Dreadful Sorry, Clementine

Toni’s mother Janice stands in the juice bar entrance with an incredulous stare for her only child; her only child who expresses disillusionment with selling clementine-centric desserts to customers. The snow outside that compounds itself into tiny mountains scattered around the neighborhood pales in comparison to the chill that blows through the room. For fourteen years, the job and the requirements therein have gone uncontested on Toni’s end. For fourteen years, Toni has maintained a pseudo-pleasant demeanor while she and a revolving door of two other coworkers fixed fresh-squeezed clementine-themed desserts which ranged from clementine ice cream to clementine soda. Now, on the eve of her thirtieth birthday, Toni withstands feigned hyperventilation and tears from Janice over the adult decision to leave. 

“Toni, this is the first time in my life that you’ve disappointed me,” Janice whimpers as if she’s been stabbed from all sides and trudges toward the counter where Toni has yet to undo her folded arms. 

Toni’s coworkers scramble to fix desserts for customers who step around the two and watch the drama in their periphery. One customer sips on a clementine smoothie and watches everything unfold from behind her phone. Another leans against the counter and alternates between recording the conversation with his phone and biting into the clementine snow-cone. Toni’s disinterested eyes are transfixed on her mother’s sorrowful eyes, unaware that the exchange is now recorded by a handful of nosy patrons and onlookers outside with their faces pressed against the snowy glass. After a while, the coworkers bend over the register with their phones pointed as every rebuttal is met with cartoonish expressions as instigators do. 

“Mom, I’m sick of clementines. I’m sick of clementine soda, snow cones, smoothies, cupcakes, everything. I hear the song “Oh my darling, oh my darling, Oh my darling, Clementine” and I wanna vomit,” Toni exhales with furrowed brows as she saunters to the exit blocked by Janice’s outstretched arm and quivering bottom lip. 

Toni pauses and it registers the two are the center of attention for an audience of what appears to be fifteen people. If she anticipated such a reception, she would have worn her clean low-tops. Jokes aside, her animosity toward clementines attracts a solid amount of witnesses who didn’t expect a familial spat but gravitate toward it since it’s taking place. The last thing either person asked for is to be low-hanging fruit for a thirsty public which now includes police officers on a routine stroll around the neighborhood. Instead of repulsion though, Janice soaks up the attention and leans into the concerned mother role to the point where it shifts from serious to parody. 

“I did my best for you and this is how you repay me? With a knife in my front and my back?” She emphasizes each word the way a child might step downstairs step by step with an inadvertent melodic rhythm. 

Toni whips around and twists her face into confusion. Why is Janice intent on this pronounced, multisyllabic speech? Why did this graduate from one person’s grievance with a menial job to everyone’s fascination? Virality doesn’t interest her given her well-documented disdain for smartphones which makes this lounge-act improv confounding. The fact that all of this would happen on her birthday is enough to make her explode or collapse which happens instead. 

“I didn’t betray you, Mom. I decided to forge my own path in the world for the first time in what is now thirty wasted years. I don’t wanna waste thirty more here.” 

The sea of “oohs”, “aahs”, and other onomatopoeia leads Toni to grunt, groan, and huff one after the other. Once she unties the apron and tosses it over the counter, Janice releases the most exaggerated gasp she has the misfortune to hear. If Toni won’t bathe in this fifteen minutes of fame, her mother may as well be showered in it. It’s most likely the reason why there’s an outsized version of Janice where the blubbering one was a few minutes ago and why the patrons and onlookers take sides in favor of either one. 

“You think you wasted your life here? Fine then. Move on with your life and leave your mother behind,” Janice leans backward over the counter with a dramatic sigh, “You dress like a teenager with your ripped jeans and messy sneakers and you expect the real world to embrace you?” 

Toni scans herself from head to toe and begins to shake at the comment but part of her clenched fist and gritted teeth body refuses. It's not an uncommon jab; a desperate attempt to fatally wound someone's pride or esteem when all other options are expended. Regardless of intent, Janice leaps for the jugular and Toni can't afford to turn tail now, not with about thirty people's eyes hungry for the next move. 

“At least I dress closer to my age,” she blurts out and with each step for Janice, she is flanked by a choir of instigators, “You and your ye olde English maiden skirt sweeping the floor. This ain't the 1600’s.” 

Janice recoils against the counter as if the final blow has been struck. The room blurs and the cheers for Toni are muffled. This was fun and games, at the height of excitement and viscera for her, from the jeers to the vocal support but now, reality sets in her chest. Janice's heart races until the world around her falls away and she blacks out. Toni “wins” but at what cost? 

Janice regains consciousness in a hospital bed and a clementine cupcake with a single candle pressed into the middle is at her nightstand. Toni struts in and the two of them exchange tears, brittle voices, and shaky apologies. With everything that transpired between them today, they press their heads together and chuckle the problem away. Janice lifts the cupcake and sings happy birthday to Toni then giggles, “I thought you hated clementines.” 

Toni nods and stares out into the wintry day. 

“I do but if I don't interact with them often, I'll be okay. However, if I don't interact with you often, I won't be okay.” 

Toni blows out the candle, slides it in her pocket, and strolls back to her mother with half the cupcake gone. Janice cackles at the half-cupcake that remains and helps herself to a bite of it. The two of them grip each other's hand and squeeze in the day's only peaceful moment for them. 

“Oh my darling, oh my darling, Oh my darling Clementine.” 

“Mom, no.” 

“You are gone and lost forever.” 

“Please don't.” 

“Oh, my darling Clementine.”

Toni attempts to wrench her hand from Janice's and they both giggle until Janice is checked out of the hospital.