Wild Greens

Bonding

by Robin Brownfield

Tender Spots

by Lauren Kimball

Lost and Found (part 4)

by Myra Chappius

The next day dawned bright, not a cloud in the sky. Sunshine touched everything in sight and set it ablaze. Jo felt the nerves burned off her. This new day brought with it anticipation, a determination of knowing that left no room for anxiety. She dressed comfortably, ordered a ride and sent Ryan a crossed fingers emoji. 

The diner Ethan had chosen was a bit off the beaten path on a rather picturesque road a few miles from the highway. There were only three cars in the parking lot as hers pulled in, and she wondered if one of them was his. They were all pick-up trucks and that had never been the kind of vehicle Ethan would drive. The diner had a fifties theme with a giant guitar in the center of its sign. She could see through the windows that each of the tables had one of those little jukeboxes you could scroll through using a single quarter to make your selection. She always kind of liked those, purposefully picking the most obscure song in the bunch. 

And then, there he was— in the left most window facing the door. It was Ethan— her best friend whom she hadn’t spoken to in over five years. Just there. Jo discreetly crossed herself before pulling the door open. Cool air rushed at her, bringing goosebumps to her exposed flesh before going to battle with the Arizona heat behind her. The savory smell of coffee and bacon reached her instantly, reminding her that she was actually rather hungry. 

Ethan’s eyes found her almost immediately. She recognized him, sure; five years of absence can’t erase nearly thirty years of memories. But the man that sat before her was decidedly changed from the one she once knew. He was much thinner— at least twenty-five pounds— but it looked like it had been taken from more than just his body. His spirit sagged a little— the energy and warmth of the old Ethan didn’t reach its fingers out to her. His expression was somber, he didn’t smile. If she hadn’t experienced it herself, she never would’ve believed that this person had once been capable of running a marathon or climbing the tallest mountain in the Appalachians or making a twelve-dish Thanksgiving dinner. She wouldn’t have believed he could spend hours playing in the sand with four small children or digging in the dirt of his personal vegetable garden. He just looked so… less… than before. 

Jo made her way down the aisle toward her friend. She felt slightly ashamed to be focusing her eyes on the tiled floor instead of his face. Two other tables and a counter stool were occupied, all men. The lone woman in the building appeared to be the middle-aged waitress, who was refilling the cup of the man at the counter from a full coffee pot. She had given Jo a slight nod as she entered. 

It wasn’t until she reached the table that Jo finally looked up again, observing that, up close, everything she had seen at the door was still true. Ethan still didn’t smile. He clutched his mug of coffee with both hands and looked down at them himself as Jo slid into the booth. 

“Ethan,” she said, a little breathlessly. “Hi.” 

Jo’s mind had swirled with dozens of questions, but none of them came clearly to her mind now that she was here. Her eyes fell over her friend— his hollow cheeks, the deeper setting of his eyes, the dark hair at his temples turned gray. Has it really only been five years, she thought? 

He finally looked up at her and all of the anger and bitterness that Jo had felt intermittently over those lost years evaporated like the morning’s dew. She felt tears building behind her eyes the longer she looked at him. One spilled over the edge just as the waitress approached the table, the corner of her white apron held the red vestige of some former stain. 

“Coffee?” she asked. She held the coffee pot, two menus and an empty mug in her hands. 

Though she wasn’t sure she wanted any, Jo found herself nodding in the affirmative as she swiped at her eyes. The woman seemed to understand that something unspoken was transpiring before her. She laid down the menus, poured the coffee and said simply, “Take your time.”

Her entrance and subsequent departure had changed something in the air. Jo was shaken from her trance and that previously held anxiety returned though, luckily for her, in small measure. She busied her hands because that’s what she did when her emotions were threatening to get the best of her. She opened two thimbles of cream and poured them into her coffee, followed by two packets of sugar. Ethan hadn’t moved. 

“Two creams, two sugars,” he said softly, finally speaking. “Same old Jo.”

He looked down at his hands again, the two of them knowing that nothing was the same, not really. Jo put a spoon in her coffee and listened to the tinkling of it hitting the sides of the cup, remembering the hundreds before that the two of them had conversed over. Before her appetite could be lost to her, Jo flipped open the menu and looked over the options. Ethan waited quietly, not touching his own menu. When he could see Jo had made her choice, he motioned the waitress back over. She came with the coffee pot, once again, its contents never seeming to diminish, and refilled Ethan’s cup as she asked, “What’ll it be?”

Jo ordered a Western omelet with a side of home fries. Ethan asked for only some white toast with strawberry jam. She collected the menus in her deft hands and departed. They were left, once more, with only each other.

With nothing left to distract her, Jo felt her scattered questions and emotions reforming. Making eye contact with her friend again meant she could hold back no longer.

She half-blurted, with more acerbity in her voice than she meant there to be, “What the hell happened to you?” At this, Ethan cracked the hint of a smile. There was his Jo, the woman could only hold her tongue for so long. He had been thankful for that a time or two. Life never really got the best of Jo. She never let it.

“It’s a long story.” Her eyebrows nearly touched her hairline. “One you deserve to hear. One you maybe deserved to hear a long time ago and I’m sorry for that, Jo. I really am.” He paused, fidgeting with the cup in his hands, unable to look at her. “It’s been hard.”

“It’s me, Ethan.”

After another moment, he took a deep breath, sat back against the bench seat, and explained the last five years.

Cozy Snowy

by Melissa Lomax