Chapter Seventy-Nine
Grocery Shopping
The country house. One week after making up. Saturday morning.
Lilith had never been to a grocery store.
For ten thousand years, food had appeared before her—brought by servants, grown in temple gardens, conjured by the hunger that sustained her. She had never pushed a cart. Never compared prices. Never stood in line behind a stranger buying milk and eggs and bread.
David had suggested it casually, over breakfast.
"We're out of almost everything," he said, looking into the refrigerator. "I was thinking we could go to the store together. You know. Like normal people."
"Normal people go to the store?"
"Yes. That's where they get food."
"I've never been to a store."
He turned to look at her.
"Never?"
"I've been in buildings where things were sold. But I never... shopped. I never had to."
"Well, today you do."
He kissed her forehead.
"Get dressed. We're going on an adventure."
---
The parking lot – Morning.
The grocery store was called Fresh Mart.
It was a large building with a glass front and a parking lot full of cars. Lilith stood in the parking lot, staring at the entrance.
"It's just a store," David said.
"It's enormous."
"It's average."
"There are so many people."
"It's Saturday morning. Everyone shops on Saturday morning."
"Why?"
"Because they need food."
"But they could just... have food. Without going to get it."
"Not everyone has servants, Lilith."
She looked at him.
"I know. I'm just... adjusting."
He took her hand.
"You'll be fine. Just follow my lead."
---
The entrance – The same time.
The doors slid open automatically.
Lilith stepped inside.
The lights were bright. The air was cold. The smell was overwhelming—produce and meat and bread and flowers and a thousand other things she could not name.
"This is... a lot," she said.
"We can start small. Produce section first."
"Produce section?"
"Where they keep the fruits and vegetables."
He led her to the left.
The produce section was a riot of color—red apples, green grapes, orange carrots, yellow lemons. Lilith stopped in front of a display of strawberries.
"What are these?"
"Strawberries. You've had strawberries."
"I've eaten strawberries. I've never seen them like this. In a pile. Waiting to be chosen."
"That's... one way to put it."
She picked one up.
It was small. Red. Perfect.
"May I taste it?"
"You have to pay for it first."
"How?"
"You put it in the cart. Then you take it to the front. Then you give the cashier money. Then it's yours."
"That's inefficient."
"That's civilization."
She put the strawberry in the cart.
---
The aisles – Later.
David pushed the cart.
Lilith walked beside him, her eyes wide, her hands reaching out to touch everything—cereal boxes, soup cans, bags of rice, jars of sauce.
"There's so much," she said.
"That's the point. Variety."
"But how do you choose?"
"You choose what you need. What you want. What you can afford."
"What if you want everything?"
"Then you go broke."
"That seems unfair."
"That's capitalism."
She laughed.
"You're very educational today."
"I try."
They turned down the next aisle.
Canned goods. Beans and tomatoes and corn and peaches. Lilith picked up a can of peaches.
"These are preserved," she said.
"Yes."
"Like Zerai."
David was quiet for a moment.
"That's... not the same."
"I know. But the word is the same. Preserved. Kept for later. Saved."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Just... remembering."
She put the can in the cart.
---
The dairy section – The same time.
Lilith stood in front of the milk.
Gallon after gallon after gallon. Whole milk, skim milk, almond milk, oat milk, soy milk.
"Why are there so many?" she asked.
"Different people like different things."
"But it's all milk."
"Not exactly. Some of it isn't even milk. It's made from plants."
"Plants that make milk?"
"Plants that make milk-like liquid."
She picked up a carton of oat milk.
Read the label.
"This contains... oats. Water. Salt."
"Yes."
"And people drink this?"
"Yes."
"Instead of real milk?"
"Some people. For health reasons. Or ethical reasons. Or because they like the taste."
"Humans are strange."
"Yes. We are."
She put the oat milk in the cart.
---
The meat section – Afternoon.
Lilith stopped in front of the butcher counter.
The meat was arranged in neat rows—chicken breasts, ground beef, pork chops, lamb chops, steaks. A man in a white apron stood behind the counter, wiping his hands on a towel.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
"What is this?" Lilith asked.
"The meat counter."
"No. I mean... what is this?" She pointed at a steak. "This was alive once. This was an animal. This had a heart and lungs and fear."
The butcher blinked.
"Uh... yes. That's correct."
"And you just... cut it up. And put it here. For people to buy."
"That's... how it works."
Lilith looked at David.
"I don't like this."
"We don't have to buy meat. We can get vegetables. Tofu. Oat milk."
"I want to leave."
"Okay."
He took her hand.
Led her away from the meat counter.
---
The parking lot – The same time.
They sat in the car.
The groceries were in the trunk. The engine was off. The world was quiet.
"How do you feel?" David asked.
"Strange."
"Strange how?"
"Strange because I've eaten meat for ten thousand years. I've consumed entire animals without thinking about it. But seeing it like that... cut up... packaged... dead..."
"It's different."
"Yes."
"Does it make you want to stop eating meat?"
"I don't know. Maybe. Probably. Yes."
"Then we'll stop. Together. We'll figure it out."
"You would do that? For me?"
"Yes. Because I love you. Because you're not a monster anymore. Because monsters don't care about the things they consume. And you care."
She kissed him.
The kiss was soft. Slow. Grateful.
"Thank you," she said.
"For what?"
"For taking me here. For showing me this. For not laughing at me when I didn't understand."
"You're welcome."
He started the car.
They drove home.
---
The kitchen – Evening.
They put the groceries away together.
Lilith organized the refrigerator. David stocked the pantry. They moved around each other like dancers who had learned the same choreography.
"I never thought I would say this," she said, "but I enjoyed that."
"Grocery shopping?"
"Yes. It was... human. Ordinary. Real."
"That's how most people live."
"I know. And I want to live like that too. With you."
"Then we will."
He kissed her.
"Now. What do you want for dinner?"
"Something without meat."
"Vegetable stir-fry?"
"What's a stir-fry?"
"It's when you cook vegetables in a hot pan with sauce."
"That sounds... delicious."
"It is."
He cooked.
She watched.
And Lilith—the former goddess, the former hunger, the former monster—sat on a stool in her kitchen, watching her husband cook dinner, and felt something she had never felt before.
Ordinary joy.
---
The dinner table – Night.
The stir-fry was perfect.
Vegetables. Sauce. Rice. No meat. No blood. No hunger.
"This is good," she said.
"I know."
"You're not supposed to say that."
"I cooked it. I can say whatever I want."
She laughed.
"I love you."
"I know."
"Say it back."
"I love you, Lilith. I love you. I love you. I love you."
"Again."
"I love you."
"Again."
She kissed him.
"I love you too."
They ate.
The food was warm. The kitchen was cozy. The world was ordinary.
And Lilith—the former goddess, the former hunger, the former monster—sat across from her husband, eating a meal they had made together, and felt something she had never felt before.
Home.
---
End of Chapter Seventy-Nine