Becky dumped the sour milk, but it wasn’t hers to dump. Allison didn’t learn about the dumped milk until after Becky left and Allison was holding a cup of coffee blacker than Allison desired. Kate woke up hearing Allison curse — “fuck the milk where is it?” — and rolled over in bed even though she felt like helping Allison. Becky, by that time, was at work — an office at their school. Allison still couldn’t find the milk, so she texted Allison, “MIK WHERE IS IT? -b.” Becky wouldn’t have known what that meant even if she had her phone on her desk (her supervisor once told her she was crack addicted to her phone and Becky felt guilty as charged.) Allison expected Becky to text her back, so she leaned against the counter in the kitchen and drank her black coffee. Kate had a woozy dream about being taken on a ride in a carriage to a cow that smiled about milk (“s’all right human drink’m drink’m”) and suddenly woke up and yelled, “Find the milk!?” Allison ignored Kate and texted Becky, “U do somthing with it?” Becky’s phone wasn’t even vibrating in her bag (even though she had the phone set to vibrate), which was back over by the long file cabinet on the right of her and behind. Kate came out of her bedroom and searched the refrigerator for milk for Allison. Allison asked Kate if she knew if Becky had her phone with her. Kate, squatting almost inside the refrigerator, craned and angled her face toward Allison and said, “Want me to get some milk?” Allison drank the rest of her coffee very quickly and burned the roof of her mouth. Kate put on jeans and a sweater and sneakers and grabbed her meal card while Allison went to the bathroom and opened her jaw like Pac-Man to observe the decimated palate she had created.
