Strawberries. Like Summer.
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Strawberries are something that Neal associates with summer and the days he and Reilly spent in their teens driving to towns over an hour away to get them from the farmer's markets Reilly found out about through the newspaper. She was really the only person under the age of 30 Neal knew who read the newspaper.
Now that they're in their twenties, Reilly doesn't read the newspaper anymore. She checks the news on the internet when she wakes up and before she goes to work. She never wakes Neal up at 7 am on a Saturday to drive an hour out of their way to get strawberries and fresh broccoli. Instead, she calls him at 9 o'clock almost every night and explains to him why she's feeling lonely in a house jam-packed full of people. He knows that she's sitting in the bay window that he and Jackson installed the summer Reilly decided that the boarding house needed to be renovated. He figures she's picking at her nail polish- something probably in a shade of blue or green- and cradling the phone between her ear and her shoulder.
"Do you miss summer?" Neal asks the next time she calls. It's a Wednesday night and he's making spaghetti and staring out the window at the snow falling in heavy, fluffy flakes. Anthony should be home soon and during dinner Neal won't say much. Anthony does almost all the talking anyway.
"Yeah," Reilly answers. Her voice is scratchy; she's coming down with laryngitis or bronchitis or maybe ever tuberculosis, who knows? "But it'll be here again soon, right?"
"Are you watching the snow?" Neal's eyes are darting from flake to flake, the boiling water and noodles on the stove all of ignored.
"Yeah," She answers again. Neal can't even focus on an entire tangent of conversation.
"You should drink Chamomile tea with honey." Neal stirs the pasta absent-mindedly. He's feeling a little lost. The snow reminds him of "Edward Scissorhands" and the snowmen he made with his mom while his dad was at work. It reminds him of the one year he and Reilly made a point to go to the Winter Formal just to see what the big deal was and the way they had driven to the cemetery afterwards and watched the snow gather on headstones.
"I'll send Jackson out for some later." Neal can almost hear the shrug in her voice. "Winter gets me so down. I just don't get it."
"There's nothing to get. We're not young anymore. No more snow days. No more snowball fights. No more snowmen."
"You make us sound so old." He can hear Reilly shift on the other end of the phone. "We're not that old. We're just..."
"Stuck in a rut." Neal looks at the clock on the stove and sighs. Anthony is late again.
"I guess."
"Let's go to a show or something, I'm just tired of this." Neal pauses. "Let's get strawberries."
"Strawberries?" Reilly's question is nearly a laugh.
"Yeah. Strawberries. Like summer." Reilly just sighs. The pot boils over and Neal doesn't even curse. He just steps back and hangs up the phone.
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sweet jesus that's depressing. this makes more sense to me than i know how to type in this little comment box, but it reminds of the times when my mind is clear, empty and sane.