Hymn of Ame (COMPLETED)

[05] Anitun Tabu

CHAPTER FIVE

PENELOPE

THE VENDORS were dying, crouched down in a corner, looking as though they were drained of hope. And the noise coming from them wasn't just a normal conversation; it was an angry discussion about how the goddess Anitun Tabu left them behind. The more the rain continued, the more they lost faith in her. I thought it was a crazy time for me to believe in Anitun Tabu myself. Ame lost his balance upon the sight, a woebegone expression on his face.

Because of the weather, the vendors didn't earn much. They were barely scraping by ("Curse Anitun Tabu!" a vendor hissed out). Our group started toward a fruit stall. The vendor told us that almost half of his goods were spoiled, smell sour, skin cracked, flesh uncomfortably soft and watery. Heavy-hearted, he had disposed of them before it affected the lot.

"We'll take one durian," said Pedre. "Every time they asked for me there, grandma always leaves durian in front of Anitun Tabu's shrine so I'm guessing it's her favorite."

"And that's the reason why you shouldn't guess," Ame burst out, "that prickly foul thing is not her favourite. Maybe it is the only available fruit she could offer, that's why."

"Hold up, okay?" said Pedre. "That's just what I see, all right?! Stop biting our heads off."

Pedre passed me the durian, so I could inspect it. It still smelled nice (as nice as a durian could get), and there was no break in its skin. "We'll get this one."

"No, not that thing!" Ame winced.

"It has a name," I told him gently.

"Well," he said, "that durnian is disgusting."

"It's durian, Ame," I corrected, getting slightly annoyed. He could be childish sometimes, which made him stand out among the rest of the guys. I couldn't say proudly that I liked it, but it was part of him. Like how his limbs only belonged to him. His childishness could be irritating at times, but I knew I didn't wish it gone. I couldn't imagine him all serious and awkward. Like how I was.

"That's what I meant to say," he said. "Don't buy it."

"Seriously, you are offending the fruit," I said.

The vendor looked offended, too. Before he could shove us away, I handed him the bills. I couldn't help giving him a grateful smile for entertaining us kindly despite Ame, and could have sworn I received one in return, for the money. Maybe it was his first sale for this day - or who knew, it could be the first since the rain began. He held the money as though trying to commit the feeling in his mind.

"Let's go," I said curtly, effectively shutting Ame up. Only when we were out of the vendor's earshot did I let him speak again.

"Seriously, Penelope," Ame whined, repelled by the durian but bound by the responsibility to umbrella me. "I'm even amazed you aren't offended by its smell. And besides, they don't even have feelings--- they can't be offended."

I knew, quite well --- I'd gotten the front seat of it a while back --- that he was sensitive to topics that involved gods and goddesses. So, I wasn't entirely sure what had gotten to me when I mentioned them in my reply.

"I'm already believing that gods and goddesses exist, might as well treat fruits like they can talk," I said, mentally crossing my fingers that he would not bite my head off.