What Rhymes With Orange

Prelude

Overture

Peel the wide double doors agape

Slowly

Yield to it

Denial is futile

For its gravity is certain

It eases in

Like a clear creek rushing

On dust-caked feet

The midsummer breeze kissing

Your trickling beads of sweat

Or bullfrogs singing

After a rainy evening

Fireflies in thick fog flickering

And the silver thread of moon

Glowing softly

On sky of raven ebony

I spent weeks concentrating on writing and I had come up with a few more poems that I figured would go well into my next collection. The only breaks I had were a few visits from Marilyn, cleaning day, market day, and occasional messages from Adam as we e-mailed poems to each other and expressed our thoughts on them. I found him to be a most unlikely friend, since we had barely begun to know each other and technically he was just an acquaintance, but at the same time it didn't feel wrong to call him "friend" even when it seemed premature. I delighted in the fact that it's such a rare thing to meet someone you instantly connect with and I managed to do that in this tiny corner of the world, where I'm supposedly running away from everything and everyone.

Two weeks after we sold the oranges, Marilyn dropped by to give me a bottle of red wine. "From Uncle George," she said, "he wants to say thank you for everything before he leaves the country and he hopes you appreciate the sweet red." Man, these people are too nice. I invited Marilyn into the house and said, "Please tell George that I'm very, very grateful for the gift and he doesn't have to thank me so much." Considering how I soaked up all his alcohol that night. Marilyn smiled as I helped hang her coat. "Oh, Miss Sylvia, he never runs out of wine, so it's nothing really. But what you did for us meant a lot. It would break uncle's heart to see that many oranges go to waste and because of you that didn't have to happen." Her words warmed me up inside. "Oh... well, you're always welcome. Have you had lunch yet? I bought some lasagna this morning from this little Italian place right across the market. It's good, I'd like you to have some. It will go well with the wine, too. Your timing is perfect, Marilyn." I urged her to sit at the dining table while I heated up the lasagna in the microwave. "Thank you," she said. An inviting, gentle aroma of tomato sauce and mozzarella filled the air. We sat and ate, talking about the most mundane things, telling each other what we've been up to lately. I finally got the chance to apologize to her for the trouble I caused. I said, "Marilyn, Adam told me about what happened that night and I just... I'm so, so sorry for the nuisance. I mean, you had to tuck me into bed, it's embarrassing." We both laughed. "Adam told me you really took care of me and I don't know how to thank you enough for that." Marilyn smiled and said, "No worries, miss." She fell silent, sipping her glass of wine slowly. Oh, right! I should ask her about Adam. I cleared my throat. "So, I saw how you were staring at Adam all the time that day." I looked at her and smiled teasingly. Oh my god, she's blushing right now. Marilyn was quiet. I giggled, amused by her shyness. She tried not to smile but gave up and said, "Oh, miss, I don't want to talk about that." And we both laughed. "So you DO like him then?" I asked. "No," Marilyn said. She quickly followed it up. "I mean, yes... I think I find him good-looking. But... it's nothing." She kept her eyes lowered as she spoke, staring at her uneasy hands on her lap. "Perhaps you're confused," I said, "maybe you feel warmly about him because he had been generous to you and your uncle. You should think about that. But if you're sure you like him for other reasons, then... well, I could tell you right now, as much as I've gotten to know him, he's not bad at all." She looked at me wide-eyed and silent. I felt a wave, cold at first and then warm, rising up from my stomach to my chest. That's weird... is the wine doing that? I lifted my glass and took a sip. "Just be careful, though," I continued, "We hardly know the guy. Have you two been talking?" She smiled shyly. "No, not since we visited the farm. He just called me for the payment but... I don't think we can be friends... and he'll never go for someone like me..." What!? "Nonsense! Why not?" I asked sharply, surprised at her lack of confidence. Age difference, perhaps? "Oh, it's nothing, miss... forget I said anything. I'll be alright." I looked at her askance. "You sure about that? Maybe I can help you out with him, like I could..." Marilyn interrupted. "No! No, there's no need for that. But... thank you." She took a big gulp of wine. Holy crap, this girl is troubled. I wanted to comfort her. "Well, if it's any consolation, I want you to know that I think you're a great girl and he has absolutely NO reason not to like you. Don't hope for too much, I don't want him breaking your heart. But don't be afraid to give it a try either. Just be ready for the best and the worst, be yourself, be honest and... just take it slow." Where am I getting this relationship advice? Oh, right. Teen magazine. I held Marilyn's hand, squeezed it gently and smiled at her. Lord in heaven, she's blushing again. She smiled and chuckled. "Thank you, Miss Sylvia. You are... I just..." We both laughed. "It's okay. You don't need to say anything more."