A CRATE OF
PEACHES

                    Susannah hasn't said anything else since. Once the phone call ended, it's like she took a deep breath and swallowed down her cancer until it was in the darkest parts of her, hidden from the light. I can't say I was desperate to talk about it, my brain pushed the information back in an instant. 

    Conrad's unopened text adds weight to my phone, dragging down the pockets of my shorts as it sits. How could I talk to him all while knowing such a heavy secret, but how dare I even think about betraying Susannah's autonomy? She's had enough choice taken from her. 

    Besides, I don't know Conrad well enough for my absence to be a bother to either of us. 

    I dump the box of ripe, red apples onto the table of my Dad's stall. He likes to grow fruit at our house and sell it at the market on the weekends, something to keep him busy and 'sharp' when he's not at work. He's been doing it long enough that the letters we painted onto the shade sail above have scratches through them, the blue bubble letters with white outlining showing the years between then and now.

    As much as Idris Moore pretends not to be bothered by the death of Regina, I know it hurts him. He never had a serious relationship again once she left, as if always holding a space open for her if she wanted it. When she got sick, and I reconnected with her, he was too afraid of their past driving her away to ever reach out. 

    "There's one more in the truck," Dad huffs, slamming his own fruit box down onto the table. He stands straight, flattening out his apron with his stand's logo on it, "Would you mind getting it for me, baby?"

    "If you promise not to eat all of the kiwis while I'm gone," I grin at him. He smiles back, tapping his slightly rounded gut as if to tell me not a chance. I roll my eyes with a laugh, brushing past him and through the stand. 

    The other vendors wave at me as I walk past; everyone at the market is a regular. Most of them are old people filling their days with hobbies that don't put strain on them.

    I retrieve the claw clip from the loop of my jeans, pinning my curls back as the sun beats down on my skin. I pull the truck bed guard down, grab the handle on the crate of peaches and drag it to the edge with a grunt.

    "Here, let me help you with that," A voice offers, a figure apprearing in the glare of the sun as I lift my hand to shield my eyes. 

    Greenish-blue eyes hidden behind dark bags and brown strands of hair stare back at me, a soft and helpful smile greeting me as he reaches a hand out for the box of peaches. He hesitates at first, as if giving me a chance to object. I can't find any words to say, a knot clawing in my gut in the form of silence as he pulls the crate from the bed of my Dad's truck.

    "Oh, it's okay. I can take it, I do it all the time," I finally speak, grabbing onto the guard and lifting it up to enclose the now empty bed. 

    "It's no trouble," He insists, looking down at me as if wanting to say something more, something deeper and more serious than a box of peaches, "Do you have a stand here?"

    "Yeah, uh, my Dad does. Moore's homegrown," I comment, stumbling over my words as I point in the direction of my Dad's stand. I don't know why I'm making things feel awkward. 

    Whenever I'm with Conrad, it's usually easy. A loved one having cancer creates a distinct mould and forces you to squeeze into it. Both of us seem to be made from the same shape. But, maybe Regina's death broke me, and no matter how closely I fit the pieces back together, I can't fit back into that same mould.

    "Oh, I love that place," Conrad breaks my thoughts, both of us turning our backs to Dad's truck and making our way through the crowd of shoppers. He lifts the box slightly, the fruit grabbing my attention, "Best peaches in town," 

    "Yeah, well, don't tell him that," I laugh, moving loose strands of hair from my face, "I've only just convinced him he doesn't need to follow a strict watering schedule anymore," 

    "What do I get out of it?" His voice comes out playful, but the words themselves have me biting the inside of my cheek to hide the redness there. 

    "What do you want? Lifetime supply?" I suggest, nodding my head down to the box of fruit. 

    "There's a bonfire on the beach Saturday night," He begins, swaying slightly with the heavy crate in his hands as we weave through people, "You should come,"

    "Is this you inviting me?" I grin, squinting through the sun to look at him. He nods, allowing me to lower my gaze once I get confirmation, "I don't really do parties,"

    "Me neither," He shrugs, a moment of silence falling between us, "So, wanna come?"

    I snort, looking ahead to watch as my Dad finishes off a banana and throws the peel into the bin beside the stand, "I'll think about it,"

    He only offers a smile in response, both of us reaching Dad's stand side by side. Conrad drops the box into the empty spot on the table, looking down and unaware of my Dad's expression. Dad drags his eyes from Conrad to me, his lip and eyebrow turned up as he nods down. 

    I lift my hand, swiping it back and forth over my throat as if to tell him to shut up and not say anything embarrassing. Conrad stands and turns to me, causing me to drop my hand to my side and force a smile. I cough, holding my hand out to gesture between the two, "Dad, this is Conrad Fisher. Conrad, My Dad Idris,"

    "Ah," Dad grins in recognition, "You're Susannah's boy,"

    I don't miss the way Conrad almost seems to flinch at his mother's name, as if hearing it reminds him she's real and what they went through. Conrad smiles, extending a hand, "Nice to meet you,"

    Dad takes his hand, a quick and formal greeting going on between them.

    "So, what are you doing with my peaches, son?" Dad questions, sounding more like an interrogation. Conrad looks from me to the box of fruit, understanding the double meaning. 

    "Just trying to help," Conrad shrugs, "I should get going though, my mum needs me back at the house," He turns to me with a quick and awkward smile, "See you this weekend,"

     Dad and I both watch as Conrad walks away, disappearing into the crowd and only stopping to grab what looks like flower seeds from Mrs Rita's stand. 

    "This Weekend, huh?" Dad brings my attention back to him. He grabs the edge of the table, a cheeky smile on his face, "What are we doing this weekend, Hailey?"

    "Nothing, Idris," I scrunch my face, moving to join him behind the table and under the shade. I snatch a strawberry from the table, avoiding his hands as he tries to swat me away, "You've heard about his Mother. It's not weird or malicious of him to want to find someone who relates,"

    His face almost falls blank at the vague mention of Regina. But, he wipes it clean as he turns to me with that same wicked grin and lifts a hand to pinch my cheek, "And such a pretty someone at that,"

    "Aw, you're so sweet, Dad," I laugh, pushing his hand away from me. 

    Dad's laugh and general personality have always reminded me of Santa Claus. The big, jolly man with a grey, freckled beard. He used to dress up as the mythical figure when I was younger. He would cover his truck with Christmas lights and drive it through cousins, throwing sweet treats out to the kids while I sat curled up beside him with the biggest candy cane from the batch.

    "He's a good boy," Dad changes the subject, resetting the tone, "As long as there's no drinking or drugs at this weekend event, you'll get no objections from me,"

    "I don't even know if I want to go, Dad," I dismiss, throwing the green strawberry top into the bin, "It's not really my thing anymore,"

    "Hailey," Dad says lowly. He shakes his head as he drops the tea towel he's holding onto the table, moving over to where I stand at the back of the stand, "You've been so lonely since your Mother. It'll be good for you to make friends with people who understand, who won't-"

    "Won't abandon me like all my other friends with alive and healthy Mothers?" I finish his sentence, a sense of bitterness coating my teeth. It's hard not to feel angry at them, even if I wasn't the most present and attentive friend at the time. But, surely, I deserved a grace period or some level of understanding. 

    " And I pray for the Lord to smite the wicked every night," Dad tries to make me laugh, something he always succeeds in. I can't help the smile, my eyes shifting over his shoulder as a customer lines up at the stand and inspects the fruit. Dad follows my eyes, turning around and walking over to offer assistance. 

    Maybe I should just do it. Dad's right, I've been a hermit since Mum died. Conrad has already proven he's unlike my other friends. That understanding between us is valuable. Maybe he needs the comfort of someone experienced just as much as I do. 

    I pull my phone out while Dad packs fruit into a knitted basket, my eyes attached to the screen of my phone. I click on Conrad's unread messages, starting a new text and hitting send before I can convince myself otherwise. 

    I'll see you there.

⤷ 🪸 ⋮ AUTHORS NOTE ༝

okay this chapter is very short and sweet but i more just wanted to introduce haileys dad & get more into the psyche of hailey and the way she connects with conrad bc of their shared experience.

in the next few chapter we get into the bonfire & the conklins arrival in summers and i just wanna say in advance BELLY IS MY PRINCESS if she comes off as unlikeable it's just because we don't have her perspective so hold any serious opinions about any characters till the end 

anways, lmk what you think!