The Costco Grapefruit Cup Tragedy
Grace Genereux
We never use the front door to my house. Atop a flight of tedious steps, it is tucked secretly into a brick-lined nook at the side of my house. We use the back door instead, which ironically is closer to my actual driveway. The back door is enormous and heavy, composed of thick, long, gray, wooden planks. The wood expands during the summer due to humidity, making it especially hard to open the door; to combat this dilemma, I’ve developed a special maneuver. The door puts me to the test when I have my hands full, and today is one of those days. I have four Costco grocery bags weighing my hands down, turning the tips of my fingers purple from the lack of circulation. I’ve opened the back door despite coffee mugs in both hands, tennis rackets under my elbows, and a package between my knees. The door really shouldn’t be a problem today. However, I have precious cargo: my favorite Costco grapefruit cups. Plastic cups filled with grapefruit slices and grapefruit juice, these snacks are hydrating and sweet with a subtle tart kick. The grapefruit slices break apart easily, turning into a syrupy pulp in your mouth. When they are refrigerated to perfection, I swear the juice is like nectar from heaven. I approach the wretched back door alone, grip the handle, wincing at the grocery bags sliding down my fingers. Pressing down on the lever, I push the door away from me, swing my hips inward, plant my legs into the ground, and yank the handle as hard as I can. For a moment, everything seems fine. The door slowly swings open, and I catch a glimpse of the cool, airconditioned mudroom. The kitchen beckons me into the house to escape the heat and enjoy these delicious snacks. Suddenly, the grocery bags begin to stretch around my fingers, and the plastic slowly rips. The pressure due to the weight of the bags releases in my grasp. They fall to the ground, and the thin and delicate cups crack as they hit the cement. The fruit and juice splatters all across the stone walkway, spilling over the edges and trickling into the planters that line the house. My Birkenstocks are standing in a small puddle of pink juice, and there is a single slice of grapefruit lying in the footbed of each sandal. These snacks were supposed to be enjoyed inside the comfort of my own kitchen, but instead they are ruining some of my favorite shoes. As the 80 degree heat 18
