The Side Effects of Endorphins

A story of your favorite fruit.

Somewhere in Central Mexico

There in the warm summer market, sat a lovely mango, ripened to the perfect firmness. I gently put the mango on top of his shopping bag, along with a few other items I bought from the market in the square. The square was tranquil today; I was deliberate and content. I considered moving to central Mexico for the simplicity and relative low cost of making a living, both of their Spanish were textbook decent, yet they had not yet adjusted to the velocity and tenor of the language.

Before he left, he told Ustina she was more beautiful by the day. He would not be gone long. He said he wanted to pick up some special items from the store. It was their one-year anniversary together and he wanted to get her something to remember this special day. The market smelled of fruit, sweat and spices as the morning heat hung in the air. He took exceptional care as not to bruise or damage the mango on the long walk down the hill from the market. A soft rain suddenly trickled from the heavy sky. The cobblestone streets and sidewalks narrow and dangerous. One must make way for people coming from the opposite direction. Cars and motorcycles occasionally drive the narrow streets. The walk home took all his attention as to not do damage to the perfect mango. He was especially excited, because Ustina had never experienced the pure pleasure of eating a mango. 

When one has had the perfect mango, you at once know. The skin peels perfectly from the soft juicy orange insides. As the fruit melts in your mouth, there is residual that dribbles slowly down your chin. The stickiness endures. 

 

He returned home contented; there would be no damage to the mango. He walked in the house and found Ustina in a good mood. She looked especially today in her white cotton dress. It was his absolute favorite and she knew that. She had a certain bounce to her step; her eyes filled with sparkle as she kissed him slowly. 

As they released their warm embrace, he noticed there on the kitchen table sat a slightly redder mango. Or it could have been a ripe papaya. Her chin was sticky and delicious, yet she only ate half of the fruit. She let the other half sit on the kitchen table.

He looked at her and tried to take in all her beauty at once. He asked her why she only ate half of the mango.

Hey silly, you know better than that, the second half of the mango is the work of the devil or some spirits unbeknownst to me. Have you not heard the stories before?

“My beautiful girl you know those stories are passed down from generation to generation, changed a little bit and the story is nowhere near where it started. I am a man of science and not of folklore.”  Alyosha said as he started dicing some onions and jalapeños for tonight’s salsa. He also started to dice the second half of the uneaten mango. He marveled at the beauty of the mango. He simply could not resist. He ate the second half of the mango while bent over the kitchen sink. He let the cool sweet sauce drip down his chin onto his pearly white T-shirt.

“You foolish man, I don’t know the working of the demons, but you have an unusual way of proving your point,”

“That was certainly a delicious mango. Let us let our anniversary celebration begin.”

They sat out on their favorite room in the house. It was an open room with plenty of flourishing plants and an open ceiling that looked out on the evening sky. It was a beautiful summer evening, and one could hear the gentle roar of the nearby neighborhood. It was a sound of contentment and tranquility. The stars twinkled one star at a time seeming to mark the occasion. They sat and ate the salsa as well as sipping the nectar of the agave plant. A gentle rain fell in the atrium and it hardly bothered them.

With little fanfare, they put their glasses in the sink and headed out to the street. Ustina found it curious as he usually insisted to dishes be done before leaving the house. They both thought they drank more they initially planned. They walked unsteadily as the children next-door played, despite a gentle rainfall and the dark settling in. Ustina wondered where the stars had gone. She noticed the evening fraying at the edges.

They walked slowly up the hill to the toward the center part of town. They played a mariachi band as well as dancers, dressed in colorful garb they twirled and whether it was to the music one could not tell. They stood taking it at all in and enjoying what turned out to be a beautiful evening. There was one dancer with sparkle, blue eyes, and a smile that stood out in the crowd. Aliosha stood transfixed in a dreamlike state of suspension. The wispy dancer, while catching his eye, smiled back at him in a smile that seemed meant for him.

She soon disappeared into the sultry night. Ustina hardly skipped a beat and pushed toward a little watering hole they preferred. Ustina’s rapid pace came to halt when she stopped by an unfamiliar person in the startling brown sombrero, he spoke Spanish and she responded in the best Spanish she could. Alyosha was surprised by how well she spoke Spanish. He was angry but tried to not it shows. Still, it did as there is no hiding jealousy in a man who is full of pride. He let the jealousy build up in him and curiously had no way to let it out. He felt out of his element within his relationship. He had no reasonable explanation. He usually was not the type to be prone to jealousy. But her Spanish was so darn good and the man so handsome.

They sat and had a few beers together in the local dive and there was tension in the air. This was unusual as they were carefree as a couple. Tonight, their interactions were tentative and forced. He should not have eaten the second half of that mango..