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Epilogue
Caleb
SIX MONTHS LATER
The Stormville farmer’s market was a riot of color, stalls piled with buckets of flowers and vegetables that gleamed through their dirt like jewels. The air was thick with the smell of popcorn and empanadas, and two young women played folk music, standing on wooden pallets at the corner of the parking lot.
It was Saturday morning, and the sun was shining, and Theo was walking beside me, staring absently at the stalls. It had become a weekly ritual for us as soon as the weather warmed up. He wouldn’t say exactly why he loved to come here, since he didn’t cook, just shrugged and said he liked the atmosphere. I suspected that it was something he did because he knew routine helped me feel grounded. He’d ask what I was going to make with the things I bought, and he’d pick out flowers he liked. Sometimes he’d munch on a bag of popcorn as we walked around, or sit in the sun while I talked to people.
Now, his hair loose and shining in the sun, the brim of his hat shading his eyes, he waved at Charisse, the Pepper Lady, who sold pints of fresh peppers and strings of dried peppers and always wore overalls and a shirt printed with peppers.
“You want some strawberries?” I asked, hooking his elbow with mine.
“Yeah, sure.” Theo would eat whatever I put in front of him, but he liked when I asked.
“Hey, guys,” Barry greeted us from behind his stall. He held out a spoonful of something to Theo. “Try this.”
Theo had developed something of a reputation for being willing to try anything last month when Jessie, who usually sold cream and butter, decided she’d try her hand at ice cream. When we’d approached the stand, I’d noticed a few people shaking their heads at us, but in my paranoia I’d imagined that maybe they just didn’t want us there. Jessie had held out a taster cup to us and encouraged us to try what she was calling “butter ice cream.” That’s when I realized the folks around the stand had been trying to warn us away.
I nearly gagged at the thought, but Theo had shrugged and taken the cup. His eyes had gone wide when he tasted it, then his expression turned contemplative. He took another spoonful and cocked his head. “Hmm,” was all he’d said to Jessie. But ever since, people had given him their experiments to try. And it turned out that nearly everyone who sold at farmer’s markets had experiments.
Theo didn’t ask what Barry was giving him, just licked it off the spoon.
“Is it…blueberry?” he asked. I smiled. Theo also couldn’t tell what things were in unfamiliar presentations.
“It’s boysenberry caramel,” Barry said excitedly. “I’m thinking of selling it alongside the jam.”
“Cool,” Theo said. Then to me, while Barry bagged our strawberries, “What’s a boysenberry?”
I smiled at him and brushed some hair off his shoulder. He hadn’t cut it since we met, and it had grown long. I loved to twist it around my fingers while I kissed him, and the way silky strands of it would fall over my chest and face when he was on top of me. Though he was generally oblivious to his own appearance, Theo knew how much I liked it. Once, he’d gone down on me and I’d moaned at the feel of his hot mouth around me as his hair brushed the insides of my thighs, and he’d wrapped his hair around my erection, teasing me with it until I was mad with need for him, then taking me deep until I came down his throat, one hand tangled in his hair.
“Hey, none of that!” I heard Barry yell, bringing me back from my Theo-induced lust.
I turned to see someone I didn’t recognize pointing their phone at us, taking a picture. He was next to Lucy’s herb stall—probably just on a day trip in the area. Lucy’d been selling at this market for fifteen years, and she considered everything that went on here to be her business. She stepped out in front of the young man and spoke to him sternly, though I couldn’t hear her words. Theo slid his hand into mine. The man hung his head and stalked away, and Lucy raised a hand to us. I nodded to her and waved back in thanks.
It had taken me by surprise, the way this community had gathered us up, taken us into it as soon as people had seen that we wanted to be part of it. When I’d first moved here, I hadn’t been able to spare more than a distracted nod to anyone. The first time Theo and I had come to the farmers market, months ago, I’d been nervous that they’d know who I was. I knew they did. Everyone here knew everyone. They’d know where I was living and why. It was just the way of things.
