Jackie frowns. “Fine?”
Lili nods. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Opening a cabinet, she grabs a travel mug. Pinches the paper filter, tilts the Chemex to pour the fresh coffee.
“Where are you going?” Jackie asks.
“I have a shift at the farm,” Lili says, dumping the excess coffee into the sink.
“Now?”
“Yeah, it’s market day.”
Jackie’s frown deepens. “Shouldn’t you—I mean, couldn’t you call off work? Like, call in sick?”
“Why would I do that?” she asks, sharp.
Jackie just looks at her.
“I’ve got to go,” Lili says, grabbing her coffee. From her bedroom, she grabs her phone—low battery, enough charge for a few hours—and leaves without looking at Jackie again.
Her phone keeps buzzing.
Throughout the farmers’ market, his name appears, calls and texts, as she helps stock radishes and purslane onto the farm stand, trains new volunteers, answers questions about when the last of the blueberries will land. Lili flinches each time her pocket buzzes—as she hands back cash to the girls about her age in UPenn hoodies who buy a few flats of strawberries, brings out more leeks for a Hasidic couple, tracks down details about open slots in the fall CSA program for a pair of interested roommates—untilshe finally shoves her phone away, burying it in her tote kicked under the cash register.
She stays late after the market closes, helping take down tents, fold up tables, and pack away remaining produce; she tries to occupy herself.
“Lili, you can head out,” Eileen tells her as they’re wrapping up inventory checks for restaurant orders. “There’s not much more to do, I’ll take it from here.”
“Are you sure? I’m happy to stay—”
“Go!” she insists, warm but firm, shooing Lili with her clipboard. “Really, you’ve been here all day.”
“Fine, fine,” Lili says, trying to laugh. It burns like shame: how she loiters, trying to distract herself, grasping. The stench of need.
Eileen smiles, unaware. “We’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Oh! I emailed you the employment contract, can you bring it signed in the next day or so?”
“Oh. Right, sure. I’ll do that.”
Eileen squeezes her arm. “Really glad you’re coming on board, truly. We had to fight for it, with funding, but everyone came around. We’ll kick off with official onboarding next week, yeah? Start of a new pay period and all that.”
Slinging her tote over her shoulder, Lili heads home through the gently agitated hum of the neighborhood settling into Sunday evening. Roommates doing grocery runs, parents pushing strollers with tired children and Duane Reade bags stuffed in the under-seat baskets, makeshift picnics at Domino Park, the sun melting over the city. She watches these people, as she walks by them all—their faces, their lives. Across the East River, the Williamsburg Bridge glitters in the late light, blocking One World Trade.
As she rounds her street corner, she braces herself.
But he’s not there. There is no black car waiting, no man she knows.
Lili stops on the corner. Staring at her street, she feels empty-handed and near dizzy.
Around her, conversations drift from apartment windows, the scent of fresh food and music from kitchens where people are cooking; a group of teenagers further down the block are loud and laughing, turning onto Wythe. The lush purple sunset fades in the sky.
It’s a lurch of both relief and hurt. Her head starts to throb, threat of tears again.
As if the physical space he’s giving her indicates care,trust—as if he doesn’t even fucking suspect what she’s done—
She runs up her building stairs, heavy soles of her Blundstones thudding against the steps.
When she shoves their apartment door open, she hears familiar voices, the hiss of vegetables stir-frying. Quiet music plays, clink of plates settled on the table. As Lili kicks off her shoes, Jackie pokes her head into the hall. “Hey!” she exclaims. She’s grinning too broadly. “Perfect timing, dinner’s almost ready.”
“All vegan, Marwan!” James announces from the kitchen. “I’m cooking, Amina’s setting up, the others will be over in a bit—”
