Chapter 8: Fresh Food, New Memories

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"These are really good, baby," commented Marta as she chewed on her pepperette.

I started the Lexus and put the shifter into drive.

"Well, if you want more, there should be a lot at the farmers' market. That's where I always get mine. I never buy them from the grocery store anymore." I slowed down as I approached the end of the driveway.

"Do you have a list, baby?" she asked as the car came to a stop and I looked both ways before pulling out to the right.

"Yup," I replied as I straightened the steering wheel. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled the slip of paper out and handed it to her. "Most of those items on the list are there because I am running low, or completely out of them. Do you want to add to the list?"

"Mm, I am not sure, baby. I might have a craving, you never know. Maybe we can decide when we get there?"

"Sure," I agreed, glancing over at her with a smile.

As we drove along the country roads to town, Marta pulled her hair elastic out and put the window down. Her hair was a lot longer than I remembered it to be, but she still looked just as beautiful as the first day I had met her.

After passing a few farms Marta began to cough and plugged her nose as she closed her window.

"Baby, it smells so bad."

I laughed. "That would be cow shit, or as farmers usually call it, cow manure. If you're going to live out here with me, you better get used to it."

She kept pinching her nose as she looked at me with a scrunched up face. I could tell she wasn't going to adjust quickly to the smell, but over time I'm sure she would come around. It wasn't like I drove out into the country one day and inhaled the scent thinking 'Boy, this is delicious!'. The country smell was definitely an acquired taste.

Pulling into the farmers' market, I parked on the grass with other vehicles. Many of them were jacked up trucks, but there were also a lot of small commuter cars and vans for shuttling kids around.

I locked the car once Marta closed her door, then reached for her hand as we made our way toward the gate. We walked in and began surveying the stands that were set up. I knew where I would find the things I needed for the weekend, but I still wanted to check out each vendor tent in case there was a really good deal on something.

"Baby, how does this work?" She asked, five minutes after walking past several vendors without stopping for more than a few seconds to inspect produce and prices.

"It's not much different from the grocery store," I began to explain, as I stopped and pointed toward a tomato stand. "Produce is there to be examined and the prices are usually posted as well. Sometimes they are prebagged, sometimes they aren't. And depending on the vendor, they might even have samples as well, but don't count on it." As we began to walk again, I added, "Oh, and I almost forgot. Cash is pretty much the only way to pay. I've never seen anyone paying with a debit card, but I have seen people trade a few things."

"I don't have any money though, baby."

Rolling my eyes, "Oh yeah... I forgot. What do you have on you?"

"My bank card and ID, that is it," Marta replied.

"Hmm," I groaned. "Well, if there's something you like, let me know the price. I'll just have to make sure I have enough money for what we really need to buy for the weekend."

"Okay, baby," she smiled up at me.

Slowly but surely we made our way around the market, picking up everything we needed. I had twenty dollars remaining, so I was going to offer it to Marta as I took the bag of beef from the butcher.

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