Making Lemonade by Michelle McEwen

He was in the fruit and vegetable aisle— standing there like he was waitin’ for me, like he was put in that aisle deliberately. Had to have been ‘cause I know about fruits and vegetables. When he saw me coming, he asked, “Where ‘bout they keep the clementines?” I knew this couldn’t be a coincidence then ‘cause I love clementine oranges and I knew exactly where ‘bout they were kept. I knew it was meant to be then. I had half a mind to put him in my cart, roll him to the checkout, ring him up, bag him and bring him home as though he was on my shopping list. I didn’t have to, though, ‘cause he followed me all around that store and out the store, too. He said, leaning against my car, “You need lemons? I got some at the house I ain’t using.” I just stared at him. Any fool knows if you got lemons at home, you make lemonade. I almost told him that, too. What I did tell him was I could use the lemons and he told me to follow him home. I knew what he was up to, knew when we got there he wasn’t gon’ leave me outside in my runnin’ car while he ran the lemons out to me. I knew he’d ask me in, knew he’d have me making lemonade all day. I ended up staying the night— my groceries taking up the shelves in his pantry and ‘fridge.

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