Weird, because I don’t normally think of honesty as my best quality. I could work on the whole white-lies-to-make-everyone-happy thing. I know I do that, but I can’t stop. Looking back, I guess I did let the truth fly earlier tonight. About the damn genocide, no less. God, I’m such a tool sometimes.
The breeze picks up, and I get a scent of her rose perfume again. It’s arresting, and I forget what I’m going to say. Or what we were talking about.
“What, uh, what scent do you wear? It’s floral but foresty.” That sounds creepy, doesn’t it? Like I’m sniffing her. I try, “I’m into smells.”
Ugh. As I said, a tool.
I wave my hands. “Sorry, sorry. I’m making it worse.”
She seems entirely unfazed. “See? You’re honest. And you’re on the right track. It’s called Trampled, like stomped roses on a forest floor. There’s Bulgarian rose and, you know, agarwood?” I shake my head. But Iwantto know agarwood. And all the other thingsin her brain. “I dab one bit behind each ear.” Her voice is smooth, flowing. My arms prickle. She smirks. “I’m into smells, too.”
“Damn, Erebuni. Can we be friends?”
“I hope so. Let me give you my number.”
Friendship sealed. We exchange numbers, and I give her my Instagram handle since that’s the best way to keep in touch with me.
Then she asks, “So is Raffi the kind of guy you’re into?”
She wants to talk boys? I didn’t take her for that kind of woman.
“Not historically. I guess with his whole...” I’m about to give his entire family history in politics and newspapers and how that suggests to me he might be more than a couture-clad pretty boy, but I censor myself. “I mean no. I’m going with no.”
She smiles, and it feels private, like it’s just for herself and I caught sight of it.
“There you are!” Arek shouts, and he’s trailed by Vache and Janette. Damn, I wanted to know where her line of inquiry was going. I don’t want to assume anything, but the direction felt... intimate.
The men are sweaty, with glazed temples and damp shirts. Janette is unchanged. Arek has this look of childlike excitement, an earnestness in his eyes like someone’s handed him an extra-large pack of gummy worms. “Special guest DJ Versace is in the house.” He directs himself to Erebuni. “Did you know he was coming? You’re so crafty. You know I love surprises.”
They begin chatting, and I check the time. It’s getting late, and I have work tomorrow. Oh yeah, I work Sundays. Every day of the week sometimes. The news doesn’t sit around on weekends, which is a prospect that used to excite me, but now I mostly dread it. I’m not sure how it happened, how I got stuck as the reporter versionof the whipping boy. But there’s something about the optimism of this night, being lifted up by such good people, that I resolve right here, right now, to change my situation at work. Tonight, I’m going to put out calls for scoops, hit up my sources, and have a shiny polished gem of a serious pitch to deliver to Richard tomorrow morning. It’s late, and I’m three drinks in, but I know I can do it.
“Afraid I’ll have to miss DJ Versace. Gotta head home.”
Erebuni asks, with a note of concern, “Are you driving back?”
“Uh, I was planning...”
I take stock of myself. My head’s swimming, not like in a stormy current, but floating down a lazy river. Still, too much movement.
“Planning to take a Lyft back.”
Erebuni places her hand on the back of my arm. Her voice is gentle. “Good.”
I lose my breath. It’s happening again, and I need to turn it off. It’s been brewing, and I’ve been pretending it’s not, but when her soft, cold hand sweeps against my arm, it’s different than locking pinkies with her for a dance. My skin tightens and tingles and I can’t keep deluding myself. Girl crush.
Ugh, I could wax so poetic on my girl crushes of days past. I get them way too often, and back when I was single they never led to anything except my own disappointment and the occasional ruined friendship. Sometimes it felt like every woman in the world was straight. Anyway, this is not the time; I’m man hunting.So, Nareh, just stop.
I excuse myself, jog back inside to shake her off, grab my purse, and call a car. I cringe at the fee, and my own stupidity for drinking too much to drive. The night before work. The daughter of a father killed in a drunk driving accident. Every time I get in a car I thinkabout him, tell myself that I’m not invincible. But tonight my head was filled with too many happy things to leave room for me to think about the consequences of my driving. Maybe that’s how Dad felt, too.
When I’m back with the group, I give a little goodbye wave.
“Don’t be corny. Come here.” And Arek wraps me in a big ole bear hug. Arek, one of my mom’s suitors, crossed off the list. He’s awesome—he is—but I have always been quick to know when I’m feeling attraction toward someone or have a chance at feeling attracted to someone (literally within seconds), and he is not one of them. Sorry, Mom.
Vache and I hug, and he’s way more muscular than I would have expected.
“Mnak parov,” Janette wishes me, and gives me two air kisses.
Erebuni leans in for a hug, and I’m in her curls, surrounded by dark roses and stepping on wood chips and snapping twigs in a forest. She’s soft, but not frail like Janette; there’s strength in her grip, and the way she holds me feels like she’s giving me something to take home.
