A Pear For a Pair

”Grab THAT pear; it looks perfect!”

I was standing on a picnic table in the campus courtyard. A pear tree hung overhead, and Liz McIntosh had pointed out her perfect pear for us to share. I diligently possibly bucked campus decorum and did pluck the luscious piece of fruit. Liz nodded her appreciation and took a seat as I split the pear in half. There WAS something slightly romantic about splitting a single pear between us.

"Tell me about yourself, Kenny."

Our schedules had matched up and I had finally gotten the chance to schedule an on-campus date with Liz McIntosh, fellow First Year, Sorority Pledge hopeful, middle child, Indiana Native, Hoosiers Fan, high school soccer player two years running, natural brunette, and healthy diet advocate. I knew all of this about her because I had quizzed her over our breakfast at Fresh Food. (Okay, so I knew the last part because I had made the mistake of preparing not only my plate but trying to woo her by preparing hers as well with little knowledge about her). It was only fair that, now in the campus courtyard and splitting a pear (her favorite fruit) between us as our SECOND "date,” I reciprocate the favor with a bit of information on myself. I went to recline back on my bench, lost in my good fortune of Liz's and my schedules matching up, until my brain caught back up to me and nudged me that benches at picnic tables traditionally don't have backs to them. I righted myself before I could really humiliate myself by collapsing and rested my hands on the table as Liz and I lost one another in each other's gazes.

"Well, I'm from Michigan." I began, gnawing on the pear. "I guess, besides the Lakers now, I'm the standalone U of M fan in the house."

"Are the rest Hoosiers fans?" Liz needled me, hopefully.

I held that gaze behind her glasses and brunette bangs for a bit longer. She was pulling my leg; she had to be.

"Spartans." I amended. "My mom's...well...her gentleman friend of the past five years was a Spartan baseball player. My older sister spent a year at MSU too."

"Oh." Liz answered, peeling away at her half of the pear. "Your mom's gentleman friend?"

I knew that I should have led off with my two years of football between JV my sophomore year and a junior year on Varsity. Still, it was too late for that and I had to settle for lowkey betraying my mom's sacred home life.

"Yeah; my dad moved out when I was two." I answered casually.

That was true, right? And didn't betray his confidence that he had shared with me barely the day before.

Across from me, Liz nodded as sympathy found her facial features for my tale. She finally swallowed the bit of pear that she had been chewing on.

"That sounds like a tough childhood." she declared. "Have you...I don't know...talked to him since then?"

I hadn't walked into breakfast that morning planning on divulging why she and I couldn't have met for lunch the day before. However, there was something about Liz that drew me into trusting her now that I had had my first "official" on-campus date with her.

"I met him for lunch yesterday, actually; it was...basically meeting him for the first time all over again." I answered. "We had tacos together and talked. He's a...good guy; better than my mom was prone to painting him."

Liz bobbed her head enthusiastically as she was gnawing on another bite of pear. Finally, it occured to me that in all of my talking, I had been studiously ignoring Liz's favorite fruit; and the gesture of splitting one between us was kind of a romantic gesture. I delicately chewed on another bite of pear. The sweet and tart mixture almost made me visibly blanch.

"That's kind of nice." Liz declared to thankfully distract me from the dueling tastes in my mouth. "Does your mom know that you and your dad met again?"

I finally swallowed the bite of pear.

"She knows that my sister has been in contact with him." I answered. "I might call her later today and catch her back up to speed on my life on campus; then I'll tell her."

Liz nodded in understanding.

"So, how did you and your dad find each other again anyway?" she asked.

What else could I do? Liz was so open and so interested in my life and had been so honest about her own upbringing. I told her about the package that I had received upon moving to campus. Once again, Liz gazed upon me with rapt, quiet interest to let me get my story out. In return for her rapt interest, I could polish off the pear half in front of me so that we could say that we had shared that together too. She was a cute young woman from Indiana who liked her fruits and veggies, had grown up in a complete family with three siblings, and had to support her home State Hoosiers; I was a rather homely, stocky guy from Michigan, tried-and-true Maize-and-Blue fan, had a palate for the taste of hamburger, chicken, and barbeque, and came from a broken family with one older sibling who didn't always act like it. My father (and my mother too) had always told me that opposites sometimes attracted. My gaze lingered across the table at Liz for a moment longer and I decided that if I hadn't been attracted to her, I wouldn't have trusted her with the more troubling details. I reasoned that splitting her favorite fruit between us so that we had experienced it together was Liz's way of telling me that she was attracted to me. I could sense the moment beginning to pass until Liz finally found her words again...

"We should...do this again another time." she declared. "You can tell me how the conversation went with your mom, or about another hang out with your dad."

I couldn't believe my ears. She'd heard my story; and wanted to see me again.

"Sounds fair." I conceded. "Saturday afternoon? Oh; and I know this great pie place. It doesn't even have to be on campus."

I could have kicked myself for suggesting dessert, knowing what a dietary advocate Liz was; until her lips perked up.

"I could do dessert." she agreed. "Anything sweet!"

I thought back on the conflicting flavors of the pear. Suddenly, I could appreciate its sweeter side. Liz had just given away her dietary achille's heel and, with that confidence, I could only reason that I had the campus cutie in the palm of my hands...