Jo is a Sagittarius. He doesn’t know exactly what that means, but every once in a while Jesus looks at him and says, “you are such a sag.”
This morning, after Jo dropped off Mary’s morning coffee to her bedside, he ran into Jesus at the stairwell (who is sporting a lavender bandana and sparkly purple eyeliner).
“Jo!!! Where is your purple?”
Before Jo could reply, Jesus ran back up the stairs. A bit befuddled yet used to Jesus’s sudden exclamations about color and clothes, Jo heads back to the kitchen to sip his own coffee.
A minute later, Jesus returns with an eggplant-hued, short sleeve button down with cedar buttons and a mustard stripe down the center (vintage Tommy Bahama).
“Here, put this on.”
Knowing it would be useless to protest or question, Jo changes from his sleep tee into the shirt. Once the top button is buttoned, he makes a “ta-da” gesture toward Jesus, who is already buried in the latest Vogue, sipping their coffee loudly.
“Ahem.”
“Oh! Yes. Perfectionnnn. I knew that would look good on you. Jupiter will be pleased. Happy Sagittarius season, daddy Jo!”
With that, Jesus gives Jo a quick hug and leaves to open up the Garden.
As they leave, Jo looks on in affection. I’m so proud of them. I need to tell them that. I will tonight.
With that, Jo moves through the rest of his typical morning rituals. He toasts some rye for himself and mixes up nutty oatmeal for Mary. He checks his email. He fluffs up Holy Ghost’s bed pillows and fills up the bird feeders outside. He heads to his woodshop out back and waters all the pothos plants that live along the walls and corners. Then he tends to his most recent project, a walnut shelf for the Garden’s front counter. He whistles, sands, smoothes, gets lost in the rhythms of carpentry.
After an hour or so, he hears a gentle knock at the woodshop door. Mary peeks her head in.
“I brought you a sandwich–peanut butter and potato chip.”
“You’re an angel.”
“They call me the sandwich ang–whoah! Jo baby…nice shirt.”
“I’ll give you three guesses as to who dressed me this morning.”
“Holy Ghost?”
“Ha!”
“Just kidding. I know my Jesus’s work when I see it. Purple suits you…”
The two lock into a deep kiss, dappled light from the tulip poplar outside the window dancing across their bodies.
“Hey…Happy Sagittarius season. Jupiter is apparently pleased with me.”
“Me and Jupiter have that in common. Sagittarius season, eh?? This calls for a celebration! Should I mix up the olive pate for cocktail hour?”
“AN ANGEL. I should wear purple more often, shouldn’t I?”
Later on, as Mary and Jo enjoy blood orange pellegrinos and salty olives and wheat crackers and the Seratones at the kitchen island, Jesus walks in and promptly spreads some pate onto a cracker. Before they can get a word in, which is hard to beat, Jo says, “Jesus, I’m so proud of you.”
It catches them off guard, and some tears well up.
“Thank you, Jo—dad.”
“You’re welcome. Also…I think Jupiter wants me to wear more purple.”
The next day in his woodshop, Jo pulls his hair back with a lavender bandana…a gift from Jesus.
*In case you’re wondering, Jo is a taurus moon and a cancer rising in my imagination.*
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