Starving Kindness

Gina excitedly rushed into her office's lunch room and asked Daisy, who was enjoying her chicken marsala and sipping grape cranberry juice, “Are you still painting?”

Daisy rested her half-empty glass beside her plate and informs, “It’s my therapy. Don’t you realize I am happier and not cussing anyone!”

“Damn,” Gina said as Everly, to her left, burst out laughing. Turning to her, Gina asked, “Are you still making your craft necklaces and bracelets?”

“As Daisy said,” Everly reflects, “It’s therapy because Phillip is still alive after stealing most of my life savings.”

They all laughed, and Daisy notified, “Jules Art Fair is here again.”

“What!” Daisy and Everly cried, dropping their forks on their plate.

“But why didn’t Wendy tell us? Her company is the host?” Everly said, grabbing her phone and dialing Wendy’s number.

Wendy answered after the second ring, and Everly demanded, “When is the art fair starting?”

“Tomorrow, and it’s after one PM, and they are not taking any more sellers!”

“What!” Everly cried out into the phone. “You knew we were looking for a place to sell our arts and crafts, and you deliberately didn’t tell us, and now it’s close! I thought we were friends?”

Everly listened, then screamed, “You forgot. You always forget to do stuff for us. We don’t forget to do things for you.”

Wendy disconnected the call.

“How did you know about the Fair?” Daisy asked her eyes on Everly, who was still fuming.

“Steven called complaining that he loaned Wendy his rent money. When he demanded to be paid, she told him he would have to wait until the Fair was over because she used the money to buy supplies to sell,” Gina explained.

“So, we missed a big opportunity,” Daisy said regretfully.

“No, we don’t,” Gina said as their phone beeped. Everly and Daisy checked their phone, read the message, and then rushed to Gina, hugging her.

They asked, “How?”

“Steven’s cousin Sandra. . . . .”

“You mean the Sandra that we lied for so she wouldn’t lose her job a few years ago. . . . .” Daisy cut her off.

“She is in charge of renting the stalls. So, I paid for all three of us. I am doing my T-shirts,” Gina explains.

At the fair, they had stalls beside each other. Wendy was a few yards away, her stall packed with various perfumes. She was shocked to see them.

“Sorry, I forgot to tell you,” a guilty look etched on her face.

Daisy sold all nineteen paintings and started painting more. Two people from different museums commissioned her to paint more. Everly sold all her bracelets and necklaces, and several people who owned jewelry stores tried to hire her. Gina sold all of her cut-up T-shirts to beachgoers. They recommend her to several stores near the beach that would buy in bulk from her.

Wendy sold nothing! Many people stopped by, but they bought nothing.

“I am going to support her,” Gina said after Daisy sold her last painting.

“Why?” Everly demanded.

“What is kindness to you?” Gina asked them.

“For me,” Daisy said, “It’s the puppy we always fed when we lived in the hostel in college. When he grew up and someone tried to rob us, he defended us. He didn’t forget the kindness we gave him.”

“Kindness for me is the baby bird that fell out of the tree and broke her wing, and we took care of her, and her mother never forgot. When Tony tried to break in, she and several other birds pegged at him until we realized and called the police,” Everly recalls.

“For me, it’s when I had no place to stay, and you guys took me in,” Gina recalls.

“And you always return all of the kindness you get from everyone,” Daisy and Everly flashback.

“I was raised to take with one hand and give with the other, so Kindness would never starve,” Gina reflects on her grandmother’s words. “My grandmother believes when we take kindness and don’t return it, we starve it, and it eventually dies with us.”

“She starved kindness and sold nothing. We don’t,” unconsciously slipped from

Daisy’s thoughts.

As they marched over to Wendy’s stall, they saw the fear in her eyes that revealed the sorrow in her heart.

They each took a perfume, and after they handed her the money, she said, “Why are you patronizing me? Are you sorry for me?”

“We are feeding Kindness,” Gina quickly said.

“And I don’t feed kindness?” she demands.

Three pairs of eyes stared at her.

“Damn,” she said, dropping their payment on the counter. “I didn’t feed kindness when I didn’t tell you about the Fair,” her guilty conscience asked.

Three heads nod in agreement.

“You always do well because you don’t starve kindness, so it stayed alive and opened hearts and doors for you,” she reflects with understanding.

Three faces smiled, nodding.

Wendy sighed, then asked, “How do I feed kindness?”

“Just return the generosity you take,” Gina educates.

“It’s that simple?”

“Yes,” Gina agrees. “Even if you don’t get it back, it will find a way in when you need it.”

I know many humans who never reciprocate the generosity they receive. Kindness is like a plant. You water it, and it grows and gives back something to humanity. You starve it, and it withers and dies. Don’t starve kindness. You will need it.

Thank you for reading this piece. I hope you enjoy it.