Page 16 of Apple of My Eye
‘Unfortunately, anything that is even remotely tangential to my parents’ sex life is my cue,’ I laugh, standing to leave.
‘Read it, Eloise!’ Peggy reminds me as I go. ‘A romance for the ages!’
‘More likesmutfor the ages,’ Kathleen corrects.
I head into the kitchen to put my dish away with their laughter still bouncing off the walls. I’ve creaked open the dishwasher when I hear Kathleen catch her breath and add, ‘I dare say the main character reminded me of the new guy in town.’
I freeze.
‘I agree!’ Peggy says happily. ‘I saw him at the butcher, andman. He is a tall drink of water. Those arms!’
I am as still as a statue, one arm extended halfway into the dishwasher, not wanting to make any noise.
‘And that hair. He is so handsome,’ Marcia says emphatically.
‘You’ve seen him too?’ asks a voice I can’t place.
‘Well .?.?. no .?.?. but everyone keeps saying he is!’
The room explodes into laughter again and I hurry to put my dish away. I turn back towards the living room, wondering if asking about the new guy is worth being teased. Lord knows these women ask about my dating life enough as it is. But before I can decide what to do, Mom walks into the kitchen. She starts when she sees me, clearly expecting me to have gone by now.
‘Hanging in there, sweetheart?’ she asks.
I nod. My lower lip starts to tremble. All day long I’ve swung between feeling fiercely determined to make this work, make this fall our best harvest yet, and feeling scared about the future.
Mom’s friends get louder, one of them hollering a question at her. ‘Sorry—’ she smiles, playfully rolling her eyes ‘—you know how they get.’ But before she leaves, she wraps me in a quick hug. ‘We’ll figure it out,’ she whispers.
There’s a grocery list on the counter when I come downstairs the next morning.
APPLES
Leeks
Milk
Yogurt
Honey
Oats
Linguine
Canned Tomatoes
I laugh out loud at the list and pour myself a cup of coffee. Apples on the list is a sign that Mom’s in a good mood. She always says buying our competitors apples is for ‘market research,’ but without fail she ends up taking a big bite of each one, theatrically going on and on about how she thinks it looks ‘really good’ and it ‘might be better than ours’ before spitting out a chunk with such vitriol you would think I had doused it in rat poison. Sometimes the apple pieces get halfway across the kitchen, landing in mess of spit and mush on the floor. But my dad laughs every time she does the bit, sometimes so hard tears stream down his cheeks.
So, I keep buying the apples, and she keeps doing the bit.
By sending me for groceries, she’s giving me an excuse to get off the farm, which I will happily take. I take my coffee to go, heading out the back door to find my dad. I hear him before I see him, the whine of the tractor blocking out all other noise. He shuts off the engine, wasting no time shout-explaining that he needs me in the afternoon—we start pruning today.
I trudge back to the house and pull on jeans and an old apple-farm celebration T-shirt, one of about a hundred that live in my dresser, and head out, adding a few things to the grocery list before I leave. I might as well make the trip last as long as possible.
I remember to bring reusable bags only to realize I forgot to grab my sneakers while I was upstairs. But then I spy a pair of Mom’s apple-red Converse by the door and throw those on instead. I peel out of the driveway and head into town, about a twenty-minute drive. I breathe a sigh of relief as I exit the driveway.
I’ve always enjoyed driving through Carnation. The roads are two-laned and dusty, the town is only about five stoplights long, and there are rolling hills throughout. I often feel like we’re stuck in the 1950s, but I don’t mind it.
I coast to a stop in the parking lot of Hal’s General Store and hop out. I check the clock, plenty of time to grab a latte from the café across the street after I shop. Amie’s at the checkout when I walk through the doors. She waves, her red hair catching the sunlight. She started working at Hal’s after we graduated and seems to relish her position as the town’s reigning gossip queen. When I was home in the winter she caught me up on all the happenings while I’d been away. As long as Amie’s working the checkout, I’ll never have to attend a high-school reunion.
