Parallel Universe - Malec One Shots and Short Stories in English 🔞

Strawberry Kiss 🍓💋

"Do you really still want to go? There are heavy summer thunderstorms and rain forecast for tonight!" my mother shouts loudly to me from the garden patio as I am getting ready to get my rickety bike out of the garage.

"Yeah, I know, Mom. But today is the last day the strawberry orchard is open. I'll hurry," I assure her and hastily get on my bike. Doubting, I glance at the face of my watch. It's already just before five. It's going to be tight. Once you set your mind to something and at the same time the universe and time conspire against you.

"But we still have plenty of strawberries to snack on," my mother wonders musingly. "Aren't they enough for you?" she giggles now.

I've never been good at making spontaneous excuses, especially not with my parents, who immediately sniff out excuses and white lies.

"Weren't you going to make strawberry jam too? They're not nearly enough for that," I counter urgently, trying to keep my balance on the hard asphalt floor with outstretched feet and toes as I sit on my bike seat, ready to go.

'Why does my mother always have to discuss everything?' Let her be happy that I'm showing so much commitment and not squatting in front of my game console for once.

"All right. But this year, you're going to help me make jam. I don't want to spend hours alone in the kitchen again," she suggests. I guess I have no choice but to agree to this diabolical pact.

"Deal," I reply curtly and with an audible sigh. My fate is sealed.
"Take care of yourself and if possible shelter somewhere as soon as the storm starts. If need be, call and I'll pick you up in the car."

"Oh well, I'm not made of sugar. See you later!" I call out to my mother, saying goodbye and with audible impatience, as I leave our driveway already biking.

Although the summer heat makes my skin noticeably glow, it's the fresh breeze that keeps me from burning and turning to ash. Good thing I'm not a vampire.

The route ahead of me has been irrevocably burned into my memory since last week, so I can freely indulge my thoughts and lose myself in daydreams while my bike finds its way to the plantation all by itself.

To this day, I don't know how my parents managed to get me away from my beloved Playstation and instead persuade me to take a short trip to the strawberry plantation in the neighboring town.

Maybe I was just having a good day, or maybe the fact that my parents were making a fresh start after a year apart made me feel good-natured.

I really hope that Mom and Dad aren't fooling themselves and that their feelings for each other are strong enough to put the past behind them and look positively to the future.

The driving wind becomes increasingly stronger and the rustling of the trees louder. In addition, I see the light gray clouds in the sky steadily getting darker.

I defiantly push aside the thought of the approaching storm and come to a halt with my bicycle on the provisional parking lot, which is merely a dusty field, in front of the plantation.

The last visitors have already gathered with their overflowing strawberry baskets in front of a small wooden hut and are pulling out their wallets.

I hope the man of my dreams is also here today. After all, he was the past week. Every afternoon, I watched him from his hut in front of the strawberry field, as he lent baskets to the many hard-working strawberry pickers in his little teasing wooden arbor. He then expertly weighed them and filled the inside of his cash register.

Today the air is particularly oppressive. Surely sauna-like temperatures prevail in there. He might as well be catering the strawberry stand without any clothes on.