jenna (1-3)

1.

His feet were cold.
He grabbed a bowl out of the cupboard and reached for the Honey Nut Cheerios. The bowl was rather old; Jenna had bought him a set of breakfast bowls for his house-warming party when he first acquired his apartment.
“Bowls?”
“You do like cereal, don’t you?”
“You bought bowls especially for cereal?”
She sighed over-dramatically. “Well, if you don’t like the bowls, then I suppose I’ll just have to take them back.”
He grabbed onto the box. “No, I like the bowls. I’ll dedicate all my future breakfasting to you.”
She laughed her Jenna laugh. “Why, thank you.”
“No. Thank you. I have reason to wake up in the morning now.”
She laughed again.
Cereal was the strange comfort food that Everett had been attached to ever since he was a little kid. Crunchy, sweet, never-ending. It came in huge boxes. The boxes had interesting information and games and comics on the sides. The comics weren’t funny, but kept his eyes busy while he was happily crunching away. What more could he ask for? Cereal was just too good.
Jenna was just too good. Every part of her radiated goodness. Her perfectly wavy hair was last seen swept into a messy bun; her manicured fingernails gently tapping the coffee mug she gazed over to smile at him. But physical appearances were nothing compared to her inner goodness.
Everett did not want to deny that he was smitten with her. Had been, actually, for quite some time. But he had tried to forget about her. Move on, give her room. And time. Did he succeed? Of course; he was a master of masking emotions, in his opinion. Everyone else begged to differ.

2.

“What is more worthless than an unlived life?” A glare creased into her eyebrows.
A smug grin. “Exactly. That’s why we’re taking a field trip.”
He had taken her to visit her mother in Georgia. It was Christmas, and Eve Conrad wanted her eldest daughter to be home as soon as possible, even though the prodigal daughter had claimed to be busy still studying. Because Mother Conrad knew Jenna wouldn’t use the plane ticket she had sent her, she had coaxed Everett into bringing her back. But before the journey home, he had decided to pick her up a little early.
“Nice ride,” he remembered her saying.
“That’s what she said,” he quipped.
She fought back a laugh, twisting it into a half-disgruntled noise. “You’re incredibly immature.”
“I thought you knew that already.” He turned on the heater. “Nothing like crossing the country in winter.”
“Why do you have a car anyway? I wasn’t aware they allowed cars on campus at Cornell.”
“I’m from Georgia, dah-ling” - wiggling his eyebrows.
“Yeah, so am I. And?”
“All I know about any other kind of transportation is that MARTA is shady. Period.”
“You had a bad experience on there once.”
He shuddered. “Enough to scar me for life. That woman had a strong arm.”
She let out the full laugh that she had been holding back from before. “So where are we headed?”
“Arkansas.”
“What’s in Arkansas?”
“My third cousin, twice-removed, Veronica Lemmon.”
“And why are we meeting Veronica?”
“To get you a gorgeous gift for your mother.”
“In Arkansas?”
“Yes. She’s a very good wooden duck carver.” He paused. “Is there a problem?”
She stared at him. “No…”
“Good.” He pretended to not feel her pointed leer. “Your mother said she was bringing you a hot date for the Eve’s New Year Garden party.” He tried not to care.
“Hot date? What? From where? I swore off dating ever since that creep in the philosophy section of the library.”
But she had met Mark over Christmas dinner. And she had a fine time. And went with him to her mother’s annual extravagant garden party on New Year’s Eve. He clenched his teeth and bore the pangs of jealousy for over four months until Mark decided to pursue a leggy pre-law student, leaving Jenna with a cheap text message. She called him a week after the separation, huffing at Mark’s “total lack of commitment to a relationship, save for only one to his lustful eyes.” He had mockingly toasted the end of the relationship with her, but internally, he wanted to shout and dance in pure relief.

3.

Navel oranges. Succulent pears. Hot chocolate mix. Tea bags. He stepped into the store to pick out a gift for Mrs. Conrad; he wouldn’t be able to attend the garden party this year.
He picked out an appealing gift set and took it to the register.
“Would you like to buy some flowers to go along with the gift?” the lady gestured to the corner, where flowers from local florists were displayed with utmost care.
He took a moment to pause. “No, thank you.”
A cash register ring. Some wrapping. “Here you go! Merry Christmas!”
A bright red poinsettia caught his eye. He made his way to the flower corner and picked it up. It was overpriced.
“Looking for anything in particular?” the lady called from behind.
“No, just looking.”
“Those poinsettias are lovely during the holiday season. Just set them by a roaring fireplace and a gingerbread house, it’s a nice picture.”
“Yes, it is.” He rubbed a leaf between his fingers. “Just a question.”
“Go ahead.”
“When are hydrangeas in season?”
She looked at him blankly for a few seconds. “May.”
“That’s quite a while from now.”
A sympathetic smile. “Indeed. Are they for someone special?”
“You could say that. Thank you, have a great day.”

[© 2010 by Sarah R.]