Tomatoes cont...

When she wasn’t looking, Petersen sneaked a piece of tomato into her sandwich. Later, he said that until then, he hadn’t been convinced that Suyen was allergic to tomatoes; he had never heard of anybody else being allergic to tomatoes; he thought that she was just being capricious, and he never expected such a drastic reaction. He almost apologized.

It’s a good thing we live near the hospital and that the ambulance came quickly. Otherwise, Suyen might be dead. And so might he! By my own hands!

To calm my nerves that evening, as Suyen lay semi-conscious in the hospital, I stayed outside, gathering dead leaves under the dim light of the patio. Judy was upstairs; she had been calling their mutual friends to tell them what had happened. Judy is not like me: she is not possessed by the need for revenge; she didn’t mention to anyone how the piece of tomato had inadvertently found its way into Suyen’s mouth.

I had drunk a few beers and was just about to go into the house and pay a visit when I caught sight of Petersen’s large tomato patch. It gave me an idea. I looked all around me, piercing the darkness with my evil eyes. Not a soul in sight. Not without a certain amount of trepidation, I must admit, I came over to the fence and made every effort I could so that my spray reached each and every tomato on each and every plant.

After my sweet little act of revenge, I was relieved in more ways than one. I was laughing out loud. I don’t think I had laughed so hard since I had put a thumb tack on old Mr. Nesbitt’s seat at school in grade five.

To my surprise, Judy was down in the kitchen when I came inside the house. I had a hard time explaining to her why I was in such a jubilant mood. I invented some story about narrowly escaping a skunk’s spray. I was glad then that she believed me. I’m especially glad now that the tomatoes tasted good.