Rhoda's husband, Don, says maybe he should put out an ad seeking a partner better suited to life in the end of days.

This is after he comes home with a trunk full of dry beans and rice, and Rhoda says she would wither and die on a diet of dry beans and rice. "What about butter? And flour and sugar and eggs? If I'm going to hunker down and hide, I need pastries. I need coffee and wine. Otherwise, what's the incentive to staying alive?" And after Don says, "The incentive is survival. Also, what if the power goes out? That butter will become rancid. The oven will be useless." And after Rhoda says, "But what if the power doesn't go out and we suffer needlessly?" And after Don gives her an exasperated look and says, "There's no baking in doomsday prepping."

Rhoda's problem, according to Don, is she's governed by appetite, and appetite is fickle. She's unpredictable even to herself. They'll go out to their favorite Italian restaurant because Rhoda wants ravioli, but once there, she'll deliberate for fifteen minutes over the veal marsala, the chicken saltimbocca, and whatever special the waiter describes with what Don considers to be overly precious words.

As Don stacks the dry beans and rice next to his other stores—hefty bags of oats, a vat of peanut butter, stacked boxes of saltine crackers—he says to Rhoda, "You want too much."

Rhoda considers all that Don wants.

She envisions Don scrutinizing prospective end-of-days partners' resumes for inconsistencies. "Says here you're detail-oriented, yet the next line is missing a period and 'responsible' is spelled with an 'a.'"

She pictures him sitting across from these women and gauging how matter-of-factly they look him in the eye when answering his questions, whether they fidget their hands, tug at the waists of their jeans to tuck in bits of belly that would otherwise poof out like pillows from clumsily-made beds.

He will be looking for someone without impulses to restrain or hide.

But also, someone who would be good at hiding when the world comes to that, as Don believes it will. Someone who can keep still and keep her mouth shut whole days. Someone whose desires are discreet. Someone easily satisfied. Or maybe: someone for whom satisfaction is not necessary, for whom survival is enough.

Rhoda imagines his first interview question will be "Cake or pie?" If the candidate says cake or pie, she's out. Because the right answer is neither. The right answer is sugar has no nutritional value. The right answer is sweetness is nonessential. 

But Rhoda thinks the look on Don's face as he talks about what he still needs to purchase for their pantry and what he needs in a partner in these times resembles that of a child anticipating the tinkling music of an ice-cream truck. One who doesn't speak the language of doomsday prep might think "frugality" and "practicality" and "going without" mean "compote" and "cream" and "toasted meringue."

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Detail of art on main page by Philip Bond.





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