Sometimes they go grocery shopping together. Maybe that’s what housemates do. She hasn’t had a housemate since 1993. It feels a lot like when she shopped with her husband. When they first started dating they’d drive all the way to the North Side of Chicago to Trader Joe’s, get stuff to make dinner together. There was always lots of hugging up and down the aisles. There was hugging in Trader Joe’s until the end. Maybe there was something to see there, that shopping for food together had always meant something to him, the idea that they would make meals together. They did make some meals together now and again. Would have been nice if they had always kept making meals together, why didn’t they always make meals together? At some point there were fewer meals made together. She should probably blame herself for that. Not for not cooking. Just for letting that go. Yes. She should surely blame herself for that.
There’s hugging in Westside Market too, different guy, her old bud, but now with more questions because they don’t know what everyone likes or doesn’t like, and more meal planning because one of them is actually going to cook, then more hugging. Is hugging in grocery stores a thing? This is a question, not a complaint.
Should we get some chicken cutlets?
Let’s do.
Do you like spicy spaghetti sauce or mild?
Mild. Always mild, she says. She waits for a judgment that doesn’t come.
Okay, mild. What kind of cheese do you like for grilled cheese?
Any kind of cheese.
I like mild cheddar.
Then we get mild cheddar, she says.
What about soup, should we have some soup with it?
I love soup and grilled cheese.
How about tomato basil?
Yes, tomato basil.
He pulls some pancake mix off the shelf.
Would you eat pancakes?
If you make them? Um, yeah.
Okay then we also have to get some real maple syrup.
I think you’re my platonic life partner now, she says.
PLP! he says. You’re down with PLP?
Yeah you know me, she says.
Remember onion dip?
Sure, do you want me to make some onion dip?
You know how to make onion dip?
Um, everyone knows how to make onion dip?
I don’t know how to make onion dip!
Okay, I’ll make onion dip.
Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?
It’s two things that you put together, she says, and we already have one of them at home.
If you’re sure, wow, that would be so great!
They’re in the store for a while. She always goes with a list. She is learning that her bud likes to consider all options on the fly. She is learning that he will stand in front of the ice cream freezer alone for ten minutes, considering mood and discussing nuances of flavors, which can be very entertaining, but she is also learning that there is a point at which he needs a gentle nudge toward the door.
At home she starts to show him how to make onion dip for when they’re not living together anymore. I don’t want to think about that right now, he says.
Onion dip, or us not living together anymore?
Both, he says, digging into the chips and dip. Man, whoever doesn’t know what a great catch you are is a fool.
Because I make onion dip?
Yes, because you make onion dip.
And once again she doesn’t understand anything.
She may have taken this mundane grocery store scene past the point she’s trying to make with it, which is both that it is mundane, and that she’s doing it with someone who isn’t her husband.