Annie XCVII: Tastes

The Fosters stayed at a hotel near Uhuru. For the middle of nowhere, it put out a decent spread for breakfast.

Ray and Denise had quickly made their choices and taken over a table for four. Ray had made a second trip to get some fruit for Annie, then made a waffle.

His wife sat in his pocket and smelled the smell of batter baking.

Pet smiled at the sight, Annie in waffle heaven, Ray in indulging-his-sylph mode. Then she went on trying to decide what she wanted for breakfast.

The choices were so different! A grape used to last her for most of a meal. Now she could eat a handful almost without noticing!

And a melon slice! The texture was all different when you could take giant bites.

Then she found an orange. It sat there, smug and fat, watching her from behind a couple of bananas.

She glanced suspiciously left and right. No one else seemed interested in the treasure. She stalked closer. Closer. There was someone making a run for... Ah! They stopped at the toaster.

Their loss, she thought as she cupped the orange in both hands and giggled.

Annie spun around in Ray's pocket at the sound. "Turn, Ray. What's Pet got?"

"An orange," Ray said dismissively. The timer went off and he meticulously removed the waffle from the hot grill.

Annie was twisting around in his pocket. "Don't worry," he said. "I won't forget the syrup."

"Sod the syrup!" Annie snapped. "There's an orange!"

Ray looked confused but went on with his preparations. He refused to hurry merely because a lovely foot was kicking him in the ribs.

"You're gonna get grounded, little lady," he muttered.

Annie froze. "You. Don't. Ground. Wives."

"Ah. Yes, bad habits," he said. "I apologize profusely." He poured syrup generously then walked to the table.

Denise was sqieezing a packet of fast-food salsa over her scrambled eggs. Ray cut up the waffle, then addressed his oatmeal.

Pet was gently rolling the orange back and forth from hand to hand. Annie watched, mesmerized.

After a few bites, Ray looked across the table and caught his first wife's eyes. "Is there something I missed?" he asked.

"Nothing on the morning agenda for citrus follies," Denise replied. They watched the other two. Pet was still playing and Annie was still staring.

"I used to get an orange in my stocking," Annie said softly. Ray and Denise leaned a bit closer to hear her. Pet was busy in her own internal landscape.

"Not a big deal," Annie went on. "Big and fat. Kinda matched the ones in the kitchen. But this one was from Santa." She laughed and glanced up.

"Never figured out why Santa brought oranges TO a Florida home. But he did."

"Huh," Ray grunted, startled. "I never... You'd think he'd have filled up there. Our parents should have showed us the EMPTY orange sack as proof Santa was there."

"Anyway?" Denise prompted.

"Not much else," Annie said. "Before The Day, oranges were everywhere. Lunches, Christmas Stockings, fruit trays. Just stab with your thumbnail and peel and eat. In convenient sections and everything." She was silent for a while.

"And then?" Denise asked.

"Well, after The Day? Those things were in armor. Nothing a little sylphs could carry around would penetrate that shit."

"Well!" The Fosters turned to see a woman at the next table. She was older than most of the guests and very annoyed. Ray glanced around.

There were no children in sight. No one at a nearby table could have been scandalized by the sylph's word choice but the old lady.

"Piss off," he said. He leaned back down. "You were saying, dear?"

She flashed him a quick smile. "You never noticed, if you had a meal with orange slices? I always begged those off of you."

"Pet did, too," Denise mused.

"Mm-hmm," Pet nodded.

"Oranges taste GOOD to sylphs, Ray, Denise," Annie said. "But they're so hard to get to."

"I could have peeled one for you," Ray said. "Any time..."

"NOW you say that," Annie snapped. "When we were growing up, you thought it was too much work, too much sticky mess, not enough reward."

"Ooops," Denise said. Pet nodded again.

"Oh, it's okay, Ray," Annie said. "No one could peel oranges as often as a sylph would want them."

"I could have kept us stocked in orange juice," he said.

She shook her head. "Not the same. Not sure why, but even fresh squeezed and pulpy isn't the same."

"No," Pet agreed.

"Sorry," Denise said.

"Did you notice any taste difference?" Ray asked her.

"No, I... Hey. I don't think I ever ate an orange while I was a sylph."

"No," Annie said. "We knew Ray wanted to take you back, so we didn't want you to get hooked."

"But now," Pet said. "I can have an orange any time I want."

"It's not the same," Annie cautioned her.

"But after a lifetime of wanting," Ray said. "I can imagine you want more than a few."

"That's fine, Pet," Denise said. "We can get you...." She paused and shook her head. "We'll show you how to shop for oranges. Not a problem."

"And you'll share?" Annie asked.

"Of course," Pet said dreamily. The orange continued to roll back and forth. "As soon as I'm ready to peel it."

Ray helpfully moved his butter knife over to Pet's side of his plate. Denise shook her head and moved her spoon. Annie stepped forward.

Then Pet lifted the fruit to her teeth and bit into the peel.

"NYUGH!" she spat, wiping her tongue on her sleeve.

"Pet, what the hell?" Annie cried.

The piss-off woman stood and stomped away. No one noticed.

"Pet?" Ray offered his glass of milk. Pet swished it around and looked for a place to spit.

"Oh, dear," Denise said. She didn't sound surprised.

"Back into the glass, Pet," Ray said. She spat it out. He took it to the sink to pour it out.

"Pet?!" an outraged sylph danced at the center of the table. "Are you out of your mind?"

"That's how Daddy used to peel them," Denise said.

"Eyuck!"

"No, no," Pet said. "Chuck always used to say, it doesn't taste bad, just different."

"How different?" Annie asked in a sarcastic tone.

"Pretty bad," Pet admitted.

Ray returned and started to peel the orange with his thumbnail and the knife. Pet watched his every move carefully. Annie and Denise watched Pet.

Denise stroked her shoulder. Annie stepped up to hug her wrist.

"I'm okay," Pet said. "I'm okay." She looked around the room. Denise held up a napkin.

Pet took it with a nod of thanks and raised it to her mouth. She gently spit and possibly wiped her tongue off on the paper.

Ray finished and offered sections to his youngest wife. She took one and handed it to Annie. Then she took one of her own.

Sylph and former sylph locked gazes and bit down together. Annie hungrily slurped at the sticky insides.

Pet chewed, moving the pieces back and forth in her mouth. "Eh," she said in a near-perfect imitation of Denise's father. "They don't grow oranges like they used to. Now back in my day..."

Denise laughed until she cried. Then they watched Pet feed orange slices to Annie until the sylph couldn't move.



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