Musemuggers
Title: The Little Things
Author: keppiehed
Word Count: 1529
Prompt: “growing”
A/N: Written for musemuggers, Challenge #495, Option #1.
Jenna lost her mind in the produce section of the grocery store.
In retrospect, she blamed the high humidity in Canada this year. The unseasonable weather had caused a certain blight on parsnips, allowing for a sharp increase in their prices at market. Jenna had never eaten a parsnip before, but she’d run across a recipe calling for them and was stunned to note the expense of the innocuous veggie. It was during a flight of fancy involving the finances of humble folks and their impossible craving for luxurious tubers that her mind must have become unmoored, she later decided. The last thing she remembered was clutching the pale root in question when she saw him.
Once, Jenna had attended an art fair with her dad and had realized that men of a particular age began to look alike. She’d been bending to point out an exhibit, but a quick glance revealed a whole sidewalk filled with salt-and-pepper-haired men who looked just enough like him to startle her into a revelation of his sudden ordinariness. He appeared from their midst a minute later, never appreciating his own Waldo moment. It made her smile at the time, but the memory grew a bittersweet tinge after he died; she kept recognizing strangers with his smile or a guy who cut his hair the same way. It took Jenna months to stop scanning the crowds for his distinctive brows and a year after that before his features almost faded from memory altogether. In time, her heart had learned to stop leaping at every tall man with a rolling gait. They were just older men, and she was just buying parsnips. Jenna shook her head to clear the past that clung to her like cellophane to the mushrooms in aisle three.
The man was still there, though. He was near the bananas, looking confused. Jenna blinked, but his profile remained resilient. A stab of grief needled her chest, but she tamped it down, feeling silly. This man wore an out-of-fashion red flannel shirt just like her dad used to wear, that was all. I’m not doing this again, Jenna thought, but she took a step away from the vegetables and into fruits for a closer inspection. His profile was strong: a blunt nose and cleft chin. “Dad?” Jenna heard the query before she knew she’d said his name. Maybe she wasn’t okay after all. Maybe she should go back to Dr. Hannewald, like Alex kept suggesting. Tears blurred her vision.
“Jenna?”
It was a trick or a joke. Jenna looked around to see if someone-anyone-in the throng of shoppers was observing her for a laugh, but she knew even as she scanned the passing faces that there was no one involved. What was happening?
“I had a hankering for some jellybeans.” Her dad held up a package of the brightly colored candies, his favorites. “Fancy meeting you here. Let’s go get some lunch, what do you say?”
Jenna swallowed a sob, not trusting herself to speak. She didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded.
Her dad turned without waiting to see if she would follow. The gesture was so familiar that a swell of sorrow rose in Jenna’s gut. She had forgotten how self-assured he was. Is? She jogged to catch him and it was only when they’d reached the doors that she realized she was still clutching a spray of parsnips in her hand. Jenna set it atop a bin of plastic dolls, a dubious crown, and hurried to see where he’d gone.
He was standing in the parking lot, gazing at the sea of cars. “Now, where did I park … ?”
Jenna pulled her keys from her purse. “I’ll drive, Dad.”
“All right,” he agreed.
Jenna led him to her car. The feeling of surreality persisted as they sat down. She buckled her belt, but true to form, he left his dangling. He’d always eschewed the law where he could. That bit of his personality made her feel his loss even more. “I’ve missed you, Dad,” she said around the lump in her throat.
“Take a right at the light and keep driving down Seventh,” he said. “I know a place that makes the best pancakes, if you’re up for it.”
“Okay,” Jenna said.
“When you were little, you used to love pancakes,” her dad said.
Jenna slowed at the light and turned on her signal. “You remember that?”
“I remember more than you think,” her dad said.
Jenna frowned. “I’m sorry, have I gone crazy? How is this happening? I was with you when you di-”
“How’s Alex?” her dad asked.
Jenna took a breath and waited for traffic to clear before she turned right. “We divorced. It was after you d-Well, it was a little while ago.”
Her dad pulled open his packet of jellybeans and selected a green one. “Why?”
“Dad, don’t! We’re going to lunch!” Jenna laughed, then stopped. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d even smiled. She reached for her sunglasses and slipped them over her eyes. “I don’t know how you can eat those things, anyway.”
“What? They’re good.” He popped another one in his mouth. “What happened with you and Alex? I thought you were good together.”
Jenna pressed her lips together. “I guess I was sad. He was busy with work. We grew apart. Take your pick. Whatever.”
Her dad said nothing.
Jenna sighed. “Where is this place, anyway? We’re almost out of town.”
“Nearly there.” Her dad squinted. “Turn left at the stop sign up there. How are the kids?”
Jenna shrugged. “Fine. Getting big. You know how kids are. Matt’s going to be tall. He’s in a size eleven shoe already, can you believe that?”
“He might be as tall as I am if he keeps growing,” her dad said.
“About that, Dad-”
“Right here!” he said, pointing. “You’re going to miss it! Right before the creek there.”
Jenna made the turn onto Jessop Road and into the parking lot of an old diner. “But there’s something we should discuss.”
“You’re getting thin,” her dad interrupted. “I hope you’re taking care of yourself. And the car; did you ever get the serpentine belt replaced?”
Jenna shrugged.
“You should pay attention to things like that before they break,” her dad said. “You never listen.”
“You never listened!” Jenna said, her temper slipping. “There are things I wanted to say but you never had time to talk. And then it was too late.”
Her dad bit into another jellybean. “I’m here now. I brought you for pancakes.”
‘You’re doing it again! It’s like we’re having two conversations.” Jenna shook her head. “I don’t need pancakes.”
Her dad turned to look out the window. “You might need them more than you think.”
Jenna frowned. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“What did you want to talk about?” her dad asked.
“There’s so much I want to say.” Jenna gripped the wheel. “And now I don’t even know where to start.”
Her dad picked out another jellybean. “I’m listening. If you could say anything, what would it be?”
“I guess ...” Jenna’s throat closed. “I just want you to know I love you, that’s all. I wasn’t sure you knew that. I was worried I didn’t say it before you … the last time I saw you.”
Her dad kept his face to the window. “There’s love all around you, Jenna girl, in sorts of ways. Don’t get so caught up in being sad that you forget to see it in the little things. That’s what I wanted to say. Now, let’s go get those pancakes.”
“What are you talking about?” Jenna frowned, annoyed by his opaque answer. “I don’t want any stupid pancakes!” But her dad was already opening his door.
Jenna flung open her door, but when she turned, he wasn’t standing next to the car. She was alone in the parking lot. “Dad?” she called into the silence, but the only answer was the buzzing of the summer cicadas. She leaned down and checked the windows, but the only sign he’d ever been there at all was a single jellybean that had fallen into a crack in the passenger’s seat upholstery. She reached down and held it in the palm of her hand. The candy warmed with her body heat and little streaks of sticky color leached into the creases of her hands. She stood by the car, holding the last jellybean, waiting for him to return.
He didn’t.
Jenna’s stomach grumbled. She checked her watch and saw that she’d missed lunch. She decided she was hungry; maybe she’d been hungry for a long, long time. The diner was small, but it was open. Maybe they’d have something she’d like. Maybe she could bring the boys here on a weekend sometime. She used to go out with her dad on weekends and have pancakes and Belgian waffles; it was good to remember those times. She should have thought of it before now. Maybe the boys would like to do that with her. Jenna opened her fist and dropped the candy onto the asphalt. She was finally ready to eat.
Author: keppiehed
Word Count: 1529
Prompt: “growing”
A/N: Written for musemuggers, Challenge #495, Option #1.
Jenna lost her mind in the produce section of the grocery store.
In retrospect, she blamed the high humidity in Canada this year. The unseasonable weather had caused a certain blight on parsnips, allowing for a sharp increase in their prices at market. Jenna had never eaten a parsnip before, but she’d run across a recipe calling for them and was stunned to note the expense of the innocuous veggie. It was during a flight of fancy involving the finances of humble folks and their impossible craving for luxurious tubers that her mind must have become unmoored, she later decided. The last thing she remembered was clutching the pale root in question when she saw him.
Once, Jenna had attended an art fair with her dad and had realized that men of a particular age began to look alike. She’d been bending to point out an exhibit, but a quick glance revealed a whole sidewalk filled with salt-and-pepper-haired men who looked just enough like him to startle her into a revelation of his sudden ordinariness. He appeared from their midst a minute later, never appreciating his own Waldo moment. It made her smile at the time, but the memory grew a bittersweet tinge after he died; she kept recognizing strangers with his smile or a guy who cut his hair the same way. It took Jenna months to stop scanning the crowds for his distinctive brows and a year after that before his features almost faded from memory altogether. In time, her heart had learned to stop leaping at every tall man with a rolling gait. They were just older men, and she was just buying parsnips. Jenna shook her head to clear the past that clung to her like cellophane to the mushrooms in aisle three.
The man was still there, though. He was near the bananas, looking confused. Jenna blinked, but his profile remained resilient. A stab of grief needled her chest, but she tamped it down, feeling silly. This man wore an out-of-fashion red flannel shirt just like her dad used to wear, that was all. I’m not doing this again, Jenna thought, but she took a step away from the vegetables and into fruits for a closer inspection. His profile was strong: a blunt nose and cleft chin. “Dad?” Jenna heard the query before she knew she’d said his name. Maybe she wasn’t okay after all. Maybe she should go back to Dr. Hannewald, like Alex kept suggesting. Tears blurred her vision.
“Jenna?”
It was a trick or a joke. Jenna looked around to see if someone-anyone-in the throng of shoppers was observing her for a laugh, but she knew even as she scanned the passing faces that there was no one involved. What was happening?
“I had a hankering for some jellybeans.” Her dad held up a package of the brightly colored candies, his favorites. “Fancy meeting you here. Let’s go get some lunch, what do you say?”
Jenna swallowed a sob, not trusting herself to speak. She didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded.
Her dad turned without waiting to see if she would follow. The gesture was so familiar that a swell of sorrow rose in Jenna’s gut. She had forgotten how self-assured he was. Is? She jogged to catch him and it was only when they’d reached the doors that she realized she was still clutching a spray of parsnips in her hand. Jenna set it atop a bin of plastic dolls, a dubious crown, and hurried to see where he’d gone.
He was standing in the parking lot, gazing at the sea of cars. “Now, where did I park … ?”
Jenna pulled her keys from her purse. “I’ll drive, Dad.”
“All right,” he agreed.
Jenna led him to her car. The feeling of surreality persisted as they sat down. She buckled her belt, but true to form, he left his dangling. He’d always eschewed the law where he could. That bit of his personality made her feel his loss even more. “I’ve missed you, Dad,” she said around the lump in her throat.
“Take a right at the light and keep driving down Seventh,” he said. “I know a place that makes the best pancakes, if you’re up for it.”
“Okay,” Jenna said.
“When you were little, you used to love pancakes,” her dad said.
Jenna slowed at the light and turned on her signal. “You remember that?”
“I remember more than you think,” her dad said.
Jenna frowned. “I’m sorry, have I gone crazy? How is this happening? I was with you when you di-”
“How’s Alex?” her dad asked.
Jenna took a breath and waited for traffic to clear before she turned right. “We divorced. It was after you d-Well, it was a little while ago.”
Her dad pulled open his packet of jellybeans and selected a green one. “Why?”
“Dad, don’t! We’re going to lunch!” Jenna laughed, then stopped. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d even smiled. She reached for her sunglasses and slipped them over her eyes. “I don’t know how you can eat those things, anyway.”
“What? They’re good.” He popped another one in his mouth. “What happened with you and Alex? I thought you were good together.”
Jenna pressed her lips together. “I guess I was sad. He was busy with work. We grew apart. Take your pick. Whatever.”
Her dad said nothing.
Jenna sighed. “Where is this place, anyway? We’re almost out of town.”
“Nearly there.” Her dad squinted. “Turn left at the stop sign up there. How are the kids?”
Jenna shrugged. “Fine. Getting big. You know how kids are. Matt’s going to be tall. He’s in a size eleven shoe already, can you believe that?”
“He might be as tall as I am if he keeps growing,” her dad said.
“About that, Dad-”
“Right here!” he said, pointing. “You’re going to miss it! Right before the creek there.”
Jenna made the turn onto Jessop Road and into the parking lot of an old diner. “But there’s something we should discuss.”
“You’re getting thin,” her dad interrupted. “I hope you’re taking care of yourself. And the car; did you ever get the serpentine belt replaced?”
Jenna shrugged.
“You should pay attention to things like that before they break,” her dad said. “You never listen.”
“You never listened!” Jenna said, her temper slipping. “There are things I wanted to say but you never had time to talk. And then it was too late.”
Her dad bit into another jellybean. “I’m here now. I brought you for pancakes.”
‘You’re doing it again! It’s like we’re having two conversations.” Jenna shook her head. “I don’t need pancakes.”
Her dad turned to look out the window. “You might need them more than you think.”
Jenna frowned. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“What did you want to talk about?” her dad asked.
“There’s so much I want to say.” Jenna gripped the wheel. “And now I don’t even know where to start.”
Her dad picked out another jellybean. “I’m listening. If you could say anything, what would it be?”
“I guess ...” Jenna’s throat closed. “I just want you to know I love you, that’s all. I wasn’t sure you knew that. I was worried I didn’t say it before you … the last time I saw you.”
Her dad kept his face to the window. “There’s love all around you, Jenna girl, in sorts of ways. Don’t get so caught up in being sad that you forget to see it in the little things. That’s what I wanted to say. Now, let’s go get those pancakes.”
“What are you talking about?” Jenna frowned, annoyed by his opaque answer. “I don’t want any stupid pancakes!” But her dad was already opening his door.
Jenna flung open her door, but when she turned, he wasn’t standing next to the car. She was alone in the parking lot. “Dad?” she called into the silence, but the only answer was the buzzing of the summer cicadas. She leaned down and checked the windows, but the only sign he’d ever been there at all was a single jellybean that had fallen into a crack in the passenger’s seat upholstery. She reached down and held it in the palm of her hand. The candy warmed with her body heat and little streaks of sticky color leached into the creases of her hands. She stood by the car, holding the last jellybean, waiting for him to return.
He didn’t.
Jenna’s stomach grumbled. She checked her watch and saw that she’d missed lunch. She decided she was hungry; maybe she’d been hungry for a long, long time. The diner was small, but it was open. Maybe they’d have something she’d like. Maybe she could bring the boys here on a weekend sometime. She used to go out with her dad on weekends and have pancakes and Belgian waffles; it was good to remember those times. She should have thought of it before now. Maybe the boys would like to do that with her. Jenna opened her fist and dropped the candy onto the asphalt. She was finally ready to eat.