“I suppose someone has to get these
things,” his mother told him. “Statistically
speaking, I mean. My turn just came up.”
Unsure of whether or not she meant this as
a joke, Jonah answered, “I guess.”
“So the way I see it, I’ve spared someone
else the trouble. And that’s a very nice
thing of me to do. Don’t you think?”
Jonah just stood there, helpless.
“But you know, you shouldn’t be sad,” she went
on, now flipping through the coupon section.
“Because someday this will all just be a memory. And how you remember it will last much longer
than what happened. So remember it in
the way that will make you happiest.”
“Okay,” Jonah answered. “I’m going to go make a cup of coffee.”
“You do that, dear. Don’t let your father near the coffeemaker—it
blows up every time he touches it.” His
mother picked up a pair of scissors and cut out a coupon for laundry
detergent. “Now that’s a good price,” he
heard her murmuring to herself. In the
kitchen he was staring at the jar of coffee when his father came
in. “What’s going on?” he asked
Jonah, “Want some coffee? I’ll make it.”
“That’s all right,” Jonah said, and unscrewed the lid.
“That’s all right,” Jonah said, and unscrewed the lid.
