat beside her.
“Show me the bill,” he said. “I’ve got work paying me overtime. We might as well use it.”
She brought the papers. They disagreed about which account to use, argued briefly over an expense Jonah had forgotten, and settled it when Summer found the payment in the banking app.
There was money to cover the lost week. She moved part of her household contribution from savings, and he covered the difference until the Christmas deposits came in.
They wrote down the amounts and dates before putting the papers away.
Afterward Summer returned to the groceries. He tried to help and got in her way, so he took the empty bags to the hall and folded them badly into the one hanging from the hook.
“Leave the light on,” Summer called as he reached for the hall switch. “I’ve still got things out here.”
He left it on and went back to the kitchen. Summer was putting the pasta away; he opened the cupboard above her, then shut it when he couldn’t remember what he’d meant to get.
They ate late. He told her the pickled onions had been a mistake, and she said she’d gathered that from the way he’d left them in the middle of the table. Neither opened the jar.
On Thursday, Jonah went to the office for the drawings he’d been trying to read on a laptop. He had arranged to arrive after the morning meeting, and he was ten minutes early. In the parking lot he watched the clock change, decided he was being absurd, and took his keys out of the ignition.