The couch had so many colors weaved into it that it just looked gray. It cratered inward beneath her thighs and molded to her back. In front of her sat a tray table with an ashtray surrounded by bullets of charcoal-colored ash that had missed their mark. An episode of General Hospital was blaring from the television.

“How’s it going?” Therese tried discreetly removing a pile of magazines from the only other seat in the room.

“Shhhhhhhh!” Barbara hissed. “This is the good part. That bitch Bobbie Spencer is switching test tubes so she can win Scotty back from Laura. She’s going to trap him into being with her by pretending to get knocked up. What a whore.”

Therese blinked, her face starting to ache from her forced smile. It wavered for just a moment, but she recovered quickly. She folded her hands in her lap and waited for a commercial. She started to speak again, hoping that Barbara wasn’t as invested in children singing about how much they’d like to buy the world a Coke. “How are you doing with groceries?”

The large lump on the couch shrugged and pointed a perfectly painted red fingernail toward the refrigerator. Therese stood, made her way back to the kitchen, and opened the fridge. Inside were white Tupperware containers labeled with masking tape—meatloaf, tomato soup, and fried chicken all in Tim’s writing. Food he had prepared for her for the week that had now gone bad. Nausea affected her mostly in her ears, and even though she felt dizzy and unsteady, she managed to throw everything out.

“What are you doing?” Barbara howled from across the room. Where she was seated, she had a clear view of the kitchen and Therese. “That’s the food my Timmy made for me!”

“I’ll go to the store now. What do you want?”

“I don’t know. Timmy does the shopping. He knows what I like.”

“I’m going to visit him today. Want to come?”

“I don’t like hospitals. You find out when my Timmy will be coming home. And don’t stay too long. I don’t want you tiring him out.”

Barbara turned back to the television. As Therese walked to the door, she took another look around and saw that the house had lovely arches separating the rooms and large windows that were covered with sheets. The floors were wood and with a good scrub they would return to their original honey color. The house had potential, the only problem being the very large obstacle bolted to the couch.