Do you remember that summer we decided to eat only bread? Or I decided bread, and you broccoli.
We were so sniffly and under-vitamined, holed up in that New York high-rise (it was some sort of accident—your agent booked it by mistake and had agreed in advance to pay), swept up into a season of fancy I-do-mixed-media artists and even fancier drinks.
For health we decided to introduce different foods, as toppings, so it wouldn’t be breaking our respective one food rules. I started with butter for bread and you with grated parmesan for broccoli. Then we expanded together: broccoli with cheese and butter, bread with butter and cheese. Our first real success was an olive oil bread-or-broccoli-topping that contained fine-chopped garlic and shallots, raw. Raw garlic and onion were good against colds people said.
Fine-chopping, mashing, spreading and drizzling, we greased our way through the malnourished slur of monochrome consumption. June, July, August. Martini olives that never got eaten. Little black dresses. Rhinestones like almonds—which was all anybody else was eating.
I loved the way you would wink at me and say to the man holding the hors d’oeuvres tray, no thank you, I only eat… but he always walked away before you could say, broccoli.
Arianna Sullivan's work has previously appeared in The Laurel Review, The Santa Fe Literary Review and Glyph Magazine, amongst others. Originally from Santa Fe, New Mexico, Arianna lives and writes in Berlin, Germany.
Some were surprised that the show, which never captured more than a one percent viewer share, lasted as long as it did. The Haworth twins looked nothing alike; then there was Joan Didion’s Esquire piece ravaging Carol Haworth’s parenting style and the Connecticut student who noticed the window in McKelvey’s (19th century) stable, home of Wesley McKelvey’s mare Firecloud, revealed the top of a Burger King sign.
We ate and made useless chat. The Best was bland that day. All I could taste was the vinegar. Katie had cut her hair short. Truthfully, she looked beautiful. I made the conscious decision not to look at her socks. After the sandwiches were eaten things got quiet.
Then Dad started to miss birthdays and funerals and anniversaries. When our cat, Sasha, and our turtle, Jamba Juice, died, Mom dug up the graves. My brother and I prayed for Sasha and Jamba Juice. Dad was still inside, playing video games.
My Aunt Sharon gave me a whole shelf-worth of conduct guides when I turned ten. She didn’t call them that, of course. And unlike Victorian conduct guides, none of them said my ovaries would shrivel if I read too much (although, my ovaries did eventually shrivel, or more accurately, they exploded, but that was years down the road yet. At 13 my ovaries were still intact, as far as I knew).
“I’d like to take a look at that book.” He wraps his hand around the nape of her neck, and they lock unblinking eyes like children in a staring contest. When she is the first to look away, Ted says, “Why don’t I give you a ride home.”
Emily acted as guide, her arm around Nathan’s, until they sat opposite each other. Her eyes scanned the menu lazily, already knowing she would get the flauta plate and as many free margaritas as they’d serve her. Nathan’s eyes flickered up to her face then back down to his phone, fingers never ceasing the algorithm-perpetuated doom scroll.
In addition to being a lovely person, my sister also possesses a great memory, meaning the slightest hint of something you might drop in discussion can turn up in a lovely gift at any time. Staring down at the gleaming rendition of Abe Lincoln I remembered how the last time we spoke I told her about how I was getting into coin collecting after reading an article about this one particular printing of penny that had just sold at an auction for an exorbitant price. This one didn’t have the defect that made that one so valuable, but it was rare nonetheless.
I put my pants on like everyone else: throwing my pants in the air mid-handstand the pastor preached to his congregation. Edward Fortyhands with the monkey’s paw the congregation preached back.
Sarah enters the castle. Carmen takes over and helps her get acclimated. Come to find out, she’s missing from the Center for Wayward Girls. Family died in a fire. A troubled kid bounced around in foster care homes.
What should I do? I know she met the judge. I mentioned him. She couldn’t stop shaking.
I arrive 15 minutes early because that is what the flier says to do. The address has brought me down an alleyway between a church and a nail salon. It’s dark and wet. A car pulls up and a man gets out. He is tall and has pecs that push through his t-shirt. He asks me if I’m here for the fitness class. I hold up the flier. He says his name is Derek and tells me to follow him.