Stolen Strawberries

The doctors said I’d never really grow up — that my mind would stay like a child’s.
But I knew my husband Joshua was the best person in the whole world.
He’d ruffle my hair, call me his “silly girl,” and help me glue my crooked art projects.
Then he said he had to be a doctor far, far away — in a war zone. He promised to video call on my birthday.
I waited and waited. Then a man in uniform gave me Joshua’s wet phone. “There was fighting… He’s a star now.”
After he became a star, everyone called me a hero’s wife.
Every day I drew him a picture and “mailed” it with his favorite soda to the stars.
Until one day I saw him.
He was in the bakery across the street, feeding the biggest strawberry from my cake to my best friend.
He didn’t see me watching through the glass.
He didn’t know that in a simple world, the rules are simple too:
A bad kid who steals strawberries… must be locked away.

1
I was standing in front of the community mail lockers, clutching the drawing I’d made for Joshua.
It was a picture of a big, sparkling star, holding a bottle of his favorite orange soda.
The mailman, Mr. Henderson, didn't smile at me today. He just looked at me and sighed.
"Tricia," he said gently, "Dr. Cross was a hero. You need to take care of yourself, you hear?"
I nodded and pushed the drawing and the soda into locker #27.
Click. The little metal door shut.
This was my special place for talking to my star. I came here every single day.
Joshua said he went somewhere far, far away, to become a star in the sky and watch over me. I believed him.
On my way home, I passed by the bakery.
The most beautiful strawberry tarts were lined up in the window, the red berries gleaming like tiny, perfect hearts. Joshua used to buy these for me all the time. He’d always save the biggest, reddest one, spear it with a fork, and lift it to my lips.
My silly girl deserves the sweetest things, he’d say.
I decided to buy one, to mail to my star tomorrow.
And then, a familiar shape reflected in the glass.
I saw him.
Joshua.
He was back. He hadn't become a star at all.
He was sitting right there, at a table by the window. And across from him was my best friend, Vivian.
Joshua was smiling. His smile was just as handsome as I remembered.
He took the little silver fork and carefully lifted the biggest, reddest strawberry from the cake.
I froze, watching through the glass. Time seemed to stop.
He moved the fork slowly, gently... and fed the strawberry right into Vivian's mouth.
Vivian's eyes crinkled into happy little crescents, just like the moon.
I knew that gesture.
That strawberry was supposed to be mine.
The bottle of orange soda slipped from my fingers. Pop.
It rolled a few times on the pavement and came to rest by my feet. Fizz bubbled out across the concrete, like the tears I couldn't cry.
But I wasn't crying. My world had gone completely silent.
Me, on the outside of the glass. Them, on the inside. A new world, and an old one.
The only thing I could see was that stolen strawberry. It was so red. Red like blood.
A thought started to grow in my mind, very, very slowly.
Joshua wasn't a star.
He was a thief.
He stole my strawberry.
I turned away from the bakery. The little bell on the door didn't jingle for me. I walked slowly, my feet stepping on my own long shadow.
The sun was setting.
The streetlights flickered on, stretching my shadow until it was long and thin. I looked down at it. It looked back at me. Neither of us said a word.
The walk home felt so much longer today.
I passed the house of the man in the uniform who told me Joshua was a star. The lights were on inside. I could hear laughter.
Liars.
You're all liars.
I got home and opened the door. The apartment was dark and quiet. I didn't turn on the lights.
I like the dark. The dark is simple. You can't see lies in the dark.
A photo of Joshua and me hung on the wall. He was holding me, smiling like the sun. I walked over to it and reached out, tracing the outline of his face.
It was cold. I guess he'd always been cold.
I went to my room. My bed was covered in stuffed animals. Joshua said they would keep me company while he was away. I picked up the biggest one, a floppy-eared rabbit with black, glassy eyes.
I whispered to the rabbit, "Joshua is a thief."
The rabbit said nothing.
"He stole my strawberry."
The rabbit still said nothing.
"He and Vivian... they're bad kids."
I set the rabbit aside and opened my sketchbook. The last page was the star I drew today. I stared at it for a long, long time.
Then, I took a red crayon and drew a cross over it. A big, angry, red X.
The old rules weren't fun anymore. Stars could fall from the sky. Heroes could be thieves.
This game needed a new way to play.
I flipped to a fresh page. With a black marker, I wrote the first new rule.
1. A bad kid who steals something has to give it back.
I looked at the words, but it didn't feel like enough. I thought for a moment, then added a second line beneath it.
1. If they don't, they have to be locked away.
I closed the book and tucked it under my pillow.
My world needed new rules. And I was going to be the one to make them.

2
The next morning, I woke up early. Sunlight streamed through the window, but it carried no warmth. I pulled my rulebook out from under my pillow and read the two lines again.
1. A bad kid who steals something has to give it back.
2. If they don't, they have to be locked away.
I nodded to myself. That was right.
I got out of bed and poured myself a glass of water. I used to drink only soda, because Joshua said sweet things were for kids like me. I didn't feel like having anything sweet today. The water tasted like nothing, which was perfect.
Sitting at my little table, I started to draw. Not a star this time, but a cake with one perfect strawberry missing. Across from it stood a little girl, crying. And opposite her, a man and a woman smiled, with tell-tale red stains on their lips.
When I was finished, I tore the page out, folded it neatly, and put it in my pocket.
The phone rang. It was Vivian.
I stared at her name on the screen for a long time. She used to call me every day to see if I was okay. She said she would take care of me for Joshua.
I answered.
"Tricia, where were you yesterday? I called and you didn't pick up," her voice was as smooth and warm as ever.
I didn't say anything.
"Tricia? What's wrong? Are you feeling sick?"
"The strawberry," I said.
The line went quiet for a second. "What strawberry? Oh, Chlo, do you want some strawberry tart? I can bring some over later, okay?"
"It was red," I stated.
She laughed a little. "Of course, it was red, silly. Strawberries are always red." Her gentle laugh scraped against my ears.
"You ate it," I said, each word a separate, hard little stone.
The silence on the other end of the line stretched on, much longer this time.
"Tricia... did you see something?" Her voice had changed. It was sharp now, anxious.
I didn't answer. I just hung up and blocked her number.
I don't need to talk to bad kids.
I grabbed my little teddy bear backpack and put the drawing inside it. There was one more thing I needed. I opened Joshua's closet. It was filled with his clothes, all smelling of him—a clean, sunny smell of soap. Now it just smelled like lies.
From the inner pocket of his suit jacket, I found a business card. It was for the hospital where he worked, with the director's name and number on it. I put that in my backpack, too.

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