Forbidden Fruit

         Tiffany paced back and forth about her studio apartment, cradling the phone against her shoulder. As she strode back and forth, the cord snagged a plastic candle holder amongst the piles of bills and prescription bottles, dropping it to the floor. She didn’t notice until the candle rolled across the floor and was nearly squished beneath one of her worn sneakers, which prompted her to kick it under the grimy stove.
         “I…I’m sorry Rhonda. Last night-I broke my food plan! I ate a peach!” As she spoke the word ‘peach’ Tiffany pitched her voice higher, so it sounded more like ‘beetch’. She glared down at the cover of her favorite woman’s magazine, which proclaimed in massive block letters, ‘HOW TO LOSE 40 LBS IN 4 WEEKS!!!’ There were several older, well-thumbed copies of the magazine stacked in a pile on the counter.
         “What?”
         “You heard me. I ate a peach! It looked so good…I wasn’t planning on eating the thing,” she continued before Rhonda could interrupt. “You know I was thinking about making a fruit bowl, I realized it would add to the décor of my apartment, and Bill was supposed to be stopping by last night. Of course the bastard never did,” she finished.
         “Calm down,” Rhonda soothed over the phone line. “Understand it’s not the end of the world. Not a complete break, like when I ate those chocolates. We all screw up, but so long as you learn, there’s nothing to be ashamed about. So what’d you learn?”
         “Don’t rely on men to live up to expectations?” Tiffany fumed.
         “Shoulda known that already, girl!” Rhonda said. “How about, ‘Don’t tempt yourself when you might be emotionally challenged’.”
         “But now that I’ve eaten it, God it tasted so good, I am soooo hungry for carbohydrate. There’s still a banana here, it’s ripe and I can smell it-”
         “Don’t eat that banana!” Rhonda said. “Please, don’t eat the banana. You’ll only regret it. You’ve been good, the last time you broke your food plan was over two weeks ago. Don’t you feel better now, after sticking to it? We all make mistakes, but you gotta get up, like in those sports drink commercials. If you eat the banana, you’re giving in to the fat culture.” In a whisper, Rhonda added, “And you know, Tiff, men don’t find overweight women attractive, so Bill would have even less of a reason to visit.”
         “God Rhonda, I know,” Tiffany admitted. With longing she stared at the banana within the “fruit bowl”, a chipped mixing bowl she’d found covered in dust a month ago in one of the cabinets. With the phone still clenched between her head and shoulder, her right index finger lazily circled the band of white marking her left ring finger.
         “What’s the next day you’re going to the Overeater’s Anonymous meeting? I know I’ll see you on Friday, but if you’re going tonight I could probably make it, so we could talk in person.”
         “No can do,” Tiffany said, now leaning against the table as she stared at the banana, less than a foot away from her mouth. She shuffled her fingers amongst the papers mounding on the table idly, and then said, “I’m working at the gas station overnight, otherwise I’d go.”
         “Too bad your job forces you to sit so long, on that tiny chair. It’s just another cubicle they’ve shoved you into. Maybe you should do some exercises in between customers, butt crunches or something.”
         “They’d probably find some reason to fire me for that. I’m supposed to be watching the people fuel up, so I can save the tape from drive-offs.”
         “That’s horrible. But please, since I can’t see you tonight and it’s so long until your next meeting, I want you to do something for me.” Rhonda paused.
         “You won’t be able to accomplish anything if you don’t get rid of that banana. So right now, Tiffany, I want you to pick it up, and head over to the window.”
         Tiffany picked up the banana, and moved over to the window. Her eyes kept drifting back to the banana for a moment, and then would jump away like they were burning. “I’m at the window.”
         “Good. Your window is open, right? Take that offensive piece of fruit and fling it as far as you can, right out the window! Get rid of it!”
         “Are you sure I should do that? I’m sure I could find someone that would want to eat it, there are starving children in Africa and last week someone begged me for foo-”
         “Throw it!” Rhonda said. “Toss it, you have to worry about your life and that banana is in the way of your goal of a thinner you!”
         “Okay,” Tiffany relented, as an unconscious smile crept across her thin lips. Limply she released the banana out of the window, watching it intently as it spiraled through the air. She flinched when the impact with the ground pulverized the lower half.
         “You should have seen it, Rhonda. You’re right, I do feel better, especially since I can’t smell it so much anymore. Thanks so much, I don’t know if I could stay so strong about my diet without you.”
         “You’re welcome, Tiff. See, what’d I say, I knew you’d feel better about getting rid of it. That’s what needs to be done, when someone or something is ruining your life, you need to get rid of it. And now you can breathe easy. I’ll see ya at meeting on Friday.”
         With that she hung up. Tiffany, the edge of a smile still on her face, walked over and also hung the phone upon the receiver. She turned on the television, watching a talk show for the next ten minutes. It was interviewing men who openly cried because they couldn’t stop eating fast food.
         Her eyes scanned the kitchen. She hummed a bit of some melody, which trailed off to nothing after a scant minute.
         Her eyes found the fruit bowl again. She stared at it openly. Tiffany stood quickly and strode over to the refrigerator, opening it with an exaggerated flourish. Inside the shelves held a water filtering container, some sliced deli meat, non-fat milk, non-fat cheese, and a defrosting chunk of salmon.
         She looked into the refrigerator until the cooling machine clicked on and started to whirr. Slowly, like the heave of some massive magnetic device, Tiffany’s face pivoted to look upon the fruit bowl once again. Her face twitched, the tiniest splash revealing the turmoil below the surface. Her hand fell to her side, and the refrigerator shut itself.
         Her eyes might have held a glimmer of wetness as she went out the front door and went down the stairs. When outside she walked counterclockwise to the driveway, where the banana was attracting flies.
         Without pause she knelt and picked up the fruit. She scooped away the pulp while carefully looking around for anyone nearby. There was nobody. Tiffany removed the undamaged half of the banana and shoved it in her mouth.