olâ chocolate cake when her first goldfish, Finger, died. She let Molly eat it without a fork, frosting first, until there was more chocolate on Molly than ever was on the cake. As Mollyâs eyes fixated on fries, a grilled cheese, and a black-and-white shake, she knew the tradition would not be broken as her appetite returned with vengeance. There would be no grief diet for Molly.
Liam was really good at feeding Molly whenever she felt blue. He had this knack for sensing her moods and knowing exactly what would draw her out. Whether it was a box of Kraft macaroni and cheese or imported foie gras from this little market in Beverly Hills, he knew just how to indulge her. Once Liam learned of her sugar cereal deprivation as a small child (only Kix and Cheerios were allowed), he came home from the market with twenty boxes and two gallons of milk.
âWhat are you doing?â Molly exclaimed when she saw the buffet laid out on their dining room table. âYou are a nut!â
âWell, my girlfriend here has never known the true pleasure of slurping up Alpha-Bits or Lucky Charms.â Shaking the assorted boxes. âOne cannot go through life without experiencing the insane sugar rush that they provide.â
âThereâs enough cereal here to feed a small nation. How much am I supposed to eat?â
âAll of it.â Liam grinned as he walked to the fridge and pulled out the first gallon of milk. âThatâs the plan.â
âA bite of each, right?â Pulling out the wooden chair and sitting down.
âNo, no, no, my dear. You must have a bowl. That is the only way to experience it fully. The Day-Glo sugar stained milk is the best part.â Pulling out his chair. âI will join you of course.â
âOkay.â Taking a deep breath. âThis is going to be a long night. Where shall I start, chef?â
âMy personal favorite circa 1979ish. Cookie Crisp.â He poured her a bowl. âNote the crunchy cookie. It stays relatively crisp.â
âHow poetic.â Molly laughed.
Before she dug in she raised her spoon. âA toast.â
Liam raised his spoon. âTo?â
âYou, for taking care of me later and holding my hair when I puke from all this milk.â
âCheers!â Liam planted a big kiss on Mollyâs lips. âI will always hold your hair.â
Molly licked her lips and blinked. Before her lay the plastic menu and a steaming cup of coffee. With a shaky hand, she poured the milk and stirred in the sugar. How long would it take for her to be able to exist only in the present instead of somewhere in her memory, especially if the memories felt more real, more vivid, more vital, than the reality before her?
âYouâre back,â Rose stated.
âBack?â Molly, clearing her throat.
âYou seemed a little lost, and I didnât want to interrupt. You okay?â
âNot really, but I am starving.â Looking back down at the menu. âI would like a grilled cheese with cheddar, fries extra crispy with a side of ranch, and a shake. Hummm, chocolate.â
âWill do, honey.â Writing down her order. âYou take care of yourself.â
âThanks.â
Molly opened her bag and pulled out a small mirror. She dipped the edge of her napkin in her water glass and wiped around her eyes, trying to get rid of the last layer of the mascara. She really needed a shower. Last nightâs glitter was looking like a disco queen limping into the eighties. Molly opened the paper and searched for the crossword puzzle. Something to keep her mind occupied and reading the front pageâs tragedies were not going to soothe her mood. Before she could fish for a pen and begin, her dinner arrived. Molly looked at the greasy feast and dove in, headfirst. The melted cheese and ice cream expanded in her mouth, swirled on her tongue, and coated her insides with a thick layer of fatty consolation. Soft and
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