Fruit of Ruin
When I was seven, my father brought home a beautiful lady who gave me a mango.
That day, my mother watched me happily eating the mango while she signed her name on the divorce papers. After that, she jumped off the roof of our building.
From then on, mangoes became the nightmare of my life.
So on my wedding day, I told my husband, Alan Holt, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango."
Alan pulled me into his arms, quiet.
From then on, mangoes became off-limits for him, too.
On Christmas Eve of our fifth year of marriage, Alan's childhood sweetheart, Larissa Fennimore, left a mango on his desk at the office.
The very same day, Alan announced he was cutting ties with Larissa an
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