The little guy in a blue, red, and maroon shirt - the FC Barcelona colors - whisked past Andres outreached arms. That little fireball was simply too fast and too low to the ground to be caught. Pausing at the stairs, the smiling six-year-old taunted Andres: "¡Atrápame!" before disappearing upstairs with his tiny little fist clutching a bright red Montmorency cherry. Andres couldn't chase Gabriel because a customer was at their fruit stand. Benevolently, Andres had to smile like he was a happy father. Yet in the corner of his eyes, he could see Enssell eyeing the basket of cherries as well, yet still too daunted to copy the mad heist of his older brother.
"You are wrong! Bananas don't have to be yellow to be good. I'll show you how to evaluate the maturity of a banana. See the black end of the banana? If you still see a lot of flower here, it's less mature. Compare these two bananas! See how that one has more corners in the shape and that one is smoother. That's two days of ripening difference."
"I have four baskets of bananas. See the dark yellow ones with the little black spots. Those are the sweetest ones for eating right now. But if you take them home, they'll be black and bruised. If you want to take them home, take them from this basket. They are not as yellow, but if you put them into a paper bag, they'll be perfect in the evening. If you want to eat them in three days, take these slightly green ones."
Andres kept explaining to the customer how to select fruit and evaluate fruit. The skeptical customer's face slowly let go of the tension. However, it became clear that the customer only wanted free samples. A pot-bellied middle-aged man, who seemed to enjoy haggling for its own sport, used up Andres's time. Yet, Andres's faith in his fruit being the most meticulously sourced was unshakeable. If people only understood how to truly evaluate fruit, they'd surely become lifetime customers.
"No, no, you never store peaches in the fridge. If they are only once in a fridge at any point of the transport, it destroys their texture. They no longer taste smooth and juicy."
The customer walked away not buying anything. Andres immediately took the free time to evaluate the mango display. Some of them were getting too soft and needed to be cut into samples before they spoiled to hand out to passersby. His hands had hardened skin from carrying the crates, but his fingers had the tactile sensitivity of a surgeon to feel the give of a fruit while barely touching it to avoid bruising it. Daniela came into the shop, pulling Gabriel and Enssell by their wrists. The hand of the pulled wrist was colorfully blotched in red from a cherry that more exploded in their hand than ever made it into their mouth. The two were giggling because they enjoyed their mother's emotional reaction and worry about how they'd ruin their new clothes with unwashable stains.
Andres knew what he was expected to do. He pulled the green water hose out and aimed the nozzle at the children hands that Daniela presented to him. The kids were so excited to splay their fingers wide. Any attention made them so happy. Any activity was a game to them.
"Did you buy lychee again?" asked Daniela. "Did you spend all of yesterday's profit on lychees?"
"We have to offer something different. We are the only stand in the street that offers lychee! If they all sell, we'll have so much money!" defended Andres.
"We are the only stand because nobody buys them. They are too fancy!" objected Daniela.
"I just want a better life for us. I want you to be able to enjoy life," justified Andres with exhaustion in his voice from too many arguments.
When she heard him say, that he wanted her to enjoy life. She knew what it really meant. Being thirty years old, she wasn't as young and pretty anymore as she was before the kids. She was still in good shape. However, every day, she was working long hours to do chores, to deliver fruit, and to do the bookkeeping. She knew that she wanted him to be like the frivolous young girls who were partying all the time and dressing in scandalous clothes. She could see his eyes following them down the street as the passed in front of the stand. He'd always drop whatever he was doing to watch - so obviously - while they'd giggle and let shoulder straps slap and dresses float in the wind. She knew what he desired, but she had to hold the family together. The kids had to do their homework.
When it was time to close up the shop at dusk and put the children to bed, Andres enjoyed throwing one over each shoulder and carrying them upstairs. He loved being the strong man for them. He loved their giggles and admiration. He'd lie down in bed with them - one in each arm - and tell them heroic bedtime stories. In one story, a rebel from the country challenged the dictator in the capital. In a glorious street fight - both sides chasing each other, hiding, and springing ambushes, the hero finally challenged the dictator. And the people rejoiced at the triumph. All hardships were gone and people danced in the streets.
She always watched him because his face glowed the most when he was in the depth of inventing another fable molded around himself as the big hero. He was a good man. A very good man! None of the other boys in her high school class were better than him. He was strong, smart, and good-hearted. They had built their own business from the ground up. With everything he did, he always tried to make things better. He had a handsome chest that she loved resting her head on. He never drank or spent days being lazy. Her mother had told her: "There is no better man than him in Venezuela! You must hold onto him with everything you have." But she also knew that he was a man and a man has lust - even if he hides it from her. Lust is the dark and fiery force that truly drives a man.
He always fully leveraged their money to invest in as much and as expensive produce as possible every morning when he went to the wholesaler to buy produce. He was trying to grow the business as fast and hard as possible. Any misstep would cause them to default. There was no leeway for risk. There was no extra for something a little fun. Her man was very driven to make a better life for her and their kids. But she had needed a little money. She had cooked the books. She had let him believe that they had a few bolivars less than they did.
With that, she had bought lingerie - very slutty lingerie. The lace bra pushed the breasts up but left the nipples exposed. The hosiery - belt, straps, and panties all intricately intertwined with straps and loops - was exposed at the crotch to leave her sex defenseless and exposed for wanton transgressions. When the kids were doing their homework, she had snuck into the bathroom to steal one of his razor blades. She filled a bucket with water and soap. Then she shaved her armpits, her upper lip, her forearms, and finally her pussy. She was so smooth all over that she felt naked and slutty.
The kids screamed for her: "What is four times four?" She told them to wait. She hurried and cleaned herself up to hide again in her functional clothing, the jeans and the t-shirt that was practical for doing laundry.
Knowing what she was going to do that night, she found an excuse to stand in the fruit stand. She watched him. He still had that easy smile that he sported in high school when they had met many years ago. She rewound some of their lovemaking and how familiar every part of his body had been when they devoured each other every day. There was that one time at the beach at night, hidden behind a concrete barrier in the moonlight with the sound of the waves crashing in the background. He looked neutered - like he still was that stallion of a lover, but when chikita walked passed the store, his eyes darted for her and immediately dropped to the floor because he knew that Daniela was watching him. The young woman wore an open blouse - no button clipped in, only the ends tied together at the bottom under her boobs. Her skirt was so high and fluttery that it kept exposing the bottom of her buttcheeks. It was a game of being able to get a clear glimpse for a second but never enough to burn the image to mind. So her skirt hem playing kept the eyes hungry to get a real bite after the tease. Today, Daniela didn't feel threatened by the young bimbo. She had a plan that would equal.
Everything was going well that evening, like most of the past years, they were hard-working and steadily improved their standing in life. But the occasional, distant gunfire had been closer today. Every day things change a little. They hadn't thought much of it. Yet today, Andres had cried out for her: "Bring a bucket of cold water!" There was desperation and panic in his voice. Something had happened. She trusted that he'd ask for the right thing. So she filled up a bucket and came running downstairs.