Crashing Into Blue

Chapter 3

I'm at the kitchen counter blending up a pink and purple smoothie when over the whirring of the motor I hear someone announce their entrance.

"Darling, I'm home!"

I feel a smile tug at my lips. This greeting started when I was about twelve years old; Samson would spend every waking moment at our house (which he still does) and would only go home for dinner, but then he would come back to watch a movie or play a board game. My mother, who had a full time job as a secretary at a small gallery along the boardwalk at this point in time, would say that Samson felt like her mini husband, since she would see him every night when she got home from work. She started to say 'Darling, I'm home!' whenever she walked through the door at night, and it always made Samson smile. I'm sure my mom knew that it made Samson feel like the little man of the house, and how he craved that role since his father had just passed away around that time. It turned out to be one of those weird, quirky habits that has managed to stand the test of time.

I pour the smoothie into three glasses, and when I turn around with a glass in each hand, I come face to face with Samson's caramel bedhead and blue eyes that are behind his tortoise shell glasses. At over six feet, he towers over my average five- foot-five frame, but he's yet to settle in to his height; he's still all lanky limbs and pointy elbows. After knowing him for over a decade, his face is as familiar to me as Indigo's, which is saying a lot since Indigo and I share a face. I could probably trace the pattern that his freckles weave across his nose in the sand. He grabs his glass right out of my hand and takes a sip. He taps a finger on his chin in thought.

"Strawberry, banana, raspberry, and..." he snaps his fingers in rapid succession, his go to thinking-about-it gesture.

"Grape," I announce after a solid ten seconds of snapping.

"Grape?"
"Did I not say grape?"

"Oh you said grape, I'm just confused as to why you said grape."

"If it was a fruit in the fridge, it ended up in this smoothie."

"Thank goodness there was no tomato, then," Samson says as he leans against the kitchen counter, taking a sip of his smoothie.

I put my glass down on the counter and cover my eyes with my hands in frustration.

"How many times do we have to have this argument? A tomato is not a fruit!" Samson sighs. "It's a fruit, Lia; it's a ripened flower ovary and it contains seeds."

"Not your seed argument again. If that's the case, then a cucumber is a fruit, and a pepper, and a pumpkin, and basically every other vegetable I can think of. Are you saying that the concept of a vegetable is completely false, only a fabrication?"

It's at this point that Indigo walks into the kitchen shaking her head.

"Are you guys still on the is-the-tomato-a-fruit-or-a-vegetable-debate? Didn't we come to an agreement on that already?"

Samson says no at the time that I'm saying yes. We glare at each other.

"We never came to a real agreement," says Samson, "since you guys always agree with each other."

Indigo hops up onto the counter, and picks up the last smoothie glass, the one that's sitting by the blender. "It's a part of the whole twin deal, we're just in sync that way."

She takes a sip.

"Did you put grape into this?"

Samson throws his hands up into the air. "Unbelievable."