Coming in Second to a Bunch of Fruit

To an event, I was asked to bring “fruit.”  It was stated that simply.

To me, this translated to a box of strawberries.  Or, perhaps, a bag of grapes.

To Paul, this meant we were to bring a large, elaborate platter of the biggest variety of fruit possible.

It’s as embarrassing to me to come in to a family party with an offering I consider to be over the top of what is expected as it would be to Paul to come in with a simple box of strawberries.  But there was to be no compromise.

We set out to go to the store to buy fruit. I thought we could take the much more comfortable car for this supposedly short jaunt.  Paul said no.  He always took the van shopping.  I soon found out why.

While pulling out of the driveway, I started to express my thoughts on the matter.  I in fact suggested we just get a box of strawberries.   He stated that cherries were also on sale, and suggested we “see what they have.”  In my mind, this meant we would get strawberries OR cherries, or some other alternative.  Or, I should say, I hoped.

I went on to say that “fruit” is my least favorite thing to be asked to bring, because it seems like the item most expensive to buy and hardest to prepare.  Unless, of course, you find something simple, like—a box of strawberries or a bag of cherries or grapes.  

It dawned on me as we headed down the street that Paul intended to do much more shopping on this trip than just gathering the necessary fruit offering, and I expressed that, following my run, I wasn’t really up to a big trip. Following Paul around a store while he deliberates on the fancy meals he wants to cook and checks each item for quality can be wearying.  He works hard to provide quality meals and to get the best buys, and that takes time and effort.  I appreciate this, but don’t particularly like to witness it.  I told him that I had only wanted to come along in order to have a say in the fruit choice, and to see that his choice wouldn’t be too expensive or involve too much work.

He said, “That sounds controlling.”

I apologized.  But I know him.  

I determined, for the sake of harmony and in order to not be a drag, to set aside my weariness and be a good sport.  I didn’t mention it again.

Paul speculated aloud that perhaps we could also bring some kind of cream cheese or sour cream  sauce to either dip the fruit in or spread over them.  I did not encourage increasing the project to that level of work, and, fortunately, he dropped it.

In the (first) store, Paul put four packages of blueberries into the cart, then went to sniff the cantaloupes.  He decided that they were not ripe enough and forewent them.  He loaded the cart with cherries and grapes in addition to the vegetables he was picking up for our dinners.  By the time he moved on to gather three mangoes—which he knows I don’t like, I could see that I had lost.

“I see you are going for the platter idea,” I commented.  He confirmed that, but pointed out that he had skipped the cantaloupe. A sacrifice for me, apparently. Our son, who was along for the ride, suggested a pineapple.  Paul added it.

I asked what I could do to help, and he suggested I pick out the apples for our family use.  “I want to get Fugis,” he said, “because they are sweet and on sale.”  My son and I went over to the apples and loaded a bag with enough for our family for the week.  Paul later added bags of two other kinds of apples, but I surmised correctly that these were not for the fruit platter.

Looking at the amount of work Paul was making for himself, I also correctly surmised that any time together later was going out the window.

We moved on to a second store for watermelon and strawberries.  I stayed in the car.  Paul came back with two watermelons and four boxes of strawberries.  

To be fair, he did envision some of this fruit being for family use.  When I got a look at the receipts, I left out one watermelon and three boxes of strawberries as I added up the twenty-six dollars (not including tax) this fruit platter cost us.

After dinner, he set to work on it.  I had other things to do, and was not about to help him.  It took him an hour, and he went to bed exhausted after.  But it turned out to be monumental, spectacular, impressive—exactly what he, as the best family cook ever, wanted it to be.  

I woke up in the night thinking, “I just came in second to a bunch of fruit!”

I tried not to train an eye of triumph toward Paul when we saw that several other people had also been asked to bring fruit, but, in the end, I was wrong, because it turned out that that much was needed.

Still, I hope we have not cemented for ourselves a new role as fruit bringers--not a role I want to be type-cast in.