“Oh, that’s a thoughtful question.”Derek’s hands find his hips.“I know Jay’s version of things, but tell me, what’s the story with you two?”
“Childhood best friends turned high school sweethearts turned… nothing.I wasn’t there for her like I should’ve been, and she left when things got too hard.”
“But she’s back?”
“Temporarily, but she’ll leave again.”
“Why?”
“She’s convinced everyone’s better off without her.Cactus.”
He nods, like he totally understands, though I can’t imagine how.
“There’s no future for us,” I tell him.“It’s complicated.Too much history.Too many obstacles.We agreed to one night only.”
He scoffs.“Don’t try to control the uncontrollable, Henry.Love isn’t complicated.People are.If the love is strong enough, it’ll bulldoze right through any complication.You have to want it and believe in each other badly enough.”
Pepper yaps at his feet, as if bored with our conversation.
Derek rests a hand on my shoulder.“Just be delicate with her, help her see the sunflower behind the cactus.Then, and only then, she might feel safe enough to bloom.”
I smile as he tugs Pepper away.
“Thanks for the cup of joe.Now, go to her,” he says, walking backwards.“She might not like waking up in your bed alone.”
Fuck, I hadn’t thought of that.
I quickstep down the Riverwalk and cross the street to the museum, excited to see the look on Venus’s face when she bites into the decadent cinnamon roll I got for her.
And then kissing the sweetness from her lips.
But Dr.Blake’s Land Rover screeches to a stop at the corner before abruptly turning.She’s already left.
“Damn it!”I yell, mainly at myself.I mope back to my apartment, feeling utterly foolish—why didn’t I leave her a note—and more alone than ever now that she’s gone.
But it could’ve been a relief for her.Venus is better at quick exits than goodbyes, and I would’ve tried to get her to stay.Still, I roam the apartment, berating myself for giving her the impression that I wanted her to leave.
The empty bed.
Her things gone.
The quiet apartment.
The sweets uneaten.
Our one chance at its abrupt end.
This isn’t what I wanted.But it makes things easier.
I spot her scarf on the floor behind my leather chair and scoop it up like a treasure.The silky fabric molds to my hands as I bunch it in my grip.It’s red with pink peonies bursting from its edges.Lovely and delicate, like her.I bring it to my face and inhale.
Rose from her lotion, and rosemary from her shampoo—her.
I plop to the edge of my leather chair, remembering Mom tying Venus’s first scarf into her hair.Mom invited her over for Saturday morning pancakes.Venus’s wild hair kept dipping into the syrup on her plate.Venus didn’t care, but Mom snapped her fingers and said,“Venus, wouldn’t it be nice to have that hair out of your way?”To which Venus perked up like it was a novel idea, and said,“It would help when I do my experiments.”
Mom returned from her bedroom with a standard red bandana, swept Venus’s hair back, and tied it into a headband, holding her hair behind her shoulders.Venus used the bandana every day after and practiced using it in new ways—in a top knot, half-tie, a ponytail, or even just around her neck until she needed it.
Noticing her loyalty to the gift, Mom eventually gave her alternatives—hand-me-downs from her closet and my grandmother’s.Mom would pick up new ones at thrift stores and yard sales to gift to her.Even when their relationship was strained, Mom collected gifts like these for Venus.
