As the wind blew her hair in front of her eyes she forced it back behind her ear, feeling the trunk of the tree with every inch of her long pianist fingers. She traced her fingers up along the trunk following the code-like pattern of the bark towards a branch with silky leaves, and finally wrapping her thin fingers around a ripe plump peach, she plucked it carefully from the tree. The peach was fuzzy and smelled of the sun; warm from the heat of the day. Gently she cradled the peach in her hand, and turned away from the tree.
"Looks like a good one." A man sitting only a few feet away decided aloud. He got up smiling at his wife, her chocolate brown hair swimming around her exposed shoulders, and her smile as sweet as the peach she held in her hands. Oh how he loved her right now. As she held out her hand waiting for him to lead her back to the house she asked, "Ross would you like me to leave the peach out so when you get home you can have it?" His smile faded as he cleared his throat.
"I might be late from work again. Very late." Her expression did not change and she continued to smile as he led her back home, the peach safely tucked under her other arm. She looked happy to Ross, but as they walked silently along she knew that he was lying. She could not see it, but she heard the lie flow easily from his mouth like water to a cup.
"Home again." Ross said as he helped her sit on the porch bench.
"The painting on the railing is chipping again, is it not?" She asked as she sat down, placing the peach in her lap.
"Lena, how is it that I have my sight and yet I do not see half of what you do?" he joked as he kissed her lightly. Lena laughed as she sat there perfectly content, her fingers tracing the fuzz of the newly plucked peach. But Ross frowned as he sat down next to her, fighting with the truth once more. Lena turned to face him and although she could not see him, she felt his presence and could hear his soft steady breathing. Ross looked hard at Lena, those dazzling cursed eyes that were slightly glazed over staring back at him as he sighed. How could he lie to those trusting eyes? Clearing his throat his whispered softly,
"Lena I haven't been entirely honest with you." Again her expression remained unchanged as she spoke.
"I know Ross. I know." Her voice, unlike his, was steady and it appeared as though she had practiced this moment. Lena turned away from him and down to her lap where her hands began to robotically roll the peach back and forth.
"Her name is Sharon. I thinkā¦I think I'm in love with her." The peach dropped hard onto the porch making a quiet thud as it hit. With tears falling softly down her face, Lena stood and, using the porch railing as a guide, went back into the house where she would begin to pack her things. Ross sat numb staring at the now bruised peach. He reached down, picked it up, and took a small bite. The once sweet and pure peach tasted sour and brittle in his mouth as he chewed.
"Looks like a good one." He had said. And it had been, until he had soured it.
