“What do you think about covering the front bed in zinnias?”
It’s the first Friday of spring and Mary is sitting at the kitchen table, cheek resting in her right hand, leafing thru a garden magazine with the other hand as Jo pours hot water into the French press, filling the space with the rich scent of a dark roast.
“I think zinnias are always a good idea. Remember last year? The Purple Prince variety?” Jo replies.
“Oh my god yes…Jesus loved those. They made us call them Purple Prince all summer.”
Jo chuckles as he stirs the grounds and hot water. Mary loves watching Jo in the kitchen, especially during his coffee rituals. The ease that emanates from him as he grinds the beans, measures, steeps.
Jo by Jo, Mary muses.
As if he heard her, he pours some coffee into her favorite mug (it reads “HAIL MARY, FULL OF DISGRACE”) adds a little sweet cream and sets it next to her magazine, eyes crinkling as he gives her shoulders a little squeeze.
As he turns back to the press, Mary grabs his arm and pulls him down by the front of his t-shirt into a deep kiss.
“Thank you for the coffee, honey. What would you like to plant this year?”
Jo wraps his arms around Mary from behind her chair, chin resting at the top of her head, as he thinks before replying,
“Let’s do some Purple Princes for Jesus. Some more roses for you. And begonias.”
“Begonias? I love begonias. But why begonias? I thought you were going to say radishes…you’re a slut for radishes.”
“OH def add radishes to the list. Radishes are angel veggies. Mmm…pickled in vinegar with some dill?”
[Gets lost in radish dreaming.]
“Jo…the begonias?”
“Oh yeah! Begonias because they love coffee as much as I do!”
“You’re going to…feed the begonias coffee?”
“No no. Well, kind of. I read recently that begonias like a lil coffee grind in their soil. Rich in nutrients. I like the idea of making coffee in the morning for both you and begonias.”
“You’re the goddamn dream, Jo, you know that? Begonias for my man, comin’ right up.”
They spend the rest of their Friday morning sipping coffee down to its dregs, browsing the begonia section of the magazine, debating between the “torch pinks” or the “mocca yellows.”
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