Organic Passion
jd daniels

Jandy slid off her bike, pushed it into the rack and snapped on the lock.  As she pulled off her helmet, the pungent odor of lilacs made her nostril hairs tickle. She sniffed.  The sun’s rays painted the fresh tree leaves in multi-shades of green and silver.  Two lines of red tulips and another row of daffodils waved in the warm breeze.  Nearby, hostas sprouted through wood chips.  Ah, spring-time, her favorite season.  She sighed.

“Hey, Jandy, how’s things?”

Deep in her own world, the words caused Jandy to jump, but she quickly recovered, nodded and gave the woman a thumbs-up as she passed. 

Stepping toward the building, the Co-0p door swung open.  The pony-tailed, male cashier winked at her.  Jandy bent her head, retrieved a basket and headed for the produce.  With infinite care she filled the hand-basket with one green and one red pepper, two perfect tomatoes, a batch of parsnips, a yellow onion and a clove of fresh garlic. 

“Cookin` tonight?”

Jandy turned her head.  Dale, from the B & B on their street, towered over her. His salt and pepper hair was swept back from his large forehead.  His eyes glittered with warmth.  

She grinned. “Me?  Cookin`?  You know better than that.”

Dale chuckled.  “You’ve got it made, girl, being with a guy who loves everything “kitchen”. My guy doesn’t know a stove from a dishwasher.”  He glanced to the right, snapped his head upward in a greeting, excused himself and hurried down the aisle.

Jandy returned her attention to the veggies, withdrawing an eggplant.  As she did, the sleeve of her shirt slid up her arm.  Startled, she quickly covered her flesh, then positioned the darkly purple eggplant near the peppers in her basket.

At the dessert rack, with minute` care, she selected a dark chocolate walnut brownie, eyeing the slices of carrot cake.  She touched her thigh.  A fat pocket? Oh, no.  What would Joe say?   She placed Joe’s dessert into the basket and moved away.

Waiting in line at the check-out counter, she gazed at the eggplant.  Her again inched-up shirtsleeve revealed bruises in the shape of fingers to be the same color as the organic vegetable. Under the bright light, she gazed at her small wrist in amazement with a feeling of revulsion she’d never felt before.  “Yes, no doubt about it,” she thought.  “I’m one lucky woman to be hooked up with an obsessive man whose one passion is food and cooking. One lucky woman.”

The line moved forward. She bit down on her lip.

“Your number?” the cashier asked, glancing at her hand gripping the eggplant.

His face paled.  

First published: May, 2014
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