The first, always so amazing. What did I do to deserve this? Its juiciness, its exotic, erotic explosion of color, taste, light, filling the tongue with an indescribable sweetness. With one bite, I am in Hawaii. Back on land, I am in Chico, California. While soft, the mango is not mushy. It’s glorious, gorgeous. Were humans ever meant for such ecstasy? We were, I realize. We are.
The next day, I eat the second mango. Why did he buy two? Today, mildly irritated at the price. Extravagant. $3.19 for the organic, which we must buy, of course. Today, the mango is not quite poisoned, but, unlike bananas, its skin is very thin. Were it not organic, the poison would seep in, eventually killing us. 25 years ago, we started to eat organic, because, at the time, we read an article about fruit. Two apples in the same day would be enough to poison, admittedly not kill, but still poison a child. Takes more apples for an adult. Mango skin is even more delicate than apples.
On the second day, again I put the mango on the kitchen counter. Then I stand over the sink to eat it. Its delicious taste, lessened by the fact that today it is too expensive, too juicy, drippy, messy. It is still sweet, but not as much so as yesterday. The organic skin is hard to peel with a knife. Bits of it stay on the mango–I have to peel them with my fingernails, my nails digging into the delicate fruit itself. Now, I will have to scrape my fingernails. I eat the chunks: small. Still delicious, but not glorious. After I had cut and eaten the chunks, I eat more, gnawing my way toward the seed itself. With my teeth, I scrape the flesh all the way to the bone. I reach the enormous pit of the fruit. Its stringy strands, its irritating remnants, stick in between my teeth. I will have to floss immediately after.
Like bowling, where one game is never quite enough; two is too many. Mango joy and rapture diminished. I tire of scraping my teeth on the seed. It’s an obnoxious, giant seed anyway, almost three dollars on its own. I had still eaten all of the fruit’s flesh, what little there is of it, but I now know I’ve been ripped off. Fucking mango! Why did he buy two, anyway?
