Object: Mushroom
Location: Border Crossing
The Search for Sustenance
Synopsis: Jenna July has a new boyfriend who just might be the answer to her ticking biological clock; that is, if he doesn’t drive her crazy first.
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Jenna July sat in the passenger seat of her boyfriend’s 1999 Ford Escape, dying a slow death. She breathed the humid Florida air into her lungs while his monotonous voice droned on about the pH balance of her drinking water. Jenna didn’t know the pH balance of her drinking water and she didn’t care. What she did care about was that she was three months shy of her thirty-fifth birthday and two months into a relationship that made her feel terminally ill.
“Did you hear what I said?”
Her subconscious mind picked up the slight inflection of his voice and she tore her eyes away from the passing traffic as they zipped up I-75 headed towards the Georgia border.
“Sorry, I must’ve been thinking about our adventure.”
Marley smiled crookedly. His cheekbones protruded sharply against tight skin. His name and his waist length dreadlocks gave him an exotic flair. But his real name wasn’t Marley. It was Otis. Otis Dontrell Raynard. His dreadlocks were mostly extensions braided into his hair. And he wasn’t from the islands, unless you counted Staten Island, New York.
“Excited to go mushroom picking, huh? You’re finally coming around.”
Jenna’s hand squeezed the plastic container of green goo that he had prepared for her that morning. She’d offered to pour the blended concoction into her own water bottle but the idea was immediately rejected.
‘That bottle’s not BPA-free,” he’d said.
Last month, when he’d stocked her cupboard with quinoa and millet, she reasoned that she was lucky to have a guy so concerned with her health.
“In time, you’ll eat only raw like me,” he’d warned.
Now she asked, “Why exactly are we going into the woods to pick mushrooms? I’m sure the grocery store has a decent selection.”
He turned down the volume of the New Age CD. She wondered why the air conditioner had to die instead of the CD player. Marley played the music to heal her chakras. Jenna didn’t know she had chakras. She certainly didn’t know where her chakras were; and if her chakras weren’t bothering her, why did they need healing?
“Babe” he breathed deeply, “I told you that they contain polysaccharides that have immune boosting properties.”
“And polysaccharides are…”
He peeled his eyes away from the light traffic and rolled them towards her. “Large chains of molecules built from sugar molecules.”
It sounded like a question.
“Oh, right. I forgot,” she replied, embarrassed that a part-time yoga teacher at a senior citizens’ home and occasional server at Tea Time could be so much smarter than she, an accountant.
The steaming rays warmed her skin until sweat bubbled on her face like the juices of a roasted turkey sliding down its backside. She ducked her head out the window as they passed the sign that read, Welcome to Georgia.
“This is it,” Marley said while guiding the truck onto the shoulder of the highway. “The border.”
“Why look for mushrooms here?”
“’Cuz the guys at work said this is where they happened to pull over when they went exploring and it was a goldmine.”
Jenna looked into the brush. She’d never been in the woods before and despite the fact that it was Saturday morning, her stomach clenched.
“I’ll get the stuff out the trunk,” he offered.
Jenna considered the thick smoothie in her hand.
How many women can say they have a boyfriend who cares for their health as much as Marley does mine? I should feel privileged that I have a guy who drags me through Chinatown to fetch Chinese herbs or makes me brownies that don’t require sugar, eggs, flour or even heat, for that matter.
Nevertheless, Jenna slid the container beneath her seat and reminded herself to ditch it later.
Marley returned with two pairs of yellow dishwashing gloves, two plastic grocery bags and a bat. On unsteady legs, Jenna dragged herself from the truck.
“I think I see one over there,” Jenna pointed with a quivering finger.
Like a child on Christmas morning, Marley rushed to the spot and plucked up the brown, spotted mushroom with bare hands.
Jenna became light-headed at the sight of the ominous looking fungus. She’d had food poisoning before from a salad. She still remembered the stench of her uncontrollable retching.
“How can you tell if a mushroom is poisonous?”
He shrugged, “We can cook them before eating.”
“But you’re a raw foodist.”
“Huh,” he replied. “That’s a good point.”
Apparently, he had remembered the polysaccharides but had forgotten the toxins.
Lines appeared between his furrowed brows.
“I don’t think they’re poisonous.” His voice was weak and uncertain. “I’m going to find more.”
Jenna swallowed the guilt that rose in her throat.
“I can’t do this with you, Marley. I’m sorry.”
“You’re telling me that you don’t want to pick mushrooms now that we’ve come this far?”
“What I mean is,” she hesitated for a second before continuing, “I can’t do this.” She used her finger to point to each of them. “Next thing you know you’re going to have me eating grass.”
“What do you think is in that smoothie?”
No more men who care about my health, she vowed.
“Take me home, Marley.”
He shook his head defiantly. “We’re still picking mushrooms.”
She matched his stubbornness by kneeling down and fastening the shoelaces of her sneakers.
“Nice knowing you…” she added spitefully, “Otis.”
He turned away, violently swinging the bat as he ventured into the woods.
Jenna looked up the road. She was at the border crossing. About a mile or so ahead was a Visitors’ Center. There were three short-term goals that started her feet moving.
Water.
Rental car.
Drive-thru.
She decided that should the pesky biological clock begin to sound in her head during the long, hot walk, she would sing aloud until the noise quieted itself.
But to Jenna’s great surprise, the clock was forever silent.
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