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Fruit and Storms

lightningvitaminpapayawater

Elena sat on her balcony, nursing the papaya she'd bought impulsively at the market. It was too ripe, its flesh yielding to her thumb like a bruise. She'd meant to share it with Marcus, but Marcus had left three days ago, taking his toothbrush and his silence and leaving behind a bottle of vitamin D supplements on her bathroom counter.

You need this, he'd told her last winter, pressing the bottle into her palm. You never go outside.

She sliced the papaya, black seeds scattering like accusations. Outside, the sky turned bruise-purple, the air heavy with that particular pressure that makes the hair on your arms stand at attention. Lightning struck somewhere distant, a white crack that seemed to split the world in two, and she counted the seconds. One, two, three—thunder rolled through her chest, vibrating through the floorboards.

They'd met in the office copy room. He was reaching for paper, she was reaching for him. Eight months of stolen moments, of hotel rooms with paper-thin walls, of him smelling like someone else's detergent on the nights he came to her. He'd told her he was leaving his wife. He'd been telling her that since January.

The first drops of water hit the balcony railing, sudden and cold. Elena ate another piece of papaya, sweet and cloying on her tongue. It tasted like lying, like believing, like the particular way he'd said her name when he was inside her, as if it were both a prayer and a curse.

Lightning flashed again, closer this time, illuminating the empty half of her bed through the sliding glass door. The vitamin supplements on the bathroom counter would expire before she finished them. The papaya would rot before she could eat it all. Some things, she was learning, were meant to be consumed in the moment, not saved for later.

She watched the water sluice over the balcony floor, carrying papaya seeds into the gutters, and let herself feel it—all of it—the way she hadn't when he was packing his bags in that practiced silence that told her he'd done this before, with someone else.