This was the first time since the funeral that Palmer had returned to the house. Standing in the kitchen with her mother, while she piled through plastic container of food after plastic container of food from the fridge to the counter, Palmer couldn't help but feel good about being here. Life at school had felt rough these last few weeks, and she was happy to be around her mom again.

"Where the hell did all this food come from?" Palmer asked as she sipped her tea.

"Neighbors, friends, accquaintances. These people come out of the woodwork when someone dies and bestow a litany of meals upon you. I was thinking of just reheating a lot of it and having a sort of open table of food we could pick at all night," Regina said, plopping yet another container on the counter.

"Okay," Palmer said, shrugging, "that sounds like a good idea."

"You okay honey?"

"I'm alright. Yeah. I've been jogging with a friend at school lately, and that's been a nice change of pace," Palmer said, "how about you and Dodie?"

"She's been...reclusive. I don't know. I've been writing things down in a journal at night and that seems to help, but Dodie doesn't seem to want to talk or have anything to do with me," Regina said, "I just...I wish I could reach her the way your father could. I don't know why they had such a close relationship, but I wish I could get to that same point."

"It's gonna take some time, but I'm sure she'll come around," Palmer said as she sat at the table and watched her mother open each tupperware.

"Maybe," Regina said, "...this looks atrocious. If you can't cook, at least have the decency to give me take out for god sakes. My husband just died. Haven't I suffered enough?"

Palmer laughed, almost spitting her drink out, which made her mom smile. Palmer had always found her mother funny, but ever since her father had died, she'd found her mother even funnier, almost like she'd been holding back in his presence or something. Whatever the case was, Palmer was enjoying it.

                                                                            ***

Dodie and Nona were sitting on the swings at the local park, with Nona's parents sitting nearby, both reading a magazine together as the girls played.

"You've never had a sleepover?" Nona asked, "I mean...I guess I haven't either, but still. I could come spend the night at your house! We could watch movies and play games and stuff."

"I don't know, I don't know if my mom wants people around right now," Dodie said, swinging gently, "but she is trying to get rid of all the food people gave us at the wake, so maybe she would appreciate having someone else there to help eat it."

"Is it good food?"

"I don't know," Dodie said.

"Why did people give you food?" Nona asked.

"I...don't know," Dodie said, furrowing her brow, now confused.

Why had people given them food, and in such mass quantities? Oh well, made things easier on her mom. Regina hadn't had to cook an actual dinner for weeks. They either ordered food somewhere or ate leftovers from what was brought to the wake.

"I don't think tonight is a good night, but maybe tomorrow night? At your house?" Dodie asked, and Nona smiled.

"Okay!"

The girls continued to swing in silence as the cool fall air breezed by them. Now all Dodie could think about was the mountains and mountains and food that had been brought and left in their kitchen. Why did people bring so much food? It didn't make any sense to her. And why did her mother feel so obligated to use it all? Not all of it was even that good.

Maybe she'd ask her at dinner.

                                                                              ***

"What even is this?" Palmer asked, opening a lid ever so slightly and then making a hideous face at the repellent smell that seeped out of the container as she gently pushed it away from her across the table.

"I think they thought it was lemon chicken," Regina said, making Palmer chuckle again.

"I'm not a very religious person," Palmer said, "but that thing is an outright sin."

Regina laughed and sat down at the table with Palmer. She opened up a container and she sounded relieved upon seeing what appeared to be spaghetti inside. No way to screw that up, she figured. So she took a fork and start eating. The front door opened, and Dodie waddled inside, unzipping her jacket as she waved goodbye out the door to Nona in her parents car. Dodie seated herself at the table with her mother and sister and looked at the container of lemon chicken.

"What is this?" she asked, pulling it towards her, lifting the lid.

"Don't open it," Palmer said.

"Oh my god," Dodie mumbled as she made the same disgusted face and pushed the container away once again.

"I told you," Palmer said, the girls laughing.

"Mom, why did people give us so much food?" Dodie asked.

"Well, they see it as making my life easier. They bring food because they think it'll help. I've just lost my husband, you girls just lost your father. The last thing anyone wants to do is cook, right? They feel like this eases our lives somewhat. But...it really doesn't. If anything it just complicates things, because now I have half a pile of tupperware full of disgusting home cooked garbage that I can't eat, but feel too guilty to throw away. The only thing that would make things easier would..."

Regina paused for a moment, clearly trying not to cry in front of her daughters. Palmer and Dodie glanced at one another, concerned.

"The only thing that would make things easier would be to have your father back," Regina finished, "to have things just be like they were. But that isn't life. Life is messy and awful and terribly sad. But at least you girls are here. Not just to give me emotional support, but also to help me eat all this crap."

Palmer and Dodie cracked up, and then dug in.

                                                                           ***

"What is this?" Anita asked as she slid the container from the fridge in the dorm and opened the corner of the lid, then made a face and shoved it back into the fridge.

"I wanna say it's a science experiment, but I'm also leaning towards an act against God," Palmer said, making Anita laugh as she wiped the stench away from her face.

"Girl, you ain't kiddin'," she said as she walked over to the table and sat down with her.

Palmer offered to take some of the food off her mothers hands by taking it back to the dorm with her. This way it wouldn't go to waste, and she'd have meals to eat each day. Anita pushed her bangs from her eyes and looked at Palmer.

"So, I was gonna go out with some friends from another college tonight," Anita said, checking her nails as she chewed on them absent mindedly, "and I thought you might wanna come. We're gonna go to a really nice restaurant, plus one of the guys is someone I think you'd really like."

"That's nice of you, but I don't think so," Palmer said, "I think I'd prefer to eat what I brought back."

"Seriously?" Anita asked, "you'd rather eat The Dinner From The Black Lagoon than have a four star meal?"

"Yes," Palmer said, chuckling and nodding, "yes I would. I can't explain it but...it's like...ever since my dad died, I've been both trying to distance myself from him while getting as close to him as possible, if that makes sense? Eating this food, unholy as it may be, makes it feel like he's still here, kind of. It's hard to explain."

Anita nodded and patted her on the arm. She knew she didn't need to explain anything, and she knew Anita wouldn't ask any further. That was the thing she truly appreciated about their friendship, was how much the other one just understood. Anita got herself ready, said goodbye and headed out. While Palmer studied, she ate one of the containers - a chicken cheese dish - and kept studying until Arthur suddenly showed up to the dorm. He let himself in and sat down at the table, looking at the food.

"What in god's name are you eating?" he asked.

"Trust me, god's got nothin' to do with it," she replied, mouth half full.

                                                                              ***

Dodie was thrilled the following evening when she went to Nona's for a sleepover, and she wasn't forced to eat leftovers. Her parents made a meal together, featuring a roast and potatoes and broccoli, and it was the best thing Dodie had remembered eating in what felt like months. After dinner, the girls sat in the entertainment room under a pillow fort and ate ice cream sandwiches while watching The Little Mermaid.

"Your parents like to do things together," Dodie finally said quietly.

"Mhm," Nona replied, nodding, "they like doing things as a team."

"I don't think my mom and dad were ever like that," Dodie said, "I mean, they loved eachother, but...but I never saw them do anything together. Gardening, maybe, but that's it."

"...what's it like to not have a dad?" Nona asked, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't-"

"It's okay," Dodie said, "um...it's weird. I feel...less safe. Having a daddy made me feel safe, and now that he's not around, the world feels scarier. I know my mom takes good care of us, and she'd do anything to protect us, but...I really miss him."

"I would be so unhappy if my dad died," Nona whispered, looking at her remaining ice cream sandwich, "I'm sorry that happened to you."

"It's okay," Dodie said, "I mean...it's not okay, but you know. Thanks. Sorry I'm not very good at being friends with someone. I've never really had any besides my sister and my parents."

Nona smiled.

"Well, we'll get better at it together then!" she said.

Ice cream sandwiches, real friendship and no awful leftovers. What a good night this turned out to be.

                                                                             ***

Palmer and Arthur laid on the couch together, watching an old black and white movie on mute, while they ate out of the containers Palmer had brought back.

"This is not the devils work," Arthur said while chewing, "the devil may be evil but even he wouldn't do this to people."

"Heh," Palmer said, "well, if it helps, I gave you the worst possible one because I didn't want it myself."

"Glad to be of service. So what are you doing in on a weekend?" Arthur asked.

"I don't know," Palmer replied, shrugging, "Anita asked if I wanted to go out with her and some friends, she wanted to introduce me to some guy, but honestly I just...I don't really like socializing. I like things the way they are, just you and me, and sometimes her, and awful awful food."

"Maybe it's grief," Arthur said, "Sometimes when someone close to someone dies, the surviving person deals with grief by detaching themselves from everything else. Isolating. They're scared to lose anyone else, so they figure they'll just go through life on their own."

"But I'm not on my own, I have you two," Palmer said.

"Sure, but...Palmer we're in college and neither one of us is living like it," Arthur said, "What if I went with you? Do you just not wanna be paired up with some weird dude?"

"Mostly," Palmer said, "...I guess it'd be okay. We're about out of food here anyway now."

"Thank the lord for that," Arthur said under his breath, "Well, get your jacket on and let's go meet Anita and her friends. We need to start behaving like college kids. No more sitting around by ourselves anymore."

"I thought you liked sitting around with just me for company," Palmer said, sitting up as Arthur stood and started to pull on his jacket.

"I do, sure, but aren't you the least bit curious what it is other college kids do?" he asked.

"Not particularly," she replied, standing up and taking their containers to the kitchen, filling them with water and leaving them to soak in the sink; she leaned on the counter and sighed, "I appreciate it, Arthur, I really do, but I don't wanna be around anyone else right now. I like how things are. I'm not, I guess, happy or whatever, but...I'm as comfortable as one can be given my particular circumstances."

Arthur approached her as she started to sniffle and wipe her eyes on her sweater sleeve.

"...I'm here, I'll stay with you," he said, opening his arms as she fell into his chest, hugging eachother. Palmer was so appreciative of Arthur's friendship, and she rarely thanked him for it. She felt guilty. But she knew that, if the situation were reversed, she'd be there for him too. She knew she had friends she could depend on, and she knew Dodie had made a friend at school, but she felt bad for their mother...

...how did she handle being all alone after so many years of matrimony?

                                                                             ***

"I do feel sad," Regina said as she sat on her bed that night, wine glass in hand as she looked at photos of her husband, "I do, I'm not heartless, but I'm also grateful. We'd been growing apart, we both knew it, and neither one of us wanted to admit it. Something was going to have to change. I think we were sticking it out so Dodie could have a good home life, and we were still friends, but the romance was gone. He was someone else entirely."

The man sitting on the bed across from her ran his hands through his thick chocolate brown hair and sipped from his wine glass. He was at least ten years younger than her, and worked at the local grocery store.

"I'm glad you could come over, this is the first night I've been actually alone in years," Regina said.

"No problem," Adam said, "And I brought you some groceries, to replace all that atrocious garbage in your fridge. Those people should be ashamed of themselves."

"This isn't weird, right?" Regina asked, "I'm...I am so not used to this."

"Naw, it's not weird," Adam said, "I mean, the whole situation is a little weird, sure, but that's just because that's what death is like, it's weird and it makes things weird, but...hey...what you're doing, what we're doing, ain't weird."

Regina smiled as the candlelight danced across her face. She'd never considered being with anyone other than her husband, but she was thankful for a fresh start of sorts. She leaned in and kissed Adam, who happily kissed her back, as she pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, taking his wine glass and setting them both on the floor beside the bed.

"You sure you're cool with this?" he asked again.

"Yeah, I'm cool with it, you just can't be here when my daughter comes home tomorrow," she whispered, "now shut up."

And with that she put out the candlelight.