It was the Sunday after Thanksgiving. I was working at the salon as usual. I had just opened the doors for business.
I was coming up the hallway from the back. Morning sunlight is pouring through the huge windows in the front of the salon where the gym is located.
I see a petite silhouette standing at the front counter. I’m not wearing my glasses so I can’t see clearly the identity of this person. But as I get closer…
“Kita! You’re back! (Hugs) I didn’t think you’d be back until Monday!”
“Yea. My train was at 7am this morning!”
“Well I’m happy you’re back.”
She’s munching on an apple as we chit-chat about our collective holiday experiences. Hers seemed fun with her sister and the family, mine just hanging with friends. Then out of nowhere:
“So I texted Steve.”
Steve is the guy who was her rebound off former boyfriend JR. She hung out with him for a month or so. He never took her on a proper date. They just hung out at his place or she would just sit around and watch him work on his truck. She kissed him but no sex. (So that’s good)
(Sigh) “How’d that go?”
“I told him I still cared about him and he said the same and that maybe we can get together when I get back to Philly.”
“Good luck with that. Don’t reach out to him again. He needs to take the step and pursue you. You’re the prize Kita. Against better judgement you’ve reached out to him again. Now that the connection is there it’s up to him to make the move now and set up a proper date.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“Then he’s really not interested in seeing you again.”
“Okay. He always says he’s really busy with work and things are crazy.”
“People say things like that to get out of stuff, Kita.”
“Why can’t people just be straight forward and say what they want?”
“Because you’re straightforward, forthright and honest and you want everybody else to be like you. It just doesn’t work that way I’m afraid.”
“But that sucks.”
“People suck sometimes.”
“I hate boys.”
“Then date men.”
She looks up at me and grins ever so slightly. I look away.
“Can I have my lotion? I guess I’ll go tanning.”
“That’s all we do here! Where do you want me to send you?”
“Send you where?”
“Send me to Room Two.”
I set her up in the system and the song “You Send Me” pops into my musical brain. She tosses the apple into the fresh plastic bag that I have just put in to line the waste basket this morning, and heads to her room.
I’m walking past the basket and see there is still plenty of flesh (mesocarp) on that apple. So I pick it up and start eating it. (The bag is clean and there is no other objects in the bag. Just the apple)
I don’t bite into that apple because I’m hungry. I don’t savor every sweet, delicious bite of this discarded piece of fruit because I need to eat more healthy. I don’t eat out of the trash can like a homeless person. I eat that apple because Kita has just had her sweet mouth on it. Her plump, soft lips and tongue have been all over this lucky bit of fruit. I know to some of you this may seem a little gross, but that apple was delicious! It was better in my twisted mind because Kita had her hot mouth all over it. There’s something sexual about the whole, sharing food/biblical/forbidden fruit thing working in my mind. So I ate that apple right down to the seeds and stem. It’s like I was devouring a part of Kita.
Or Kita herself.
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