By Madison Hankins
Marina has never liked change. It is the one thing in life that rips her soul from her very being, leaving her feeling bare in a room full of strangers as she is forced to face the unknown. Her routine is developed specifically to avoid the concept. Marina’s mornings involve feeding the cat named Chugga, taking the bus to the farmer’s market, and coming home to make breakfast with her purchases, all before 8:00 AM. The rest of her day is spent at a clinic where she works as a receptionist, and then she takes the bus back home to crochet sweaters for Chugga. Marina is perfectly content.
Today’s trip to the farmer’s market results in a bag of fresh rolls, a mini jar of orange apricot marmalade, and a bunch of bananas. The old man working the produce stand says the same two words that he says everyday: lovely morning. Marina gives him the same curt nod and smirk she gave him yesterday. The same nod and smirk she gives the bus driver and the woman that sells the fresh bread. She doesn’t nod at the marmalade man. He gets a smile and a slight blush. The marmalade man smiles back. No change from yesterday.
Marina has never liked change, but she likes the marmalade man. His smile evokes a pur from inside her that rivals that of Chugga’s, and the slight brush of his hand on hers when she hands him the money makes the nerves jump into a jig fit for a leprechaun. His alure is made ever stronger by the fact that their interactions remain the same. No awkward conversations, no pressure, and no risk of change. He even makes good marmalade, though that wouldn’t keep her from visiting his stand.
With today’s purchases in hand, Marina makes her usual trek back to the bus stop. She wasn’t able to buy bananas yesterday since the vendor wasn’t there, a major hiccup in her day, and now the thought of being able to have her favorite fruit once again sends an elated warmth into her stomach. It’s 7:26, and the 7:30 bus is always exactly on time, so she sits down on the Taco Bell ad-covered bench to wait, pulling the bunch of bananas from her crocheted shopping bag to enjoy one in the meantime, imagining it’s a burrito supreme.
Just as Marina finishes peeling the taxi yellow fruit, a quickly approaching figure catches her eye. The marmalade man is in a hurried jog, coming closer to Marina with every encroaching footstep. Her fist tightens around the phallic food, and her eyes widen as the marmalade man reaches her. She stands to face him, but she can barely breathe, her worst fear now unfolding before her.
The marmalade man gives her the same smile as usual, but this time, words follow it. He reveals his name to be Justin, and he wants to go on a date with Marina. None of this information finds a home in Marina’s long-term memory. Her ears strain to comprehend what they just heard, but the electric ringing being sounded inside them keeps them from retaining anything. The blush that coated her cheeks only minutes ago at marmalade man’s stand has now returned, and it spreads to her still ringing ears, the color rivaling the homemade maraschino cherries from the old man’s produce stand. Panic… Breathing…Panic. The bus is still not here, providing her with no escape. Panic. Breathing. Panic. Marmalade man is staring at her, waiting for her answer, or, at the very least, her name. Panic, breathing, panic. No words leave her mouth. She checks her watch. 7:31 AM. The bus is late. Marina grabs her bag as she stands from the bench, her peeled banana in her left hand. She turns to the left, the direction of her apartment, before looking back at the marmalade man. Instead of a smile, she nods, leaving him behind and avoiding the chaos that has been her morning. The marmalade man watches as she walks away from him, but soon, he too leaves the bus stop. Moments later, the late 7:30 bus arrives to the scene, the only proof that Marina and the marmalade man were there is the bunch of bananas on the bench, abandoned and missing a single banana from amongst its ranks. The bus driver leaves his empty bus. He takes a banana for himself.
* * *
Madison Hankins received her Bachelor’s degree in English with an emphasis in Creative Writing at the Mississippi University for Women. She recently received her Master’s degree in English Creative Writing at the University of Southern Mississippi, where she is now pursuing her PhD in English Creative Writing. She has been writing her entire life, but only recently been trying to get her stories published. Her work as appeared in Zoetic Press’s NonBinary Review and Alphanumeric.