Steady, aim—“Harmony, hi!” Armed with a fake smile, I turn to greet my passive-aggressor. “Oh my goodness, how are you?”
“Oh, you know, the usual.” She flips her mahogany curls over her shoulder, meeting my cheek for a kiss. “Radiating positive vibes and gathering the goodness flowing in from all directions in my life. What about you?” she squeaks, booping my nose. “I’ve missed your cute ass.”
That’s unlikely.
On her last visit to The Quays six months ago, Harmony informed me that “my little downer” harshed her vibe, and she needed to “withdraw from our relationship” to fill her life with positivity.
I was devastated for two seconds and then got over it.
“Oh, I’m doing fine. Great, really,” I lie.
Harmony furrows her immaculately manicured brows. “Your little issue is still giving you problems, huh?”
My incurable disease? Why yes, yes, it is.
“Here and there.” I shrug, grabbing a short glass. “You want your usual?”
Nodding, she pulls out one of the bar stools in an apparent attempt to keep me company while I muddle some berries in a shaker for a Black Rose, an ombre drink filterable to absolute Nashville perfection.
In other words, Harmony in hard liquor form.
When Harmony used to visit, she’d be accompanied by a gaggle of friends who honked and preened their feathers at the other side of the bar while I endured their hushed whispers and blatant stares alone. So this solo act has me on red alert.
“Oh! Before I forget,” she chirps, “I’ve been doing yoga over at Bois de Boulogne” —my spine stiffens, endo cure suggestion incoming infive, four, three, two—“and there’s a woman there who followsmyblog. Get. This. Her sister’s friend’s cousin had an issue with her periods, and she started going to these classes—which are totes cute, by the way. The instructor trained in the foothills of Mount Shasta, so like very legit—”
“Isn’t that in California?”
“Exactly. Anyway, my sister’s friend’s cousin says it’s like she has a whole new body. Totally cured.”
“How fortunate for her,” I manage through bared teeth. Hopefully, it comes across as an innocent smile, and she misses the maniacal forest witch possessing my soul.
Harmony summoned her.
I swear all it takes is a fixer or dreamer to mention one of the Holy Trinity of Cures—yoga, diets, and supplements. And bam! I’m one eye of newt short from cursing Harmony with a perpetual bad hair day.
Shaking Harmony’s drink a bit more aggressively than necessary, I bite back a cackle and ponder the true reason for her presence here.
“So . . .” she drawls, tracing a spot on the counter with her finger. “What’s up with that cute guy you posted earlier on the ‘gram?”
Ah. There we go.
“Like, are you two serious?”
“Oh. Uhm.” I settle the shaker, unsure how to proceed here. Ishouldtell her the picture was a plant. Her entire Instagram is a fictitious account of a chic bohemian lifestyle she barely lives. But after years of her belittling every aspect of my life—well, it’s farther along the complete and total humiliation spectrum than I care to venture.
“It’s still new, but maybe?” Best to toe the line with half-truths here, less likely to be caught in a complete lie that way. “We grew up together, but there was alwayssomethingthere—at least for me.”Somethingis the only word I have in my vocabulary to describe it. I grab the mesh strainer and steady my hand, pouring out Harmony’s drink.
“So were you two talking before he got here, then?”
“No, actually. Liam coming was a bit of a surprise.” I blush. “But once I ran into him, we fell back into our natural patterns like no time had passed. He surprised me a few days ago with a picnic at Place Dauphine, and then I stayed at his apartment yesterday.”
“Already?” Harmony squeals. “Oh my gosh, you must really like him then. I remember in college, your one boyfriend—what was his name?”
“Michel,” I say through clenched teeth. Nothing good can come out of this trip down memory lane. Michel was patient and understanding when we discovered intimacy was painful for me, but in the end, it was too hard for us to overcome, so we parted ways after a few months. After that, relationships didn’t make sense to me, with painful intercourse looming overhead like a dark cloud bound to rain blue lady balls at any given moment.
“He complained all the time you wouldn’t put out, and after him, you weren’t interested in anyone.”
“Liam’s special.”
