By Kelly Anne
I tucked her hair behind her ears and combed her kid bangs forward with my finger tips. She likes being cared for like a child. We sat closely at the table, arms touching, a careless graze. She made us all say what we were grateful for before we dove into our plates. “No!” I exclaimed, “it’s so embarrassing.” She proceeded to announce her appreciation for summer heat and fresh seasonal fruit. I stared at her perplexed, as if she were speaking another language — and she was. The corners of my lips upturn; a dumb love-struck smile. I proceeded to peel back the rubbery ears of corn, drunk on gin. My chubby fingers slipping on the skin. “Corn” I say to myself, under my breath. She overhears me talking to myself again and laughs aloud at my weirdness — marveling at our sameness. I was busy in the kitchen making gin and basil smashes for the guests. Shaking the concoctions wildly like a tambourine. I made my own salad dressing. She wanted a southwestern theme. Everyone drank the salad. Everyone ate the gin. I needed more basil! We scurried outside and picked crisp leaves off of the potted basil plant. “I grew it from a small plant” she said. “It’s too expensive to buy.” With green basil fists we ran inside as the rain drizzled. I muddled the leaves to ensure the guests stayed pleasantly drunk. It was a good night. She looked at me tenderly: “we need to get together.” We’re together now, I thought. “What about tomorrow?” Tomorrow came and went.
Kelly Anne is a Social Worker in central Florida and an advocate for women and children in her community. Kelly hopes her work will serve as a delightfully imaginative outlet for readers as it does for her. Instagram: Mitchellpants