God is fair, pluots are delicious.
“I need to adult, I need to figure out my Roth IRA and all that stuff. I have my TSP, you have TSP too, you don’t touch it right?”
“Umm…”
Kristina glared at me.
“I may have dipped into my TSP.” I grimaced.
“What? How! Why?”
“It was after my dad died. I didn’t give any fucks, I needed money.”
“But they don’t let you touch it until you’re -”
“They penalized me 20%.”
“But wait, your dad…you weren’t in the Navy yet.”
“Oh shit, you’re right. It was right after Engeline died. Everyone in my life keeps dying, I’m losing track!”
Kristina laughed and winced and I laughed with her. When we composed ourselves she looked up and stopped.
“Look Chris! It’s a — is it a peach?”
I peered up at the fruit. “No it’s a pluot!” I exclaimed. “I used to eat these all the time in the Lemoore they’re so good!”
Kristina was already analyzing the low hanging branches. “You know what they say, if it’s over the fence it’s yours for the taking!”
I giggled with support as she jumped up. She managed to get 3 juicy pluots and we continued our walk through the West Sac suburbs, slurping on our winnings.
She pointed at the ground to another mysterious looking fruit. “Is that a fig?”
“Hmm this I don’t know. Do figs looked like wrinkled ball sacks?”
She squinted at the tree.
“These are figs! Hold this.”
She handed me her phone and squatted like she was prepping for a long jump. She missed the mark, and got into the squat position again, arms stretched out behind her.
“Higher!” I shrieked.
Kristina stopped mid jump, distracted by my useless moral support. We doubled over hysterically. After passing another house with even riper pluots tumbling over their fence, we walked home looking like we had come back from the farmer’s market.
Everyone was dying, but I had a best friend who could jump really high for fruit. God is fair.
