It wasn't enough that he was self-centered and selfish, sometimes Barry Cranston acted downright arrogant. Certainly his younger girlfriend Cherie knew this. They had an off and on relationship, which at the moment was off. Barry had passed the fourth decade with not much to show for it other than his skill as an electrician. He liked soccer and was a fairly good cook; in fact, that was what intrigued Cherie in the beginning, that and Barry's outdoorsy, thick hair good looks.
Often Barry would shop in the local organic grocery store to further his cooking endeavors. He frequently wandered the fresh produce section looking for inspiration, buying squash and fruit or fresh basil for his favorite bruschetta. That was where he came across an older arthritic woman, rather hunched over, rummaging through the Fuji apple section.
"These are good eating," she ventured to anyone nearby enough to hear. Barry glanced around for a friend, and seeing no one, he answered her.
"Yeah they are, and they’re consistently that way. Sometimes the red ones, you can't rely on them."
"That's right mister!" the woman confirmed.
Eight days later, Barry ran into the same elderly woman again close to the red onions. He actually brightened a bit seeing her, surprising himself. This time, he said the first words, "When I cook, I like to use the sweeter red onions."
"Me too, although I don't cook much anymore. Still, just mushrooms and onions sauteed, suits me fine."
"You must live nearby, I saw you here last week right?"
"That's true. You're not gonna come rob me are you?"
Barry didn't know whether she was joking or not, and he felt tinged with what could only be called dismay. Barry offered, “No no, I live just around the corner from here; not good doing that sort of thing."
"You never know. I don't trust strangers."
They jousted like this for a few minutes, and Barry somehow felt he was defending his integrity, which he was. He thought of Cherie saying, "Sometimes you come across as a suspicious type."
He didn't want to come across that way with the old woman for some reason, to this charming lady with the intense orange flecked brown eyes. Something compelled him to be understanding and gentle with this woman.
"I'm Barry, and you must be? He had framed it wrong.
Not missing a beat she answered, "We'll I must be June!"
They chatted more and suddenly Barry said he'd be back on Saturday morning to buy ingredients in order to cook a special dinner for his girlfriend; for which he hadn't yet called regarding this, nor had he any idea if she'd be willing to anyhow. For an instant he felt a wash of guilt that he had deceived his new acquaintance. But he did want to see the ol' gal again. That's why he awkwardly spurted the fib. Of course why would June return so soon just because he was planning to.
"Maybe I'll see you then, on Saturday, " June pronounced.
On Saturday that's just where June pushed her walker, the produce area of the Natural Foods Emporium. Barry spotted her reaching in the organic carrots, and after greeting her, she soon asked about his girlfriend; whether she had a job, a family, how long he knew her and more.That someone was so interested in his doings warmed him, so much so that he found himself offering to give June a lift home.
"Well, I won't get in any car with a stranger, quasi or not, but if you'll take my groceries, the juice is heavy... I suppose I can give you my address because I really don't have much, you know, by way of belongings, so...”
Barry followed her as she inched along the pavement pushing her walker, suddenly realizing the effort June had expended by just showing up at the grocery store. He was touched by this, and that guilt returned because of his earlier deception about his girlfriend and dinner. Maybe he was self-centered.
When they arrived at the small cottage he immediately saw it needed painting. But what he didn't see right away was behind the house. She said folding the recycled bags, "Here, let me show you something." She led him to the back door and opened it. Stretching out before them was nearly half an acre of land, only part of which was planted. A tiny vegetable garden of three tomato and three or four eggplants, a patch of flowers, mostly marigolds and roses, and some fruit trees dotted around.
"Zow," exhaled Barry, "That's a lot of land to use. Are those plumb trees?"
"Yes and yes those are. Been thinking about this since the second time we met. You can see it's much more turf than I can handle, so, I was wondering if you want to plant some tomatoes, maybe some squash or melons. It's still early enough to plant."
"I could use some seedling starts," Barry agreed without realizing he was, "And come after work to water."
"The only thing I want for using my garden, is to come out here and pick some of your results," she winked.
Barry came over every day for the next month, planting, watering, tending. He relaxed and enjoyed himself chatting with June about nearly everything. He confessed about his not really having a date with Cherie, but June didn't mind; instead she encouraged him to call her and tell her about the big garden. So he did call her, and right away she said how he wasn't sounding so tense anymore and he told Cherie about how he met June and the big garden. Cherie exclaimed impatiently, "She’s a good influence, I don't care where you met her!"
As Barry's tomatoes and yellow neck squash grew and ripened, so too did Barry's awareness of how other people felt, and his empathy blossomed like June's fruit trees in spring. But by late September, June had developed a bronchitis, coughing endlessly, so it wore her out. It quickly turned to pneumonia.
Barry brought by extra blankets, and while he was there he made her hot tea; he felt her fore head and knew she had fever. It rained and thundered coming down in sheets. June looked pale and gaunt. "I think you need a doctor. Let me take you, there's a clinic on Spool street not seven minutes from here. " June grimaced and shook her head, coughing and gasping as she pull the blankets higher.
“June listen, I've used it myself." He didn't tell her it was for a migraine headache. But it did change her mind. Eventually June got better from the medication, but was never again as strong as she was before. Somehow Barry sensed this, causing his more regular visits.
He began to call her every morning, just a quick exchange to hear June’s voice answer. “ Hello Barry, I’m a-okay.” or “Hello Barry, gonna rain today, torrents they say.”
One morning in late February with heavy frost, she answered brightly, "I had a great night’s sleep. Feel good for a change. Don't bother visiting today, don't need a thing."
"Good to hear, but I visit on Wednesdays."
"No need dear."
But, Barry saw through this. He quit work early, eager to confirm his suspicions about June's cheeriness. He arrived at her house and she wasn't breathing. He called 911, and pumped her chest, blew in her mouth. But she was gone. After the EMT's took her body away, Barry drifted out and sat in big garden.
He had made a simple bench for June last summer, for her to gaze out on the vegetable plants, trees and flowering bushes while he pulled weeds or watered. But he hung his head now, hands to face and wept.