Elizabeth Edelglass


A short story

Ryan proposed on Valentine’s Day, 2009, arriving home with his lunch pail and one red rose, the twins jumping and giggling and clapping. Did the girls attach some significance to one red rose? Had he been watching reality TV with them on those nights when Jane was at the high school trying to teach color theory and abstract interpretation to folks who wouldn’t paint a rose without first counting every petal? Even with Ryan’s income from his plumbing business, his pickup truck now parked in her driveway, Jane couldn’t quit working, at the very least to remind herself that he wasn’t her husband, wasn’t the girls’ father, she was still responsible. But if his idea of watching them while she taught adult-ed evening classes was to turn on The Bachelor (or was it The Bachelorette?), then she might not, in fact, be very responsible in the choosing-a-new-father department.

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