Page 92 of Fruit
We lie in bed together, fruits ripe for the picking.
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The forest has a strange sort of beauty in winter. Its green is mixed with the brown of the trees that have been stripped bare, playing at light and shadow. The sky overhead is overcast, but it doesn’t stand in a monochrome uniform. It’s pressed and shaped by hanging clouds, some a heavy grey, others almost white. I almost get the impression that I could touch some of them if I climbed up one of the swaying trees and reached up.
Isadoro comes to stand next to me. The small, intimate affair of his housewarming party is a muffled series of voices coming from inside. I tilt my head towards him. He looks a little tired, as if someone had pressed under his eyes for a little too long. But as he looks out at the trees, at the gathering sky, at the passing breeze, he looks calm. Content.
There’s a trained stillness to Isadoro sometimes which I find calming. Even though it may not have come naturally to him when he was young, it’s part of him now, and he uses it gently. We stand beside each other and look out. We don’t need to speak. We know what this moment means. The arrival to a place long sought-out. Not the end of the road, not by any means, but a place to rest and celebrate, to replenish strength before moving on.
A burst of laughter has us turning to look towards its source. Isadoro catches my eye and raises his eyebrows a little in a silent question. I smile, nodding, and we turn, heading back inside.
The rest of the group are all gathered together. There isn’t even any furniture yet, and the food plates are placed on boxes around the room. ‘Housewarming’ is probably the wrong word to use for the event, but I think Iván and Isadoro had wanted to show off the raw form of what they had found before they moulded it into something uniquely theirs.
I hadn’t had any serious doubts, but it’s still a relief to see how well Sebastián has assimilated into the group. Despite his worries, no one held the slightest grudge against him. As I had told Sebastián, they could hardly judge, and I’d shared enough about Sebastián for them to understand.
I watch him talk to Jack, whom I should have guessed would get on especially well with him. They both have rather serious demeanours, masking something infinitely softer, and even their careers could be said to overlap somewhat.
I bend to pick up an orange slice from one of the plates. When I look up, I see Sebastián looking at me from across the room. I hold his gaze and almost feel his smile.
I bite into the orange under his stare and let the taste of it fill my mouth.
FIN
