39 Days

Fresh Fruit

We walked, my dad and I, on the sandy brown dirt. Down the road we walked to our favorite place; well it was of course my favorite, the farmers market.

The road was a mile and a half long, almost hidden in the beautiful forestry. The greenest you'd ever imagine. The trees and vines collectively built an arch, a beautiful arch of an entrance to the market. The Green family, ironically, owned this market. Five of them. Fae, Donovan, Cassie, Anna, and that stupid boy that I loved to see. They all greeted us with the most welcoming smiles, so happy to see us every morning bright and early at seven sharp. Cassie was always the sweetest one, she cared for the vegetable stand alongside Anna who chatted her way through the amounts of people that loved their company. 

Fae and Donovan were by far the most popular people in our small town. They made everyone feel like family, and they always had people coming in to explore what they had since their market was the only one around for miles. After my mom got sick, my dad's new hobby was cooking since she was on a strict diet for some time. Even after she was done with her diet my dad didn't stop cooking. He completely ditched the restaurants and takeout for the most part, and so the market became our daily routine.

The only one who was different in the Green family was Ian. Ian Green. He ran the fruit stand but was always was as bitter as a tomato. Really ironic. He seemed to hate his job. I found it hilarious, he would see me laughing every time I walked by at his bored expression. That stand was my favorite. It had my favorite fruit, watermelon. It was so much to carry by myself though, as my dad already had all of the stuff he loved packed into his handmade wooden basket. So, on occasion Ian helped me bring everything home, but we never really talked that much; simply because it was just his job. I remember that Ian used to call me melon, it was some stupid sort of inside joke. Anyways, that farmers market had been the place I've grown to know so well.

Most days, our conversations consisted of awkward "hello" and "goodbye" exchanges, but that wasn't always that way. 

One particular morning, it was cold and dreary, but me and my dad still went to the market regardless. 

That was his favorite weather, so I knew we would be gone awhile, and I had decided it was my time to get to know Ian. I snuck away from my dad who was engaged in genuine conversation with Donovan about who knows what, and Ian was just sitting at his stand on his phone, doing whatever.

"Hi Ian," I blurted, catching his attention. I stood there smiling, and he immediately turned red.

"Oh um-- hey Rose," he said quietly, clearing his throat, "what do you need?"

"I'm actually just here to talk, my dad's taking forever," I pursed my lips together in an awkward smile.

He nodded longingly, he understood how awful it was to get his ear chatted off by his dad. But my dad didn't mind as he was a Chatty Cathy too. He stood up from his chair, "Come with me." 

I followed him to his little truck, and he opened the tailgate and invited me to sit. I hopped up, and sat next to him.

"What do you wanna know?" He asked, he seemed to be getting more comfortable. 

"What's your favorite color?" I asked, slyly, hoping my terrible joke would go undetected.

"It's--"

"It's green, huh?" I almost couldn't contain my laugh. I just had to do it. I was laughing hysterically at my own joke as he just watched me.

"No, it's not. It's blue."

He rolled his eyes, I'm guessing he's heard that one before.

"Okay, sorry," I said, my laughing settled down, "what do you do everyday? Besides this, obviously. You look bored all the time."

He shrugged, "Not much really, I hang out at home, sometimes I go hang out with the boys. We go mudding, hunting, I don't know, just guy stuff."

"Cool," I wasn't really that interested, but I pretended to be, "I've always wondered why I see tire tracks all through the field. Now I know."

He chuckled at my response, "Oops."

And then he shifted his weight to where he was now facing me more directly, "What are you even doing in the field anyways?" The field was the secret spot of the town for years. Kids would hang out there and go wild, but those kids all grew up and moved on now. I was never allowed to go to the field when I was a kid unless it was with my dad or my mom, but now it's more of a peaceful place than anything.

"I cut through it to get here, or sometimes I'll sit out there when it's nice and just hang out... by myself."

"Well, you could always hang out there with me, I wouldn't mind. Let me know when you're going next time and I can show you some cool trails," he said, picking at the dirt on his jeans. I nodded and smiled a little, "Okay, I guess that would be cool."

We both heard a whistle and saw my dad in the distance waving at me.

"I guess my dad wants to get going, I'll see you tomorrow though."

"Sounds good, I'll be here," he laughed, he's there everyday. And I hopped off of the tailgate and made my way to my dad and we started the journey home.