Deferred
Title: Deferred
Author: Amata le Fay
Story: Omni
Flavor(s): Teaberry 11 (what happens to a dream deferred?)
Toppings: Butterscotch, some Sprinkles (baby, then toddler years)
Rating: PG13 for language
Word Count: 1781, 53 of which are Langston Hughes'
Notes: “My dad was an apple salesman. Ever heard of as stupid a job as that?” The story of Tane Pond and the family he left behind.
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore-
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over-
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
-Langston Hughes
*
“Apples?”
“Apples.”
The guidance counselor looked at the strange boy's eyes, which gave him back an even, polite stare with a slight hint of condescension-from the child to the adult, not the adult to the child, as had been typical of these exchanges in the past. But Tane Pond was not typical, nor was he really an adult or truly a child. He drifted back and forth between the two, the transition so fluid that one could almost forget there was a difference, a barrier between them. One could be lost in his hazel eyes and imagine that there was no limit to an imagination, that life could be pleasant as a good dream, that wishing on stars could bring anything. He was a romantic, a hopeless romantic.
The counselor blinked. “You mean the company, Apple.”
“No, no,” said Tane, “I mean the fruit.”
“The fruit.”
“The real fruit,” he said. “Not enriched and enhanced and chemically altered with fibers produced in factories. Apples. From trees. Apple blossom trees. I want to grow them.”
“You kn-”
“-I know non-gov farmland is expensive, but I can get a loan and pay it off with the profits. Don't you think-how much people will realize what they've been missing? Something crispy and cold, and with texture? A non-fabricated fruit after, what, fifty years of synthetic production?” A smile had brightened upon Tane's face. “This is what I want to do, Mr. Desousa. I want to work with apples.”
Mr. Desousa furrowed his brow, then put on a smile. “You have such a great vision, Tane. But it's going to mean a lot of hard work.”
“I know, and-”
“-perhaps you should consider selling apples. The normal kind. At first.” He could see Tane starting to tilt his head and finished quickly. “Just until you know enough of the produce... business... to get your apple farm off the ground.”
“It's an orchard,” said Tane. “An apple orchard. And I'll think about it. Selling apples. An apple salesman...” He chuckled, tilting his head fully now, and once again the boy's eyes flickered and he was off in a flight of fancy. “I'll think about it.”
Tane Pond didn't have a clue what the outside world would do to him. Though, to be honest, Mr. Desousa didn't know what Tane would do to the outside world, either.
*
“Sorry, you do what?”
“I. Sell. Apples.” He leaned forward a bit, catching her eyes and responding with a twinkle in his own. “Why, is that so hard to believe?”
The girl let out a chuckle-just one-before answering. “I dunno, it's just... apples. Only apples?”
“Oh, I sell other produce, too, but apples are the best.” Tane gave her a sidelong smirk, then reached into the pocket of his coat and took out a red delicious, tossing it into the air and catching it before offering it. “For you.”
“Oh, God. I'm getting Twilight in Film History all over again.” Gillian-Jillian?-he didn't know how it was spelled-held it up to her mouth and bit in. Chewing. Swallowing. “It's... it's an apple.”
He laughed. “What they all say, more or less. Now, try this.” He took another from his other pocket. Courtland. His. “Now this, this is my secret weapon and my most very special favorite. This is what I'm not selling you-and believe me, it's killing me every minute.”
“It's good, then?”
“It's to die for.” He held it up, almost reluctant to give it away. “Go on. Take a bite.”
“It's small.”
“Take a bite.”
“And deformed.”
“I'm not saying another word until you take a bite.”
“Well, if you insist, O Apple Connoisseur,” she said with a teasing smile, pressing the fruit against her lips before letting it into her mouth. She bit. She chewed. She swallowed.
“Oh my God, it's tart! And-crisp! And...” She fluttered her eyelids. “Kinda sexy.”
“It's a Courtland,” Tane said. “It cost me half as much as business school to get the seeds. I'm still paying off the loans. I grow them in my apartment, and when I get enough I'm gonna start up an orchard. Courtlands, Washingtons, Golden Deliciouses, old Granny Smiths-” He took her hand as she raised the apple up for another bite. “-and Macintoshes, of course, but they'll be different, they'll be... organic.”
Gillian laughed in between bites. “You're gonna start up an orchard in the middle of Closter?”
“No, no! I'm leaving this city, living a country life, livin' off the fat of the land, baby!” Tane laughed along with her, squeezing her hand-and the apple-a little tighter. “It'll be good. It'll be fun. It'll be... miles and miles of sexy, sexy Courtlands!”
“You're mad, you're absolutely bonkers,” she giggled, pulling him closer. “So, when can I see you again?”
*
“Oh, Beck, this is my favorite one, my very special favorite,” Tane singsonged, bouncing the baby girl up and down on his knee. “Aside from you, of course, my dear, the Courtlands are my faaaavorite baaaabies-”
“You devour your young?” Gillian appeared at the threshold, hands on her hips in mock indignation. “Our young? And here I thought I was marrying a natural father!”
“Hey, just be glad I didn't name the real baby Apple,” he retorted. “Though Apple Blossom Pond is still a good name!”
“It is not. She would be teased.” Gillian glanced at the tops of the trees Tane was watering. “They're getting tall.”
“Yeah. Soon we're gonna need more space.” He reached up and plucked an apple from a nearby branch. “Think we could buy the upstairs apartment and knock out the floor?”
“Tane.”
“No, we don't have the cash to spare, all of it needs to go towards the orchard land-”
“Tane.”
He spun around to face her. “Yes?”
Gillian sighed. “Tane, I got a call from the landlord. We're gonna need to cut them.”
“What! No!” Tane put Becca down on the floor and stepped protectively in front of his orchard-in-the-making. “Cut them down?” His voice was small and hurt, like something inside him was retracting inward.
“Not all of them.” She picked Becca up and walked over to put a hand on her husband's shoulder. “Just trimming the tops a foot. It'll give them more room to grow.”
“But the best apples are at the top!”
“Hey,” she said. “Hey. It's nearly harvest-time, we can pick them now and bake them into a pie! Won't that be fun, Beckie?” The baby gurgled as if in agreement.
“Fine,” he said with a sigh. “But it'd better be one damn good pie.”
*
When he first came in, he was so excited that the only thing that could come out of his mouth was an unintelligible series of squeals. Gillian just stood there, waiting for him to collect himself, and Becca babbled something along the lines of “Dada yellin'?” Tane took in a deep breath, then it all came tumbling out.
“D'Hoffryn found out there'll be a land opening and we have enough to buy it now unless there's an auction!”
“Oh my God.” Gillian ran toward him with a tackling hug. Tane lifted her up into the air and swung her around in glee. “Oh my God, oh my God! Tane!”
“Dada happy!” Becca surmised.
“Yes, Beckie!” Gillian picked up the little toddler and placed her in her daddy's arms. “Dada very happy!
“Yeah. Soon you'll have a whole big orchard to run around in!” Tane was beaming. “In fact, as soon as I hand in my notice we can go!”
The room got very quiet. “Since when were you planning to quit your job?”
Beat. “Well, since always. Running an orchard isn't exactly part-time work.”
“But you're not even sure you'll make money off the apples for the first ten years!” said Gillian. “And we just can't pack up and leave.”
“Why not?”
“Because my life and Beck's life don't revolve around you and your dreams, Tane! This apartment is suffocating us with branches, every landlord we've had before have evicted us, my family is here and yours, too, and I have to stay home with Becca so we only have so much money as it is! We need to stay stable. Please. At least for a little while.”
A long pause. Then: “When you married me, you knew that we would have to do this sometime.”
“Please. Just... not now.” Gillian took Becca away from Tane. “We can't do this now.”
“Then when are we supposed to?”
“Later.”
“Are you just going to keep putting this off?” Tane said, arms crossed. “Putting me off? This is who I am, Gillian! This is who you married, and this is who you're going to have to deal with as long as this marriage lasts!”
She glared at him. “Then maybe this marriage has gone on long enough.”
*
“You ready?”
“Ready.”
Gillian looked into her almost-ex-husband's eyes, then closed her own with a sigh. Dear God, Tane. What am I giving up? Why do I have to give him up? A blink. She could see Becca now, three years old with bright red hair tousled on the top of her head, staring at a Macintosh-the computer, not the apple-instead of either parent as she sat on the couch, legs dangling. This is for you, Beck. The apple trees were gone and the apartment was bright, now in direct sunlight. Don't you ever, ever forget that.
Tane was on the opposite side of the room, alone, him and his dream against the rest of his family. He didn't want to leave. But he had to. He had the land. He had everything he had wanted and yet now wanted what he'd had to leave behind. Apples. They'd better be some damn good apples.
“Just sign and it's official.” Scott Pond handed a pen to each of them. He had become a lawyer. Of course he had become a lawyer. Tane only glanced at him, never giving a full look-there was no need to see the disappointment written across his older brother's face, the silent accusations of you love these trees better than you love your own family which he didn't, he didn't, it was always more complicated than that but there had never been time to explain to them, and there never would be since. Only Gillian knew. Only Gillian understood.
What happens to a dream deferred?