#talenti

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It was a late summer evening. Crickets were chirping, the air was still thick with the smell of barbecue smoke. You and Abby decided to walk hand-in-sweaty-hand to your neighborhood's grocery store for some dessert. Usually it was an easy enough affair; you both would simply eat any treat your eyes landed on first. This time, however, Abby felt... ambitious.

"I bet I can open it." She pulls you toward the ice cream aisle. Ben and Jerry's, Bluebell, Haagen-Dazs, Breyers; it's a frozen dairy wonderland. But her butterfly blue eyes are locked on one particular brand: Talenti. Why?!

"Abby, no." You begin with a quiet sigh. "Can't we just stick with Haagen Dazs?"

You know your girlfriend very well. Too well, even. This is just like the time she thought she could suddenly pick up pottery to make your anniversary gift. In the end, you got a pretty velvet box with a misshapen teacup in it. Abby's embarrassed face was the true bow on top.

"I can open it! What, you don't believe in me?" She pouts while flexing her massive muscles in her blue button up shirt. She's lucky she's hot. That combo wouldn't work for most people. You resign before the puppydog eyes come out.

"I didn't say-- Okay, fine." You rub your temples and close your eyes to the impending madness. "But don't smash it on the ground when you get frustrated and you give up." You say, picking out 2 flavors that you'd both love.

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Now it's all of 30 minutes later. You wouldn't admit to this, but you were eager to watch Abby take on the notorious Talenti. Everyone knows it's impossible to open, it's like pulling a sword out of a stone. But Abby fancies herself a King Arthur descendant, as it were. That makes it so much funnier when you can hear her grunting from the kitchen.

"This (strained grunt) piece of shit (more grunting) thing!" She huffs, rolls her shoulders, and glares daggers at the tiny (but mighty) jar of gelato. She will not be made a bitch of in her own home.

"Oooh, Hercules! Hercules!" You snicker as you poke your head through the kitchen doorway. "I thought you said you could do it?"

"I can!" She retorts through gritted teeth. She's flushed red and hunched over. It's really beating the crap out of her. And you've seen her successfully arm wrestle a fully grown man.

"Babe... Is it really that hard? It's ice cream, not a government safe."

And with those words, Abby's eyes nearly popped out of her head. Now you've done it.

"Oh? Let's see you try then, hot shot." She slams the container on the counter, still flushed and clearly over it. Just as you predicted.

"Go on, open yours. Wow me."

You roll your eyes and sigh. She's such a baby sometimes. You take your Talenti from the freezer, eye it up and down, and tap it like a mic.

"This thing on?" You say, shit eating grin smeared across your already smug face.

"Not funny." Abby cuts your bit short. Her face is stone cold, much like the gelato in your hands.

"Fine, fine. Okay. One, two and..." You wrap the lid of the jar in your shirt, the rest of the container grasped in your palm, and twist.

*Pop*

"Three! There we go. Pass me a spoon?" You bat your eyelashes mock-angelically, as Abby's face twists into almost every phase of grief there is.

"....Are you serious?" Abby stares at the jar in your hand, disbelief written all over her tanned freckled face.

"Abs... I can open yours for you if you really need-"

"NO!"

You couldn't resist anymore. You're doubled over laughing. Abby's staring at you, dead silent with frustration and humiliation. She could probably bench press a small car if she was determined enough. But you just smoked her. With a jar of italian dessert. And now you're laughing at her. She's still pink, arms crossed, Talenti sitting behind her totally unbothered by her antics.

"You're such a sore loser! Just let me help you, I won't bring it up ever again, I swear!" You wipe a tear from your face.

No answer. She hasn't quite reached the acceptance phase of grief yet. Instead, she silently hands you the spoon you asked for and gestures for you to eat it.

You take a spoonful to your mouth, trying not to choke on your remaining giggles.

"...Well?" Abby asks, eyebrow raised.