The Apple Thief

She walks over to the fruit bowl

at the entrance of the dining hall

in the assisted living facility.

 

Kathy at the front desk watches her

as she takes an apple in each hand.

She slips first one, then the other

inside her open jacket

her bent arms stiff against her body

making apple-sized bulges

in the crooks of her elbows.

 

Before she walks back to us

she grabs a couple of bananas

one in each hand.

“She hasn’t eaten,”

she says to Kathy

pointing a banana at me

arms clamped to her sides.

 

“Oh, okay,” says Kathy

smiling and nodding at us.

We hurry to the exit

with the forbidden fruit.

 

In the car, Mom unloads her booty.

“Wie viele Leute kommen zum Essen?”

How many people are coming to eat?

“Nur ich, heute,” I tell her.  Just me today.

Although it’s always just me.

 

We share one of the bananas after lunch.

She leaves the rest of her bounty in my car

after I take her back.  I don’t mention it—

there’s probably a stash in her room already.

I can’t very well return them to the fruit bowl—

it would be a violation of the hygiene rules.

 

Now I’m stuck

with Mom’s contraband apples

and a stray banana.

But I’ve got it covered.

Over the next couple of days

I’ll be eating the evidence.