Clean Slate

by Harley Crowley

Chapter 18

  On the way home Carrie swung the car into a grocery parking lot.

  "Any ideas about dinner? We're running low on groceries."

  "What does my mother like that's easy?"

  "Roast beef. We don't serve it very often though, and there isn't time. We could pick up a roast chicken."

  In the grocery store they rolled a cart through the aisles, and Carrie picked a few things from the shelves.

  "Why don't you tell me if you see something that appeals to you and we'll see if it's something you've picked before." They were in the snack aisle. He was overwhelmed by the choices. He picked up a random box of crackers and held it out to her. She frowned and narrowed her eyes, checked the nutrition information.

  "Trans fat. We don't eat trans fat. Try again."

  "But have I bought those before?"

  "Not since we found out about trans fat."

  "So is this an experiment or is this an educational project?"

  "I don't know," she laughed. "It was just an idea."

  On a lower shelf he spotted a box that looked familiar, and checked the label. Whole wheat crackers, sesame, no trans fats either. He held it up to show Carrie.

  "Yep, we're out of them. That was a hit."

  From there he chose peanut butter, the natural stuff, with the oil floating above the solids. Carrie nodded again.

  They wheeled through the aisles, and once in a while his hand reached automatically for something. Sometimes it matched his choices in the past. Sometimes, like the jar of English mustard pickle, it looked interesting. Carrie looked at the growing basket of goods.

  "We'd better stop this before we get ourselves in debt. We don't know if you're still employed." That was a jolt. There might be a real financial blow in this dilemma. He might have to give up his Lexus, which he hadn't even seen yet. Apparently the non-recalling Brian wasn't as in love with the car as Carrie had implied the old Brian was.

  A girl stopped her cart in front of theirs, blocking their progress. "Hi Mrs. Edwards. Hey, is this your husband?" She said it with enthusiasm in her voice. She wore tight jeans and a bomber jacket open over an even tighter t-shirt, and a beret on top of long straight blond hair. She stuck out her chest and looked him up and down, as if she were considering buying him. Or making some other kind of offer.

  "Hello Kelli," Carrie said calmly. "Yes, it is." And to Brian she added, "Kelli is in my Composition I class."

  "He's cute," the girl announced to Carrie, as if he wasn't there. Then she added, "I'm not one of her best students." She tilted her head and looked up at him with a smirk from behind her eyelashes, as if to say big deal, right? As if it were some sort of accomplishment.

  "That's too bad. Maybe you could try harder." He didn't know where that came from, but this little vixen wasn't going to use him to challenge Carrie. Kelli quit with the aggressive breasts and said "Yeah, I guess so," and flipped her hair back as she maneuvered her cart around them. "Gotta go. See you in class Mrs. Edwards."

  Carrie was smothering a smile. "That happens all the time. I can't figure out what it is about you that's so appealing." He was pretty sure it was a joke.

  "You deflated her nicely, though." She chuckled in appreciation.

  When they got home they unloaded the groceries together, and since it was already 4:30, Carrie went to change clothes.

  Brian checked the messages on the kitchen phone. There were two from Lou, one he'd just missed, asking him to call as soon as he could, to tell him what the doctor said. He dialed the number from the business card again and got the office.

  "I saw the doctor. I go in for tests on Monday. Did you get what you needed in my office?"

  "We've moved into your office, buddy, and Jason has been at it all day, trying to get on top of it. Your fucked-up brain has put us in a real bind here."

  "I wish there was something I could do. Jason is who?"

  "Your assistant. We're still going to try to make the Tuesday meeting with Fitzhugh. We'll probably be working through the weekend. You sure you can't remember? What did the doctor say?"

  "She didn't find anything physical, but the tests Monday will find out more."

  "Well, Andrea is still in San Diego and flies back tomorrow. She's pretty grim."

  "I know, I got a message from her. I understand she hit me in the head a while back."

  "Oh, yeah. That was quite a deal. She said you got in her way. She had to drive you to the emergency room. You fucking bled all over her front seat. I guess you don't remember that either?"

  When Carrie came back to the kitchen she'd changed into a big, bulky sweater, over tights. She started trimming broccoli and making a salad.

  "I've been thinking about how to tell her," Carrie said. She scraped the vegetable waste into the trash container. "But I realized I don't have to worry about it. I think you will just know how to do it."

  He went to the living room to look again at the pictures of his mother in the album. The most recent one was the anniversary picture. He counted up. Twenty-five years of marriage, he couldn't have been over twenty-four. So it was ten years or more ago. In the photo she was smiling happily, and was turned towards his father, her hand on his lapel, as if she was petting him.