Sweets For the Sweet

         Gwendolyn sat alone at the corner table of the Pit Stop Coffee Shop. She was concentrating deeply so as to not disturb the caramel design atop the whipped cream that adorned her mocha supreme grande. She deliberately sipped steadily through the peppermint candy straw and resisted the urge to bite down. Restraint was the key, she knew, if she wanted to save the best for last.

         Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Marcie and Virginia Baker enter the shop. She quickly looked away as Marcie joined the line to order while Virginia surveyed the tables. Gwendolyn held her breath, but it was no use. Marcie was already heading toward the table next to hers. She braced herself.

         “Hey there, Gwendy! How’s tricks? Mind if we park it next to you?”

         Gwendolyn went on sipping, now hurriedly, without regard for anything other than getting out of there as quickly and as cleanly as possible.

         “Oh, honey,” Marcie quipped, “you’d better slow down before everything going in comes right back out again.  What’s your hurry anyway? Doesn’t look like you’ll be starving to death any time soon.”

         Gwendolyn gave a lukewarm smile toward Marcie, the folds of her face forming a mask of upturned creases.  The two girls looked away from each other, disgusted.

         “I have to go.” Gwendolyn stood, miscalculating the space left between her chair and the table. The table gave a loud protest as her mug toppled over, falling onto the floor with a resounding crash.

         “I’m sorry,” Gwendolyn bumped several tables in the pathway to the exit, afraid to focus on the stunned expressions aimed at her. It was a scene she’d been part of so many times before, it’d already left an angry scar on her soul.

*    * *   

         When Gwendolyn made it back to her apartment, she bolted the door and went immediately to the refrigerator. It took her several minutes to choose a bottle of water over the liter of cream soda.

         She crossed the room to her desk and started up the computer. She pulled up pictures and stories of every big, successful woman she could think of. These were her role models. They were wealthy and famous. They carried their weight as if it were their golden ticket to the best life had to offer. Didn’t the Baker girls realize it was what was inside that really mattered? So many models were plus-sized and unashamed. She’d like to see one of them insult Lizzo and then pay the price.

         Who was she kidding.

         The screen before her blurred as tears welled in Gwendolyn’s eyes and slid down her cheeks. When her nose began to run, she hoisted herself out of her chair and went back to the kitchen. She grabbed paper towels and then the liter of soda. After blowing her nose and wiping her face, she faced the computer and typed the words, “Pain-free ways to kill yourself.”  Then she uncapped the soda and drank.

*    * *

Was that a knock at the door?  Gwendolyn couldn’t be sure.  She’d been adrift between her thoughts and a deep despair that engulfed her so that she felt paralyzed. Turning her head took effort and she had no idea how long it was before she was able to force herself to a standing position.  She shuffled her feet and stood at the front door. She listened intently, and then unlocked the bolt. 

On the doormat was a package. She searched her fragmented mind trying to remember if she’d ordered anything. She noted this was a beautifully wrapped box adorned with a red bow and without an address. Gwendolyn checked both sides of the vacant hallway before kneeling to retrieve the box.

She sniffed carefully in case it was a cruel trick, filled with who-knows-what. She shook the box, looking all around for a note or anything that might explain its origin. Finding nothing, she placed the box on the kitchen counter and removed the bow. She lifted the lid. There was a piece of violet paper on top of what appeared to be a box of candy.

 The note read:

“We’re sad to see you down and blue,

That life has no safe place for you,

You think that love has passed you by,

Your next step now is not to try.

But before you take that one-way ride,

Here’s something that you haven’t tried,

Within this box lie truths revealed,

Lessons learned and wounds to heal.

We encourage you to take a bite

So you’re the one to set things right.”

Gwendolyn read the note again. It didn’t make any more sense to her the second time.  Who’s the “we” and where did it even come from? 

She set the note aside and removed the cover. What lay inside were a dizzying assortment of brightly colored confections unlike anything Gwendolyn had ever seen before.  All her doubts and inhibitions left her once she inhaled and recognized several aromas at once.  Peaches, strawberries, chocolate fudge, vanilla crème, caramel, butterscotch, orange marmalade, and more, all wafted through and around her senses in a delicious crescendo so enticing, so strong, any lingering resistance simply melted away.

She dipped a hand into the box and brought a random treat to her mouth.

*    * *

“Morning, Granddad!”

        “Why, good morning, early bird. You’re just in time.”

        “I am?”

        A four-year-old Gwendolyn clapped her tiny hands together. Mornings with her Granddaddy meant one thing.

        “How many would you like?”

        Gwendolyn held up both hands with fingers splayed.

        “Ten!”

        “Well, let’s see you count them out then.”

        Her grandfather, in striped pajamas and navy-blue robe, lifted her onto the stool next to his. Neatly set before them were two bowls, napkins, spoons, a large green bowl with ripe, red raspberries and a pitcher of cream, moist with condensation. Gwendolyn used a finger to draw two eyes and a smile on the glass.

        “Please pass the berries, Granddad.”

        “Yes, ma’am.”

         “Get the cream ready.”

         “Let’s hear you count first, little lady. Earn your breakfast.”

         “Okay.”

        “Take your time.”

“One.” 

Plunk. One raspberry dropped in Gwendolyn’s bowl.

“Two.”

Plunk.

  “Three.”

Plunk. . .

*    *. *

         Gwendolyn opened her eyes.  She felt lighter. This was a new sensation after eating candy, any sort of sweet. Her entire being never felt better. She bent over the box and chose another piece and brought it to her lips.

*    *. * 

        “Gwen?  Honey, come and meet your little sister!”

        “She’s here? She’s really here?”

        “See for yourself.”

        Eight-year-old Gwendolyn ran to her mother who was holding a bundle in her arms. 

        “Be gentle with her, sweetie. She’s already three months but she’s still tiny.”

        “I told the adoption lady I didn’t care if they had a baby who was missing a finger or anything, that we’d still want her. Is this one missing anything?”

        Gwendolyn’s mother cupped her daughter’s chin and gave her a loving smile. 

       “That was so nice of you to say. No, you can count fingers and toes. She’s all there. Who does she remind you of?”

        Gwendolyn was busy inventorying her little sister when she finally took in her whole face. When suddenly the baby opened her eyes, Gwendolyn exclaimed, “She looks like me! How’d you guys do that?”

         Gwendolyn’s father came into the room, a diaper draped over one arm and with a bottle of formula in hand.

         “We got lucky, Gwennie. She’s almost as pretty as you.”

         He passed the bottle to his wife and took Gwendolyn into his arms and lifted her up.

         “There’s only one Gwendolyn though, that’s for sure! No one could ever take your place, and don’t you forget it.”

*    * *

         Ten-year-old Gwendolyn eyed the offerings before her. The school cafeteria ladies in their hairnets stood at the ready, ladles in hand.

         “What looks good, girls? Or, more precisely, what will it be today? The chicken or the sloppy joes?”

         “Could I take two jellos instead?”

         The ladies looked at each other, as if seriously considering her proposition.

         “Tell you what, how about I give you this lovely, crispy chicken leg and a serving of carrot sticks. Then, if you eat those, you come back for jello. Deal?”

         “You sound like my mom.”

         “Everyone’s your mom at this school, sweetie, in this town. We want you to grow up big and strong. You’re the future, you know.”

         Gwendolyn didn’t fully understand but agreed anyway.

         “Okay. Deal.”

*    *. *

         Twelve-year-old Gwendolyn stood with tray in hand, looking for her best friend, Pamela. She spotted her sitting at a different table than the one where they usually ate lunch.

         “Hey, Pam.”

         Pamela lifted her head to say something, then abruptly stopped. A blonde girl seated across from them spoke up.

         “Sorry, there’s no room here. You’d better sit somewhere else.”

         Gwendolyn eyed Pamela but got no response. 

         “Fine. See if I care!”

         Gwendolyn stormed off and dumped her food in the trash, untouched, then placed her tray on top of the others and ran out of the cafeteria.

         “I hate that you made me do that. Gwen never did anything to you.”

         The blonde girl shook her head. “You’re missing the point. We want you in the club because you fit in. Gwendolyn, I mean what kind of name is Gwendolyn anyway? It’s weird. She’s weird. You’re more like us.”

         “Well, I’m not sure I want to be in a club that won’t have my best friend in it.”

         “Careful. You’re skating on very thin ice.”

         Another girl chimed in, “And you can just forget about ever being popular.”

         Pamela scowled at the other girls, who nodded in agreement.

“Maybe I’d rather drown. Oh well. Bye!”

She got up and went after Gwendolyn, who was nowhere to be found. Unbeknownst to Pamela, Gwendolyn had holed up in a bathroom stall, doing her best to hide her sniffling and tears.

She vowed not to get that close to anyone ever again.

*    * *

         Thirteen-year-old Gwendolyn was waiting under the bleachers for Kenny to get there. She checked the note again. He said 2:30. She was going to be late for math class as it was, but what if he didn’t show up at all?    

         Kenny was good-looking and popular. When he started paying attention to her, Gwendolyn had never been so happy. Her stomach was tied in knots and her mouth was dry, but she wouldn’t trade these new feelings for anything in the world. She couldn’t believe her luck when he said he wanted to meet her like this.

         “Oh, hey, Gwen?”

         “Kenny! Oh, you came! I was afraid . . .”

         “Look, there’s something I have to explain.”

         “Okay.”

         Gwendolyn waited, smiling. 

         “The guys I hang out with . . . I never should have gone along with this. As it turns out, I . . .”

         Gwen felt the butterflies turn to caterpillars in her gut. She tried not to look as sick as she felt.

         “. . .I like you, you’re really cool. I’m just not, I mean . . .”

         Gwendolyn refused to look at him as she ran out from under the bleachers.  She banged her head on an aluminum rafter on her way out and heard snickering. Boys. Laughing.

         She didn’t look back.

         Kenny felt worse than he ever had in his life. He swore to himself to make better friends and to never deliberately hurt another person. The money he would have made had he gone through with giving Gwendolyn her first kiss as a sick joke wasn't worth feeling the way he did at this moment. Poor Gwendolyn.

*    *. *

Fourteen-year-old Gwendolyn snuck downstairs, being careful not to land a foot on any of the floorboards that creaked.  

Once in the kitchen, she opened the freezer as quietly as she could and removed the half-gallon of rocky road ice cream. She gathered a large spoon and retreated to the screened-in porch. She sat in the wicker rocker and listened to the sounds of the night, savoring each scoop of decadence as it soothed her senses and smoothed her jagged edges. Nothing could be better than this.

*    *. *

Gwendolyn was surprised to see there was only one confection remaining in the box. She felt mildly jet-lagged but, at the same time, she was lighter, somehow refreshed. Her skin felt more comfortable to be in.

“Might as well go for it.” She noticed this was the only treat that had no color. It was as white and pure as the driven snow, just like her grandfather used to say.

She smiled at the memory.

*    *. *   

Gwendolyn was in a dimly-lit room. It held the sterile air of disinfectant and she could hear the beeps and buzzes of hospital equipment. 

She saw her mother, sleeping. There was a small bassinette next to her.  

Moving closer, Gwendolyn saw herself as a baby, a newborn. She was also sleeping peacefully.

As Gwendolyn drew closer to the child, she took time to study each inch of this new life. She marveled at the tiny fingernails, the eyelashes, wisps of a hairline.  The smell of purity and complete innocence, absolute perfection, so much more than baby’s breath could impart, though Gwendolyn now understood how the flower had gotten its name. 

Gwendolyn had not been very religious growing up, but she could not miss the spirituality embedded in this moment, this opportunity. She was looking at something divine. She thought of angels.

*    *. *  

Then she was back.

Gwendolyn looked around her.  She immediately stood, tested her balance, then smiled. She took the partial bottle of soda into the kitchen and poured what was left in the sink. Then she went to her computer and shut it down.

There was something going on that she couldn’t contain and didn’t want to. She decided to go somewhere. She was already going somewhere, she could feel it. Or was she going back? That felt more like it. There was something she’d once been that was worth looking at.

Gwendolyn searched around in her closet for her sneakers. It was still light out. A walk is what she wanted, what she needed to clear her head, allow something to settle. She was taken back by just how wonderfully energetic she felt. She’d been reminded of something that mattered.

Once she brushed her hair and grabbed her keys, she saw the empty box where she’d left it. She tucked the note in the box and placed the ribbon along with it. Then she replaced the lid and slid the box under her bed. It was the first time she’d finished an entire box of candy in one sitting and felt only positive feelings and thought only positive thoughts. She looked nowhere in particular and whispered, “Thank you.”

She then began a very long walk.

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