Peaches

Moving to the country
Gonna eat a lot of peaches
Moving to the country
Gonna eat a lot of peaches
--Presidents of the USA, Peaches

"Well. This didn't work out so well," she said.

He shook his head. "Nope."

"Any ideas?"

He looked under the hood of the car. Everything seemed to be there. Wires and hoses. The usual stuff.

He shook his head again. "Nope."

"Great. Just frigging great."

"Hey, it could be worse."

She raised an annoyed eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Sure. It could be raining." He scanned the sky just to be sure he didn't just jinx it. "The car could be on fire. We could be in the middle of Death Valley with nothing but a quickly melting popsicle."

"Great. I feel much better now."

He smiled and leaned back on the fender.

"Jesus. What are we going to do?" she said. "Look, still no service on my cell!"

He chuckled at how she held the phone as high as possible. "That's a pretty good impression of the Statue of Liberty."

But she obviously wasn't in a joking mood.

"Hey," he said. "Cheer up. Look at where we are." Orchards painted the hills around them for miles. Orchards with hanging fruit.

She didn't bother looking.

"Peaches!" he said.

"At least we won't starve after we're raped and murdered."

His footsteps shooshed in the dry grass alongside the lonely road.

"Wait! Where are you going?" she said.

He tested a couple peaches on the nearest tree. "They won't miss one or two."

They were just beginning to blush. But hard. "Not quite ripe yet," he said. "Do you mind?"

"No," she sighed. The yellow of the hazard-lights pulsed on her face. Daylight was fading.

He picked the two and tromped back.

"Okay," she said. "Now what?"

"What do you mean?"

"What are we going to do!?" she said, exasperated.

"We're going to get out of the car. We're going to set this ratty towel on the hill over there, and we're going to eat our crunchy peaches. That's what we're going to do."

He reached out his hand.

"Come on," he said.

Reluctantly, she took it.

On the hill of their little overlook, he smoothed everything out. She plopped down and forced a bite.

"Good?" he said.

"Not really."

"Have to agree with you there. Maybe we can come back and break down in two weeks or so."

"I'll pass."

As she chewed, he leaned in towards her neck with his lips, but she scrunched and blocked him.

"Hey!" she said.

"Sorry," he said. "Sorry. But your skin reminds me of peaches."

"Oh please...."

He went for it again, making it a little farther.

"Are you kidding?" she said, holding him off. "No way!"

"Can't I kiss your neck?" he said.

"No!"

"Just one little one?"

But she fought less hard when he tried again.

"You're not smiling, are you?" he said. And his lips finally landed where he wanted. "Mmmm. That's better."

"You're crazy," she said, half laughing.

"Definitely."

He laid back and took a big breath.

Pollen-rich air. A blush of red-orange on the clouds.

"You know this is a pretty good spot," he said.

She laid back too. "Why?"

"Just think of the infinite little actions and reactions to land us in this very spot at this very moment. All those infinite things leading to something so pretty."

She thought about it. "I think I'd prefer the infinite actions and reactions to land us where we were supposed to be going," she said.

"But maybe we were going here," he said. "Or here."

He turned and his kiss found willing lips.

When he pulled away, his hand lingered along a rise at her low neckline. "You know, we should move to the country."

"There's nothing to do out here," she said.

"Oh?"

As he proved her wrong, a mockingbird spooked from a nearby tree and beat wings across the canvas sky.


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