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She’s small, waif-like, this girl/woman who stands by the freeway onramp with her American flag vest and her bags of oranges. Black stockings below that vest. Legs like straws. No. Legs like those sticks they use to stir coffee.
Cars whiz past her outstretched hand to catch the yellow leaving me with a red light. I lean out the window of my car and offer her my uneaten scone. She doesn’t smile, a small hoop through her bottom lip, her words mumbled. “Oranges. Cheap. They’re good.”
“No thanks,” I say, and extend my arm, shaking the napkin-wrapped pastry. “For you. I haven’t taken a bite.”
She backs toward the black-and-white left-turn arrow planted in the cement and glares at me. An impatient horn bleats, the light now green, so I shrug and head down the onramp and into the stream of commuter traffic. Somewhere between Glendale and Burbank, the oranges girl steals into my head, her big eyes, huge charcoal smudges like those kids in the prints my grandmother used to have in her bedroom, no older than fourteen or fifteen.
Then I’m exiting the freeway at Olive and heading for my office where I write food copy: Tangy and Delicious. 100% Fat Free! Like oranges. I slip my key card into the slot for employee parking, the yellow and black arm lifts, thin like her body, and decide to buy some oranges from the girl on the onramp — no matter how much citric acid blisters my mouth.
***
Women who get divorced at forty and have no children usually adopt cats. I have goldfish instead, less maintenance that way, orange fantails named Flip and Flop, in a twenty-gallon tank. They’re glad when I get home from work and dust their water with flakes. Individuals both, better than cats. Tonight, while I eat my lamb chop, I watch them circle the tiny castle in their bowl and wonder how many oranges that girl on the onramp has to eat before her lips begin to pucker.
***
The bags are $3.00 per, so the next day I give the girl five bucks. She hands me the oranges and digs for change. I wave her off. She frowns. I toss the heavy bag onto the passenger seat. My car smells like Jamba Juice.
***
Beyond my little balcony, the sun deepens to coral. I sit at my table and eat a bagel with melted cheese for dinner. Sip some wine. Watch my fish. They’re chubby, yet graceful with bubble lips. I wonder how Flip would feel about a lip ring. If I’d had a daughter, would we have fought over piercings?
***
The following day, I buy more oranges. Six bucks for two netted bags, no discount. She takes my money and tromps off to peddle her wares to the people behind me, not even a thank-you. Well, I think, that’s it for me, but still I watch her in my rear view mirror and notice the hole in her stocking.
When I get home, I throw the sacks onto the kitchen counter. Now I have a couple of dozen oranges. I turn on Jeopardy. Alex’s voice follows me through the condo, quizzing me with answers. I ask, “Who is Britney Spears?” from the toilet. “What is Oliver?” from the kitchen. I grab an orange, rip off the peel. Eat. Juice runs down my chin. The taste is slightly bitter. Later in bed my tongue worries the sore spots.
***
Sunday afternoon I visit my mother at her three-stage living facility — independent, assisted, total care. She’s in assisted now that she’s fallen twice and broken her arm and wrist. I bring US magazine and oranges. She wants to talk Angelina Jolie and the selfishness of adopting foreign-born kids when so many American babies have no place to live. I’d rather talk about how Brad Pitt deserted Jennifer Aniston the same day Ian left me. I help my mother work out who at the home deserves her wealth of fruit. She orders me to bring more.
***
On Monday, the girl isn’t at her spot. The twenty-dollar bill I’ve brought to buy more oranges stays curled in my cup holder. I fret that she’s sick or thrown into juvie and later at work, I find myself pondering milk cartons and wondering why they don’t put pictures of lost kids on them any more. Who is out there to report her missing anyway? Me?
***
My condo’s 1400 square feet with a large alcove and closet off the entry. The alcove is stacked with boxes. If I get rid of them, there’d be room for a futon. My mother calls to tell me every one at the retirement home wants See’s candy instead of fruit. I feed the fish and turn on Jeopardy. Ask the TV, “What is a sin of omission?”
I dream Brad Pitt leaves Angelina for me and we adopt the onramp oranges girl or we try to adopt her, but then Brad goes and sleeps with her or Britney Spears, or maybe both. I can’t remember.
***
On Tuesday, the girl is back. I watch as she lifts a bag of oranges into the cab of the truck ahead of me. The signal changes from green to yellow, and the guy in the truck takes off without paying. Asshole. I could make the light too, but I stop instead. Horns blare. I lift the twenty-dollar bill out of its nest. Offer it to the girl. She snatches the money and starts to shove sacks of oranges at me, one after another.
“No. No,” I say. “I’m paying for the truck driver.”
Those dark eyes penetrate mine, her skinny arms relentless until the bags crash to the pavement, break open, oranges rolling and bouncing into the street. A horn shrieks behind me, the light goes green, and I hit the accelerator.
My car lunges forward, plump oranges grinding and smashing under the tires and then I’m yelling “Sorry. Sorry,” as I descend onto the freeway.
Gay Degani has published in journals and anthologies including three editions of The Best of Every Day Fiction. Her stories online can be read at Smokelong Quarterly, Corium, LITnImage, Night Train, and 10Flash, as well as other publications. Pomegranate Stories is a collection of eight stories by Gay. She is the editor of Flash Fiction Chronicles and staff editor at Smokelong Quarterly. She blogs at Words in Place.
This story was sponsored by
Stories for Nighttime and Some for the Day, now available from
Penguin Books.
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62 Responses to “ORANGES • by Gay Degani”
Comments
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July 26th, 2011 at 1:16 am
A very powerful story.
Good job!
July 26th, 2011 at 1:54 am
Absolutely superb. One that will stay with me for a long time.
July 26th, 2011 at 1:57 am
I enjoyed the quality of writing. The ending left me a bit disappointed at first, but it made me thinking about the characters even after I stopped reading. So I guess it worked.
July 26th, 2011 at 3:31 am
enjoyable, but I found the switching between scenes very distracting.
in first paragraph you should say what you mean directly: is it a girl or a woman. don’t mislead us about the legs and then change it without reason.
liked MC and oranges girl – felt sorry for her.
wasn’t sure of sex of MC.
fish is good metaphor, but what can be gleaned about life from the other strands about being in the flat? I didn’t find that bit interesting.
good writing well done
July 26th, 2011 at 4:17 am
Beautifully written. The frustration of this character is so troubling…in the best way.
July 26th, 2011 at 4:40 am
Nicely done, Gay. Superbly written.
July 26th, 2011 at 4:52 am
Though it deals with the common place in plain view of ordinary people, this is a haunting story. The girl, the oranges, the apartment, the fish, the mother, Brad and Angelina, the MC’s breakup coinciding with Brad’s breakup—all conspiring to pin the tenuous psychological terrain of the MC and her sense of loss. My applause and adoration, Gay.
July 26th, 2011 at 5:10 am
I loved the fresh, different feeling of this story. You captured the MC’s loneliness with images of others. Very well done. Left me thinking.
July 26th, 2011 at 5:22 am
This reads like a well-written diary; a slice-of-life that was intriguing because I’m not American. If it were about an English woman I would find it dull.
July 26th, 2011 at 5:42 am
This is easily the most accomplished story I’ve read on here. At first I thought ‘…oh dear, another pretentious, modern-life-is-rubbish…existential nausea…blah blah piece’, but I was wrong. Rather, there was a delicate, slow revealing of a character that felt real, and thus in whom I could invest. In showing us her scatty musings on trivia (i.e. jeopardy, goldfish, oranges), you made me hear the echo of her empty life…bloody well done.
July 26th, 2011 at 6:07 am
I enjoyed the clear characterization throughout of the ragged orange seller and the woman whose inner life she inhabits. Your use of the color orange floated through the story, just like those goldfish. Lovely! So I visited your blog to find your definition of the writing process. Great! I’m at the “making up” stage . . .
July 26th, 2011 at 6:22 am
Just wonderful. *****
July 26th, 2011 at 6:48 am
Wonderful, very visual. It reminded me of a short Indie film!!
July 26th, 2011 at 7:01 am
Good poems and good stories gently, or sometimes not so gently, grab our shoulders and force us to experience a bit of the world that we don’t often see, or, more often, choose not to see. This story is a jewel – as we hold it in the light we see so many different things, but it is all connected. Lovely.
July 26th, 2011 at 7:06 am
Enjoyed this story a lot. I did, however, envision the MC as a man until the opening line after the first break. That jarred me a bit.
I found it interesting how the MC’s life and the girl’s life were so much more alike than different. Both alone, living lives that were less than fulfilling, and yet both forging ahead without asking for special treatment or mercy. It hits a chord because that’s what a vast majority of people do: They just make the best of things. The girl’s refusal to take the money without the exchange of the oranges at the end visualized this perfectly. Well done indeed.
Five big stars under an orange moon for this one…..
July 26th, 2011 at 7:31 am
Very vivid and I loved the narrator’s thoughts. I really enjoyed this.
July 26th, 2011 at 7:36 am
I love the way you turned that from the incidental to the particular to the personal and with the inevitable spillage that occurs when we interfere.
July 26th, 2011 at 7:55 am
The start was strong. Despite a few clunky sentences and confusion about the gender of the MC, I felt compelled to keep reading, imagining what this could build toward. But by the end I was… bored, I guess. Not because of the content or technical writing ability, but because the pulse of the story felt flat-lined, the voice monotone. It was a like a roller coaster in the sky where, sure, the height alone is compelling at first, but a land-bound roller coaster would be more interesting as it at least went up and down.
I’m not a firm believer in the rising action to climax to falling action to resolution EKG blip of a story pattern, but I do feel something has to change, or momentum created, a sort of strip tease with the reader where you pull them to the edge of their seats, then give them a chance to catch your breath. This story felt flat. A very high level of flat, but still flat.
I felt this was another in what plagues ‘literary’ short fiction these days, where everything is highly competent and skillfully crafted and feels like something really great is going to happen, that never does. Just amazingly well written pieces that don’t really go anywhere, that don’t really tell a story (more like highlight a situation using really good language). Like those kids you see who are musical savants and can play any piece by ear with precision, but lack all soul.
Being so strongly written is a feat unto itself, though, so four stars from me. And maybe it’s not fair to judge a piece on potential of the writer, but for me the compelling story here wasn’t so much this actual piece, but more about the writer and the potential for great stories, not just good. This was good, maybe even very good, but I have no doubt we’ll see great from this writer (maybe already, will go have a look).
July 26th, 2011 at 8:01 am
Wow, such a rich story, Gay! Loneliness and connection, mother-daughter relationships, real and imagined, the murky origins of our good intentions, and the way things done with what appear to be the best of intentions can nonetheless have unhappy outcomes. Engaging complexity from such a brief story. Great job!
July 26th, 2011 at 8:14 am
I liked this a lot because it made me think so much. It is a brief story, but it raises great questions, and I for one loved the ambiguity of the ending. My favourite bit was the mum telling the daughter to bring candy instead of fruit next time. Great
July 26th, 2011 at 8:29 am
This was an *excellent* story. The way you described the location of the orange girl mad this story feel like it was set in another world I dsperatly *needed* to be a part of. I was sad when the story end because I wanted to know more. Five stars.
July 26th, 2011 at 8:41 am
Fantastic story and deeply moving. I think that the line that sums it up best is the seemingly throw away line “What is a sin of omission?”
July 26th, 2011 at 8:55 am
Simply beautiful. Full of soul.
July 26th, 2011 at 9:00 am
Beautifully done Gay. A five from me.
July 26th, 2011 at 9:04 am
Thanks everyone for commenting here. And I’m thrilled that some of you will go looking for some of my other work. And thank you EDF for continuing to have faith in me.
July 26th, 2011 at 9:16 am
Nicely done, Gay.
July 26th, 2011 at 9:25 am
Love this, Gay. Love how the MC doesn’t seem to realize how much she identifies with orange girl, how much the two of them mirror the same disconnectedness and aloneness. You also dramatized the MC’s disconnection so elegantly, all the mundane details she uses to distract herself as she lives alone with two orange fish, and it was especially effective to show how MC and orange girl couldn’t really communicate with each other well, either. Fine work. Five oranges.
July 26th, 2011 at 9:36 am
Sweet piece of work, Gay.
July 26th, 2011 at 10:11 am
Gay!
I love this story! What a congruous and smoothly flowing voice!
The beautifully crafted and uber detailed descriptions of settings and action run as if I were leaning at the window, watching in-progress life happen before me. And the emotions so palpable, precious, and plausible placed both in and in between the lines invite me to take part in and surrender to them. Thank you very much!
Peace & Plot,
bbg
July 26th, 2011 at 10:26 am
Nicely done, Gay. The way you paint the inner angst of our main character contrasted against the bits and pieces we get of the orange girl is masterful.
I felt the ending was a little hectic but I got the feeling that was very intentional. I also get the sense the orange girl is a bit of an eccentric as well.
All in all a nice slice of life that lets us peek into the mind of someone who in many ways could be any of us.
July 26th, 2011 at 10:37 am
The narrative voice is raw, strong and compelling. The different threads in this tight piece are masterfully woven together. Well done, Gay.
July 26th, 2011 at 11:04 am
Really loved this — such a strong sense of who these people are and the worlds, both inner and outer, they inhabit. Great stuff!
July 26th, 2011 at 11:06 am
I love the disconnectedness that runs through this, the images of Brad and Jolie, people we will mostly likely never meet, the mother in an assisted facility, the oranges girl who gets ripped off by the trucker and the last image of the oranges getting driven over and crushed. A remarkable feat of writing. Five stars from me.
July 26th, 2011 at 12:10 pm
What a great story. Poignant. I loved: “I’d rather talk about how Brad Pitt deserted Jennifer Aniston. . . “
July 26th, 2011 at 12:21 pm
I was so happy to see this was today’s story, i didn’t even know one was coming out! Goes without saying that i love this story, i saw this and just put my headphones on to block out the world around me and just soaked up every part of it.
if i was to offer any criticism, it was that i thought it was a man until you outright said it’s a woman. But, whatever. It’s an amazing story as always gay and a pleasure to read.
July 26th, 2011 at 12:25 pm
What a great read! I love how connected the MC becomes to the orange girl, how she can’t stop thinkging about a person who is invisible to most drivers on the onramp, and how she sees a part of herself in the orange girl. Thanks for a thought provoking read.
July 26th, 2011 at 12:27 pm
What a great read!
July 26th, 2011 at 1:23 pm
One of the best-crafted short stories I’ve read in a while. Knew you as the ed of FFC, but never thought about your merits as an author – well, more than merits, this one deserves a distinction. A BRILLIANT read, Gay.
July 26th, 2011 at 1:53 pm
Loved the freeway/urban feel of this piece, all choppy and alienated.
July 26th, 2011 at 2:29 pm
Thank you so muuch for the kind words. I really appreciate them since I knew going in that the “story arc” itself is slight. What fun this was to write, so I love that so many like it.
July 26th, 2011 at 2:48 pm
A compelling story that drew me in and the urban setting and details are so relatable for so many, including me. I am honored to know you as editor and friend, Gay. Congrats on your publication here.
July 26th, 2011 at 4:19 pm
Everything about this story mesmerized me. I felt drawn to both these women, who, in their strange ways were alike in their aloneness. There is a darkness to this story despite that I felt California sunshine all the time here. Deeply written, and beautiful. The unexpected ending jolted me the way all good fiction should end.
July 26th, 2011 at 7:45 pm
This is a beautiful citrus. Tangy, sweet, and difficult to ignore. Well done.
July 26th, 2011 at 7:51 pm
The author has many fans here–I hope to be counted as one of them. I liked the juxtaposition of the oranges girl and the narrator and how, in many ways, their lives were similar. The ending was a jolt, and a surprise, but in retrospect, okay with me. It fit the piece.
I caught that the narrator was a woman in the beginning. I mean, not to be sexist or anything, but how many guys hang out the window at a red light, waving a scone wrapped in tissue paper? It was such a subtle detail, that I had to go back and figure out why I had made that assumption, when others commented that they had to read further on to identify the gender. Nice work. Look forward to reading more stories with your name on them.
July 26th, 2011 at 8:04 pm
I assumed it was a guy based on all the (very well done) noticing/obsessing of her legs, and lips, and body. Part of the strength of the opening was the sense of yearning and urgency. It wasn’t clear what motivation was driving it, yet, but it was present. Reading the intro back several times and I could make a case for it being both a woman with maternal instincts kicking in, or a man with white-knight instincts. It’s interesting how the line between male wanting to go into protect-the-girl mode and woman wanting to go into protect-the-girl mode can be actualized in such similar ways, though potentially result in very different stories, intentions, reactions, etc. I’m glad it didn’t end up a story where the man tries to go super-macho and save the girl, as that’s been done to death, but at the same time I felt that had more potential to go somewhere (probably because I’ve seen it enough to see where it could have gone). The ground where it goes when it’s a woman trying to save or reach out to what is perceived to be a needy girl is newer ground, less trodden, more room for something new to be explored, which is why I was hopeful this would break new ground by the end, but am not convinced it quite got there.
July 27th, 2011 at 1:02 am
There should be a six stars button for stories like this.
Great work Gay!
July 27th, 2011 at 3:53 am
Popsicle, it says straight up it’s a woman.
July 27th, 2011 at 7:29 am
Great storytelling, Gay!
July 27th, 2011 at 9:42 am
Perfect, perfect, perfect! “If I’d had a daughter, would be have fought over piercings?” just breaks my heart.
July 27th, 2011 at 9:43 am
What Liz said. A six star story, one of the best I’ve read here. So many layers. Brava, Gay.
July 27th, 2011 at 11:03 am
Yes, M. Sherlock, I realize that. By my referring and discussing the ‘opening’ I was talking about the opening scene, well before the gender is revealed. But thanks anyway and sorry for the apparent confusion.
While I have anyone’s ears (as my own are burning) I’d like to recommend reading “Dani-Girl’s Guide to Getting Everything Right” that is linked through Gay Degani’s blog under ‘fiction online.’ It’s really a great story (not the only one, just one I particularly enjoyed).
July 27th, 2011 at 11:05 am
I guess I just have to say this–I am not a fan of literary writing which seems like excersizing just to be buff.
I think there is some great writing here–but I don’t detect a heartbeat.
July 27th, 2011 at 11:36 am
I love that we learn so much about the narrator through her reactions to the “oranges girl.” Beautifully done. And beautifully sad too.
July 27th, 2011 at 12:02 pm
This is truly remarkable, Gay. Beautifully done. I love the switches between scenes — they’re like small subtle nuggets that draw us into the life of the narrator.
July 27th, 2011 at 12:56 pm
Magnificent – one of the very best I’ve read at EDF. Congratulations, Ms. Degani.
July 27th, 2011 at 2:30 pm
Superb. I thought the breaks were used to great effect, giving us a textured portrait of the MC’s life.
July 28th, 2011 at 6:12 am
I loved this, thanks Gay. The breaks gave the story space to grow without using words.This is one of those stories that you8 can relate to no matter in which part of the world you are in; and it is heart breaking…
July 28th, 2011 at 10:27 am
Beautiful story. So Californian with all those oranges and on-ramps. I love that the girl seems so disgusted with the MC and her lifestyle when really I think the MC dislikes herself and her own lack of impact and disconnection with the world.
July 28th, 2011 at 1:09 pm
As always, great read, Gay!!
July 28th, 2011 at 4:25 pm
Wow. Thank you for writing and sharing it.
July 31st, 2011 at 6:22 am
Wonderful piece, Gay. Keep rolling them oranges! Five stars.
August 1st, 2011 at 6:58 pm
I want to know what happened to her. I feel like adopting her myself!! June