The mint smell from the deepest pocket in her handbag. She was speaking to a stranger, or she was emptying the groceries into the fridge, and on the pretense of arranging her coupons for her or counting the coins in her change purse, I dropped finger over finger, a hand-crawl, excavating past the lipstick’s makeup smell, the coolness of the small mirror, the powder compact, the lint and threads and the tiny bits of paper that form on the bottom of a handbag like the materials of a robin’s nest: the packet of Trident gum, spearmint, individually wrapped green rectangles cramped side by side. Sometimes just a lone one had loosened from the package and sat in the crease of the bag’s lining, silver-covered wrapper unraveling. I thought it could be a doll’s Christmas present. And the little crunch as I flicked the dried-out gum into two with my tongue, the gum taking its broad turns from the left to the right side of my mouth. I’d play with its minty dust of something like sugar which coated the insides of my cheeks until only the gummy chickle remained. Its flavorlessness left a slight gnawing in my belly every time, always a jolt from so much promise.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 28, Issue 2.
Julia Lisella’s books include Always (WordTech Editions, 2014), Terrain (WordTech Editions, 2007), and a chapbook, Love Song Hiroshima (Finishing Line Press, 2004). She is a professor of English at Regis College, and co-curates the Italian American Writers Association (IAWA) Reading Series in Boston. Her newest collection, Our Lively Kingdom, was named a finalist for the Lauria/Frasca Prize and was published by Bordighera Press in 2022.
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