Pineapple Street by Jenny Jackson EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: Jenny Jackson
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Genre: Sisters Fiction
- Price: Free
- File Size: 2 MB
- Publish Date: March 7, 2023
Sasha
There was a room in Sasha’s house that was a portal to another
dimension, and that dimension was 1997. Here, Sasha discovered an
egg-shaped iMac computer with a blue plastic shell, a ski jacket with
a stack of hardened paper lift tags still affixed to the zipper, a wrinkled pile
of airline boarding passes, and a one-hitter with an old yellow lighter hidden
in the back of a drawer. Every time Sasha mentioned to her husband that
she’d love to put her sister-in-law’s high school ephemera in a box, he rolled
his eyes and told her to be patient. “She’ll get her stuff when she has time.”
But Sasha had her doubts, and it was weird living in a home where one
bedroom was entirely closed off, like a preserved shrine to a lost child.
On good days, Sasha could acknowledge how incredibly lucky she was to
live in her house. It was a four-story Brooklyn limestone, a massive, formal
palace that could have held ten of the one-bedroom apartments Sasha had
lived in before. But on bad days, Sasha felt she was living in a time capsule,
the home her husband had grown up in and never left, filled with his
memories, his childhood stories, but mostly his family’s shit.
—
When Sasha and Cord had been in the house for three weeks, Sasha
invited her in-laws to dinner. “I’ll make mushroom tarts and a goat
cheese salad,” she said in the email. She spent all morning rolling pie dough
and even walked to the fancy market on Montague for pomegranate seeds to
sprinkle over baby lettuces. She vacuumed the dining room, dusted the
bookshelves, and put a Sancerre in the fridge. When her in-laws arrived, they
had three L.L.Bean canvas bags in tow. “Oh, you didn’t have to bring
anything!” Sasha exclaimed, dismayed.
“Sasha,” her mother-in-law trilled, opening the closet to hang her Chanel
bouclé jacket. “We can’t wait to hear all about your honeymoon.” She carried
the bags into the kitchen and proceeded to pull out a bottle of white
Burgundy, two flower arrangements in low vases, a tablecloth with fleurs-delis on it, and three scalloped Williams Sonoma baking dishes with lids. She
lined them up on the counter and, like a woman at home in her kitchen of
forty years, opened up the cabinet to take down a glass for her wine.
“I’ve made mushroom tarts,” Sasha tried, suddenly feeling like the lady
at the Costco free sample table, trying to sell warm cubes of processed
cheese.
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