Unexpected Cheddar

“I’m on a supply run,” Eve explained, seeing Janet’s look. “My mom is having a meniscus repair on Tuesday. I’m stocking her freezer so she doesn’t try to cook.”

“Oh,” Janet said. The domesticity of it—the knee surgery, the bulk potatoes—hit her hard. It was a glimpse into a life that had nothing to do with school bells or lesson plans. “Is she… will she be okay?”

“She’ll be miserable,” Eve said dryly. “She’s Portuguese. If she’s not feeding someone or weeding something, she thinks she’s dying.”

Janet laughed. It was a rusty sound. “My grandmother was the same. We had to hide the vacuum cleaner when she broke her hip.”

Eve smiled, and for a second, the fluorescent glare of the dairy aisle softened. “I bought her three boxes of Jo-Jo’s. It’s a bribe.”

“That’s a lot of food,” Janet said, looking at the cart again.

“I overcompensate,” Eve admitted. She leaned against the handle of her cart. “I worry about her, so I buy vegetables. It’s my primary love language. Tubers.”

It was a joke, but Janet felt the weight of it. I buy vegetables. It was care. It was labour. It was a woman who showed up.

“Mom! Look!”

Connor’s voice cut through the aisle.

They turned. Connor was standing ten feet away, holding a paper cup and a half-eaten cracker. His face was lit up like a Christmas tree.

“It’s Ms. Rodrigues!” he yelled, spraying cracker crumbs.

He didn’t see the tension. He didn’t see the history or the line in the sand or the rain-soaked parking lot. He just saw his two favourite people standing next to the yogurt.