Several miles away, thunder rumbles, warning the town of another downpour. A red sedan parks outside a grocery store. A young child, Riley, hops out, her blue sneakers missing a puddle.

A voice behind her says, “Hold on a minute, Riley. Don’t go inside without me.”

“Okay, Mom.” She answers back.

Once Janet catches up, she and Riley walk to Gulliver’s Groceries together. At the storefront, ads display a mascot man in an eighteenth-century costume pointing out deals on fruits.

The automatic doors slide open and shut as Riley and Janet approach. They see an employee switching out used carts for clean ones. Janet takes a new cart and gestures for Riley to come closer.

Inside the large store, customers rush back and forth, attempting to avoid the bad weather looming outside.

Mother and daughter continue walking until they reach the produce aisle. Janet comes to a stop, and pulls a small notepad and pen from her bag.

“Okay, there’s a sale on summer fruits, so we can get those.”

A twinkle enters Riley’s eye. “Are you going to bake that dessert again?”

“Only if you grab them for me.”

Quick like a jackrabbit, Riley dashes over to the fruit display. She selects a bag of lemons with both hands, places it gently in the cart, then grabs a container of raspberries.

“I checked to see that the berries are fresh.”

“Good work! Now let’s head over to the cereal.”

When they arrive, rows of brightly colored boxes, lined up on the shelves, greet them. Riley instinctively picks out three cereals.

Janet sighs. “We’re not buying Flaky Frosties anymore.”

Riley looks up, and a crestfallen expression forms. “Right, I forgot about Dad.”

She looks at the cereal box in her hands for a moment, then places it back on the shelf. As she does, large raindrops drum on the roof above.

Janet pats the girl’s head. “It’s okay, sweetie. Let’s check out the dairy. I need one gallon of milk, a pack of butter, and coffee creamer.”

Riley adds these items, along with squeezable yogurt packs. Then, together, they move to the baking aisle for flour and powdered sugar.

“Careful not to crush the berries.”

“I know, Mom.”

Riley gently sets the raspberries in the cart, making sure they are placed in a corner far from the lemons to avoid squishing them.

“Okay, what else do we need?”

Yet Riley doesn’t answer. Instead, she keeps her gaze lowered and scuffs her shoe against the floor, listening to more raindrops rapidly pelting the roof. Janet, unaware of the rain’s growing intensity, walks over to her daughter and kneels beside her.

“What’s wrong, Riley?”

Riley grips the cart’s handle. “Mom, is Dad mad?”

“No, honey. He’s not.”

“Then why is he gone?”

Janet sighs and turns to face her daughter to regain composure. “Well, you see, people fall out of love with someone they once loved. Then they decide to go their separate ways.” 

“How could Dad not love you? You’re wonderful.”

Despite herself, Janet laughs. “He still loves both of us, just differently now.”

“Huh?”

“Okay, take these raspberries and lemons. How are they alike?”

“Hmmm, they’re both fruits with a sour and tart flavor.”

“Exactly, and what makes them different?”

“One is a berry; the other is a citrus fruit similar to an orange or pomegranate.”

“Bingo! Now, picture your father and me as these fruits in a smoothie.”

“Okay.”

“If you were to try that, how would it taste?”

“Pretty sour, even with lots of sugar.”

“Haha, of course. Imagine us mixed as the recipe I make. What does that usually taste like?”

“It’s delicious.”

“Correct! It’s like that. Your father and I attempted a smoothie; the result was tart. As a result, we’re making a loaf cake, and it’s turning out better.”

“So, you don’t hate each other?”

Janet beams. “No way, Riley, we love each other differently now. And we love you.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

As Riley smiles and hugs Janet, Janet’s sadness dissolves into relief. Caught in their embrace, they don’t notice the rain outside fading to a stop.

 * * *

A few days later:

Now, under a clear sky, a blue car pulls into the parking lot, and Riley hops out of the back seat.

“Wait for me, Riley!”

“Okay, Dad!”

Paul, slender and red-haired, exits

“How’s it going, kiddo?” he asks.

“I’m great. Mom is too.”

Paul sighs in relief, his palms sweaty from nervousness. “That’s good. I want you to know that, um, well….”

“That you and Mom still love each other, but in different ways?”

Paul looks amazed. “Yeah, how did you know that?”

“Mom taught me it. Sometimes people don’t get along in one way but do in another. Like raspberries and lemons.”

“So, she made her loaf again?”

“Yeah! We saved you a piece for when Mom picks me up on Sunday!”

Paul smiles. “Thanks, Riles, you’re wonderful and so is Mom.”

“Do you mean it?”

“I cross my heart.”

The warm grin on his daughter’s face eases Paul’s nerves

As Riley fetches a cart from the row near the store entrance, Paul watches her and takes a deep breath. He then plucks up the courage to pull out his phone and text Janet: “Thank you, Janet,” adding a lemon emoji. He receives a thumbs-up and a raspberry in reply.

Editor: Lucy Cafiero