For a Good Cry, Try Red Onion

 

    She stood in front of the avocados, testing each one, thinking about why he never told her he had lived in Rhode Island.  Not a single ripe one and she was supposed to making guacamole tonight.  Why would he keep that a secret?  Isn’t there some trick with a brown paper bag, or maybe a microwave to speed up the avocado ripening process?  Maybe he’s ashamed of something he was doing there?  Oh God, does he have another family?  Fuck it, she thought, and took the two least hard avocados.

    She could smell the jalapenos in front of her, they all looked so perfect, and a wave of anger flared under her nostrils.  Did she not deserve his full respect?  She snatched two jalapenos with the intention of making an unusually spicy dip.  Whatever else was being hidden was going to come out over dinner, she guaranteed herself.

    Still fuming, she found the cilantro and cursed every grocer that placed the cilantro next to the parsley.  Maybe he had good reason, he had never lied to her before.  That she knew of.  The display’s mist over the leafy greens cooled her fire.  Maybe she would make a salad too.  He needed some more vegetables in his diet.  She found a cilantro bunch, cold and wet, and placed them softly in the top of the cart.

    She realized, standing in front of the onions, that this was the reason why her brain had decided to make guacamole.  Red onions.  Better then any rom-com or cute animal video when a cry was needed.  He didn’t lie, he just hadn’t mentioned that he’d lived in Rhode Island, it’s wasn’t that big of a deal.  She held the onion in her hand and willed the dormant vapors to reach for her eyes.  It worked and everything went glassy.  She was just having a bad day.