Expiration Date

“Shit! You didn’t go to the grocery store?” Hank was hissing, trying hard to keep his voice quiet. He pulled Francie’s arm, dragging her into the kitchen. He didn’t want his parents in the guest room across the hall to overhear. “I told you we needed milk!”

“I didn’t have time. I do have to work, you remember? Would you prefer that I be late for their arrival? That they sit outside the building and wait in their car?” Francie stared at Hank, her eyebrow raised, a smirk playing on her lips. The fluorescent lighting and the reflection from the avocado green cabinets made her face look sickly. “Besides,” she asked, “Why didn’t you go if it was so important?”

“I thought you were going! You should have called me!” Hank’s voice edged a few decibles louder.

“You should have told me it was so important!”

“Well, what do we do now?” Hank’s fists were clenched.

“Hank, I don’t understand why—“

“The milk expired four days ago!”

“What do you mean? It’s expired? I just used it for that potato recipe the other night…”

“The other night, Francie? The other night? That was last week! I can’t have my father putting expired milk on his cereal in the morning! You know he has cereal every morning.”

“Well, it’s too late to do anything about it tonight. One of us will just have to get up early in the morning and go get fresh milk before they wake up.” Francie smiled up at Hank.

“Francie. My father gets up early.”

“Well, he’s not going to eat without everyone else, is he?”

“He always eats as soon as he gets up. I shouldn’t have to always tell you this shit!”

“Alright. We’ll just go tonight. There. Problem solved.” Francie was using her cutesy- you’re-such-a-silly-willy for having this wittle pwoblem voice.

“Francie. Honestly. You are so fucking clueless sometimes. It’s fucking Christmas Eve. I don’t think there’s a store open anywhere in this country after seven on Christmas eve.”

“You don’t have to be an ass, Hank. I’m trying to help.” The smirk was gone from Francie’s face.

“It would have been helpful if you’d gone to the damn store like I fucking told you.”

Francie turned her back to Hank and rolled her eyes, speaking at the mustard yellow fridge. “Maybe the milk is fine. Four days isn’t much. They put those expiration dates on there just to be safe, you know.”

She pulled open the fridge door, bending at the waist. She looked back over her shoulder, hoping to catch Hank staring at her ass, but he was looking up at the ceiling, his mouth clamped. She sighed and grabbed the milk carton, glancing at the date. Sure enough, it read 12/20. She opened it and turned towards Hank at the same time. Deliberately, she stuck her nose deep into the carton’s mouth and inhaled. “Smells fine,” she said.

“Taste it then,” Hank said.

Francie paused, deciding whether she was really confident enough to taste the milk. “Fine,” she said. “Hand me a glass?”

Hank stepped toward the sink and grabbed a glass from the dish rack. Francie took it with an ironic smile and poured a millimeter’s worth of milk into it.

“Looks fine,” she said.

“Taste it.”

Francie raised the glass to her lips, keeping her eyes on Hank’s face. She sniffed one last time before opening her mouth and swallowing.

“It tastes… it tastes a little funny, maybe. I don’t know. I think it’s fine.”

“God damnit! It is not fine.”

“I’m just being paranoid. It tastes fine.” Francie took another sip, just to prove her point. It definitely tasted a little funny.

“I can tell from your face it isn’t fine,” Hank sneered. “You aren’t fooling me. You’re so fucking cheap! I can’t give my father rotten fucking milk! And don’t think I don’t know that if your parents were here, you’d have gotten new milk.”

“I’m not going to continue this conversation. This is ridiculous. Just tell your father that we ran out of milk. In fact, let me make it easier.” Francie pushed past Hank to the sink, dumping the open carton straight into the Dispos-All, leaving the carton there to drain. “There,” she said. “Problem solved."