'Apples' by Leonora Desar
There were two people, a man and a woman, but it could have been anybody, a man and a man, or a woman and a woman, or a man with a giraffe, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that they were holding hands. They were walking close. I was behind them. At times like these I wonder, will they part, like the red seas, or will they hold. They held. I said, can I please walk past, they swerved their bodies, in one fluid motion, it was like they had become one body. It would have been easier to break apart, but no, they held. I walked around them, the man was not much taller than the woman, or maybe it looked that way in the light, the way they were holding, together.
I went home. I walked up the stairs, I said, husband, let’s go for a walk. You probably figured out what I was up to. I was testing him. We walked and I waited for someone to come, to break us up, I wondered what he would do, if he’d say, you are not breaking up this marriage, if he’d say it with his mind or with his body, the way we would step aside, as one.
I waited. Finally a man came. He had a grocery cart. He was walking with it and they galloped down the street. Tha thunk. Tha thunk. I waited for him, and looked at all the apples. They were in the cart, they were bopping up and down. Each one seemed to say, he loves me, he loves me not. They drew closer, the apples and the man, I held my husband’s hand, trying to keep a neutral grip, I didn’t want him to be influenced. His hand was cold, not warm or cool or in the middle, cold. It was a cold day. He wore a scarf, it was red and blue, there was a dusty thingy in the middle. I wanted to brush it off, I wanted to look at the apples, I wanted to count them just awhile longer.