Ana jumps past me into the room with jazz hands. “Surprise! It’s my new jewelry workspace. I set it up this morning.”
Across from the couch, there’s now a battered worktable and a collection of drills, solder guns, goggles, pliers, and what looks like a crucible under a bright light with a swinging magnifying glass. Mistaking my silence, she says, “We can do up a schedule if you want me out of your hair when you’re working.”
I can feel my face going purple that she thinks me so selfish. “Oh my God, no. I’m sorry. I was taking it in. It’s amazing.”
“Thanks. I can’t wait to get started.” She carefully scratches her arm. On her bicep is her latest tattoo: an American traditional design of a mermaid with a heart. The bold colors and strong lines match her vibe, and I didn’t say anything when I noticed the mermaid’s features look a little bit like Jayne’s.
The morning is slow, and Ana leaves to run some errands in the late afternoon. The door opens and I look up with my customer-service face. To my surprise, Rafe walks in.
“Hi?” It’s been a day since the blackout, and I think we’re both struggling with what’s next, because a decade of not talking and some soul-baring isn’t something one simply forgets or gets over. I thought maybe we’d have at least a few days of uncomfortable texts as we tried to feel each other out, but it’s a relief to have Rafe simply arrive, potential awkwardness be damned.
“Happy birthday, Lucy.” He hands over a lovely glossy-leafed jade plant and a small box that reveals a cupcake through its cellophane window. “I know you’re working, but I wanted to bring you these.”
I’m floored he remembered, let alone bought me a gift. “Oh my God,” I say. “I mean, thank you.”
He smiles, the left side of his mouth lifting higher than the right and making my face warm. “Your mom told my mom to remind me that today was your birthday.”
“Oh.” The jade plant is still lovely, and it was good of him to come by, but the leaves look duller when I run my finger along them.
He shrugs. “I didn’t need the reminder, although I appreciated her sharing your address.”
“She did what?” So she knows we’ve seen each other, although I decided not to mention it to her. I didn’t want to know what she thought.
“Your mother has always been very detail-oriented.”
That’s a polite way to saycontrolling. I take the Funfetti cupcake and divide it to share. Rafe makes a slow turn to examine the shop. “You were more emo when you were younger,” he notes.
“That part of the store isn’t mine.” I point at the counter. “That is.”
“That feels more like you,” he says before biting into his cupcake half. “You had a sketch of your perfect store when you were eighteen, and it looked a lot like this.”
“I did?”
“In that black notebook you used to carry around. The one with the sticker of a fox on the front.”
“Oh, my scent notebook. I wonder what happened to it.” It’s easy to talk to him when we’re reminiscing, and I relax. Only a bit, though, because I can’t help but wonder what it means that he remembers such a small detail of our shared past. Even at such a distance, it feels good to have been seen. Rafe always did that for me.
I show him my workspace in the back and he laughs. “God, this is like going down memory lane.”
I know what he means. “You used to come by the lab on Wednesdays after soccer.”
He winces. “Your mom installed an industrial fan after that time I brought McDonald’s for you. I felt bad.”
I grin at him. Mom was furious and made me wash down the entire lab to get out the smell. “The Big Mac was worth it.”
He picks up a vial with a questioning look, and I hand him a blotter. It’s a gourmand of praline with marzipan and lychee, given depth by patchouli. He used to test all my creations, and it’s a pleasure toshare my perfumes with Rafe again. I used to wait, barely breathing, for the hum he always gave when he found something he liked, and the same happens now as he sniffs a few more of my works in progress.
“This is incredible,” he says. “Your mother said you wanted time to be on your own, and I can tell how you’ve changed over the years. These seem more complex? Maybe layered? I’m not sure of the right word.”
“Thanks,” I say, unable to control my smile. Unlike my mother, Rafe has always been complimentary of my perfumes.
He glances at his watch. “I’d better go. I have an event with some clients.”
“Oh, of course.” I try not to sound disappointed that he fit me in between commitments. After all, he came by the store. That means something.
He looks at my perfumer’s organ. “Do you think you’d like to grab dinner soon? You can show me a place you like in the city, or we can try one new to both of us.”
Is this a date or a catch-up between two old friends? It occurs to me that I’d prefer it to be the former. I could ask where he wants to go with this, but I lack the courage. It’s too soon, and I’m unsure of him, and myself. Despite our history, this is new. Also, he did make a point of stressing he only wants to be friends.
