The List

Response to Prompt #19 Grocery List Flash Fiction

by Helen Sadler

Story started 10/14/14

Completed on 12/11/16 to match the prompt

The lavender bubble bath was just what Talia needed. Not once in her life had she ever felt as aggravated as she did today. Not once in her life had she ever connected with the phrase “Calgon take me away.”  Not until today.

Her thoughts swirled back to the moment she knew she could not work for that bitch Pamela Brady any longer. Why had it taken so long to see?

She had answered texts during her daughter Ella’s soccer games and birthday parties and swim meets – always some emergency.  She had worked incredibly long hours, and last year even cancelled her vacation at the last minute, losing her deposit at the resort.  Why?  Because she believed in the work.  Her boss needed her and made her feel needed.

But that was changing.

It was the incident this morning, and a pink post-it note, that set things in motion.

Ella had woke with her hair in a tangled mess from a combination of swimming and sleeping on wet hair, thus causing a knotted mess that needed attention – at exactly the wrong moment.  Pam was calling the cell constantly, asking why Talia wasn’t at the client meeting. Never mind that the time of the meeting had been moved up two hours, right amidst the time Talia is trying to get Ella out the door.  None of that mattered.

On the way to work, while stopped at lights, Talia had scribbled off a list of items she needed from the drug store: refill on her Prozac prescription, hair de-tangler so the event of this morning would not be repeated. Ibuprofen for her constant headache and unbearable monthly cramps.  Fibre-All to keep her barely functioning digestive system going.  Sensodyne for her teeth that often grind in the night.

But when work was done, and she got in the car and saw the post-it note list sitting on the front console of her Lexus, she knew she could never go back.  When was the last time she had shopped for anything besides her stress needs? When was the last time she brought fresh food in the house, and not just take-out? 

Talia crumpled up the pink post-it. She took out a pad a paper – a good size legal pad – and began making a new list: Fresh vegetables. Granola. Pineapple and watermelon and grapes. Eggs. Cheese. Tortillas. Lots of fish and meat. The list went on and on. Oh, and wasn’t there a Farmer’s Market at the local park tomorrow? It could be a start. Once the resignation email to Pam was sent. Maybe she would even take Ella – a girls’ day together to start a new life.

Talia closed her eyes and sunk into the luxury bath. Who is this woman questioning her existence? And if she walks away from the life she knows, the life that’s been a comfort, who will she become?

Somehow the questions were more important than answers. It all seemed so clear. She was ready to take the leap.

She had the list.

Celery

Response to Prompt # 19: Grocery List Flash Fiction

Celery
by Laurie J. Kemp

Fucking celery. That was all she could think to put on that striped strip of paper on the magnetic grocery list pad that hung on the refrigerator door. No one to cook for and too many extra pounds to shed since having her baby. Ten years ago. Now he was gone, and so was his father. Olivia felt so alone.

She pulled up to Publix and shuffled through her purse to find the list. She stared at it while she waited for "Pretty Woman" to finish playing on the radio. She always loved Roy Orbison. "Celery. I need a fucking shopping list for celery?" she said out loud. All those empty lines on the list stared back at her. If things had been different, her list might be filled with juice boxes and Oreos, maybe steak and veggies for salad and the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies. Instead, it was empty. Like her life.

Her eyes began to well up. It wasn't just celery on her list. The celery was a symbol, for tomato juice, hot sauce, and a shit ton of vodka. The celery was just a garnish, a symbol of how she drank away her life and all that was good in it. "At least I'm not guzzling it straight from bottle anymore," she quipped at the word on her list. Baby steps. Ah yes, baby steps. Just the word baby was enough to launch her into an all out sob. She fumbled around for a tissue, a napkin, anything to wipe the snot and the tears. When she finally gave up, she looked again at the list through her tears. Celery. She blew her nose in the striped strip of paper, crumbled it up, and tossed it out the window.

"Fuck celery!" she shouted, and she drove away without ever getting out of the car. Instead she drove down one more light to the plaza at the next intersection. She pulled up to the spot right in front and stared hopelessly into the window. The bright red neon sign flashed on and off calling to her, "LIQUOR. LIQUOR."