Fall banana stories

kzachar1 ooh that’s a God idea, lemme write that
Autoplay OFF   •   10 months ago
One, two, three


Krystle Zachary

Smushed up all

over her chubby face

Her hands squeezing and smearing

Her first solid food all over her tray

So cute, so pure

I laugh and spoon her another.

She struggles

To peel it

Her hands stronger than before, but they're unaware on what to do.

I slowly teach her how.

Start from the top, peel down,

One, two, three.

Her eyes sparkle like dew in the morning

She throws her arms around my waist.

"Thank you, big brotha!" Her sentiment is muffled in my shirt

And I pick her up and take her to preschool.

Decorated all over her nose

She wipes it briefly, but she doesn't care

Keeps shoving piece after piece in her mouth

The icecream dribbles to the floor

But I don't care

We just talk and laugh

About her 3rd grade subjects.

Slice after slice is what I gently pack in her lunch box

Draw a smiley face on the ziplock bags

She draws a heart next to my "Have a great day!"

And "Don't lose your shine!" notes.

Her friends ask to trade

Her fruit for their desserts

Because they want to go on diets.

She always tells them


She tells me this as I pick her up

From the bus stop

As she waves her 5th grade report card, all A's in the air.

Slowly spooning and plopping it

Back in the bowl

I watch her play with her dessert

But not putting it in her mouth.

I talk and talk, but she doesn't laugh and talk

As she usually does

I peel everything myself

From the top, one, two, three

But she just folds her arms on the table.

I'm almost done eating.

Then she says,

"No one asked me to Homecoming."

And she hops out of her seat

And leaves,

Her 6th grade report card, full of C's,

Flutters to the floor.

I place silver spoons

In the icecream,

That I placed

15 minutes ago

Waiting for her to come home

So she can gossip about

Her 7th grade teachers,

Her friends, her favorite subjects.

Maybe I should add more to this split?

More fudge? More cherries?

No. Not cherries.

She only has one favorite fruit.

I glance at the sundae.

It's starting to melt.

I wait and I wait

I make the same creation

In different ways.

In circles, in cubes, longways, wideways.

She says stop stop stop.

But I can't stop.

"It's your favorite," I say.

"Yeah, when I was a kid," she says.

"It will just make me fatter," she says.

"I'm supposed to be pretty," she says.

When I go to her room

One day to fetch her 9th grade project she forgot

(Which never happens)

I almost slip and fall

From all the glossy shiny covers scattered in her room

Filled with shiny, glossy models

Cosmetics are everywhere

I leave, trying to convince myself

That at her age

All of this is


One day she doesn't come home.

I wait and wait, her icecream a full puddle,

Her favorite fruit slices sliding away

I slip on a peel

I forgot to pick up.

I fall.

Tears rush in my eyes

But I clamber to my feet

Throw on a coat

Go to find her.

It doesn't take me long to find her

She is barely recognizable

But I know my sister--

She is on top of a car,

She has her hair teased up

Her skirt barely brushes her legs

She looks like she's only wearing a bra as a shirt...

Boys jump around her

Like monkeys

Reaching to touch her.

She is swaying to the loud music that's playing

Her bright red lips

Are latched on

Her favorite fruit,

I have never seen her eat it like that.

She does it over and over,

The boys are hooting.

Her eyes are suggesting.

But I look closer.

A cry for help

That I have not noticed for the past few years,

Are present on her made-up face.

It all makes sense now.

I stride over, yank her from the car,

Roar at the boys to go away

Yank the banana from her nail painted fingers,

Hearing it splat as it falls between us.

"You are more than this," I say quietly.

She glares at me with her new look.

She throws a cuss word,

Not at me,

But at the ground.

She throws her arms

Around me

Like she used to do at 5.

And she whispers,

"I'm sorry."

She starts crying.

I hold her close.

She smells like Hawaii and cigarettes.

"Banana split?" I whisper.

She shyly lifts her head.

"Yes," she answers.

I drape my coat around her, to cover her up

She gratefully accepts.

And we order two ginormous banana splits

And we eat and eat and eat and don't care that the icecream

is landing more on the floor than in our mouths, since we are too busy talking and laughing

And we both peel our bananas, start

From the top,

One, two, three

And we throw the peels


So we don't slip

And Fall.

Thanks guys for reading my story! Hugs and kisses. For more fun stuff, follow me on Ig: writerandreader1

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