Free Mother by Tamara Thorne, Alistair Cross

Tim had a girlfriend who had moved to Brimstone, Arizona, and he had joined her soon after. Then he’d had an accident and Prissy had brought him home to Snapdragon where she could help him recover. At least that’s what he’d gleaned out of Claire’s not-so-nice telling of the tale. Surely, he’d intended to get well and go back to Brimstone, back to his girlfriend. So why did he kill himself? As far as Claire knew, Tim hadn’t suffered from any kind of depression, though he had developed a drinking problem. Maybe that’s what did it.  
    Jason wondered what became of the girlfriend in Brimstone. Maybe, if he hit it off with his new boss, Paul would tell him. The whole thing was just so tragic. When Jason himself was twenty, he’d felt like he had the world on a string. Anything was possible. His entire life had sprawled ahead of him, waiting for him to live it. He simply couldn’t imagine what would drive someone so young to end his own life. Tragic. And tragic for Claire. She loved her big brother so much.

Algebraic Prowess
    Jason placed a can of corn in the shopping cart.
    “Oh,” said Prissy. “I gave you plenty of corn and other veggies. I put them in the cupboard next to the sink.”
    Jason felt his face heat up.  
    “It’s all expired, Mother,” said Claire.
    “Of course it is, dear. These things are good far beyond the dates they put on the labels. We mustn’t be wasteful.” Prissy touched the beaded hair necklace between her pointed breasts. She wore a pastel blue pantsuit dressy enough for a business meeting and matching blue and white pumps. Her hair and makeup were flawless, as if she’d just stepped out of a beauty parlor, and Opium hovered around her like a chemical fog. All this, for a grocery store? The pumps bothered him the most. He was with Claire on foot comfort and couldn’t imagine why any woman would wear heels to the market.  
    Claire’s jaw flexed. “I’m not going to eat corn that expired before I was even married. And even if the spinach and beets were still fresh, you know I don’t eat those things. I never did.” She added a smile. “Not even Popeye could talk me into canned spinach, don’t you recall?”
    Prissy stared at her daughter, then smiled. “Of course. I didn’t realize they’d been expired so long and that probably wouldn’t be good for the baby.” Her gaze flicked to Claire’s stomach. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m so sorry, Claire.”
    Relief swept over Jason as the women’s eyes unlocked. A treaty had been struck.
    “Just let me check this,” said Prissy, snapping a can of corn off the shelf like a lizard going for a fly. She turned it over, studying the label as she punched numbers into a clunky calculator she’d pulled from her handbag. Satisfied with the equation, she reached for a different brand of corn, punched in more numbers, then did the same with a third. And a fourth. “Just as I suspected,” she said, arching her brow.
    “What’s that?” asked Jason, leaning on the shopping cart.  
    “Well, this one has more ounces than the other three, but the price of this one,” she flourished the third can, “is actually lower. While it may have the lowest price, it also has the lowest ounces. So this one,” she said, holding up the second can, “is actually less expensive, because while it’s priced a little higher, the ounces exceed those of the other three cans.” She beamed at him and Jason blinked, unable to imagine going to this much trouble.
    He pointed at the price tag on the shelf. “It has the price per ounce right here, Prissy. You don’t need to bother with a calculator.”
    “You can’t trust the store itself to be honest. You never know what they’ll try to pull. They rely on misplaced trust, Jason, sweetheart. Capitalism relies on it.” Prissy placed the can in the cart and waved a hand. “I know. It’s a little more time-consuming this way, but I always get the best bargain possible … and we must keep a