“It’s all very well filling your cupboards with cans,” Mabel
complained, “but they all look exactly the same when the labels come off.”
Mabel and Dorothy were standing in the kitchen contemplating
a table piled high with silver cans, all pulled from Mabel’s shelves after the
flood. The colorful paper descriptions of what had been inside were reduced to
mush and swept out with the last of the water, and Mabel, in her hurry to
rescue everything she could save from her pantry, had pushed the cans hither and
thither, so that now she was at a loss.
Dorothy picked one up and held it to her ear, shaking it
slightly. “Sounds like it could be peaches,” she said. “Or maybe peas.” She put
it down. “Or spaghetti.”
Mabel leaned against the counter and sighed. All the
advertising she’d seen in the woman’s magazines had made much of the indestructibility
of cans, and how they could bring endless variety to your diet. They were a
boon for women like her. She’d never been much of a cook, and relished the
chance to do away with the “bothersome preparation” that took up so much of her
time. She liked to think she was being modern.
“It’ll have to be mystery meals from now on,” she said. “Bob
won’t like it one bit.”
“How about we open a can and see?” suggested Dorothy. “I’m
famished after all that cleaning.”
“You pick,” said Mabel. “Pick something good. Pick something
tasty.”
Dorothy looked at the cans, stacked like a gleaming metal
sandcastle, and reached out for one on the second layer. She withdrew it
carefully, and replaced it with one from the top. “Here,” she said. “Please let
it be fruit salad.”
Mabel opened the can and tipped its contents out onto a
plate. It made a sucking sound. A cylindrical golden blob sat there, shapes
buried within its mysterious jelly. She leaned forward to sniff it. It wobbled
slightly. “Chicken,” she said.
The two women stood there and looked at it mournfully in the
waning light. What was there to say? Mabel pulled the two handles of the can
opener open and shut, open and shut, then placed it on the counter next to the
jellified poultry.
Dorothy pursed her lips and lifted her eyebrows. Time
passed. No words were necessary. They just knew.
