I knocked on the door of the apartment with the number 13 on it a little passed midday. I felt my palms sweating as I rubbed them against each other to remind myself that this is just a visit. Two old friends catching up. Right?
Her soft voice resounded in my ears when she said “Coming.” Making my heart beat faster. Four years, four goddamned years, and she could still do that to me. She opened the door and gave me a sweet smirk. “Come on in,” As I saw her smile, I thought, of course she could.
I walked in slowly, fearing I would be upsetting some kind of rule. This was not her home. This was their home. I could tell.
A two bedroom apartment on the sixth floor with a small balcony on the back, the kind you only use to go for a smoke. There were flowers on the railing of the balcony. Maybe culinary herbs or something like that. To my left there was the kitchen, a small but sophisticated space with a two door refrigerator and magnets stuck to them. I could’ve swore they were the types of magnets you use to hang photographs off the fridge, but there were no photos.
The apartment was painted light blue. There were landscape painting hanging from the walls; I recognized the style as Faye’s. To my right, the hallways leading to the two bedrooms and past the kitchen, a small two sit table and behind it, two sofas, a coffee table and a LED TV stuck to the wall. It was what people nowadays call minimalistic, but I wasn’t fooled, everything in that house looked expensive. The sofas were pure leather, the coffee table had an strange yet appeling form to it and the kitchen was stuck with more that everything you needed, including a crepe maker.
“Nice place,” I said with my hands in my pockets. I didn’t want to touch anything and contaminate her life with my… presence. It’s stupid but I didn’t want to be a part of them.
“Thanks. Put your jacket on the couch. I need help with the sauce.”
I laughed. “You always need help with the sauce.”
I removed my jacket, folded it up with my one arm and placed it on the couch’s arm. “Don’t muck me,” she said as I stood next to her.
The sauce was still quite watery. I stuck my finger into the sauce to taste it. It was a bit under seasoned and it could use a couple of things, but that was not what Faye was interested in.
“Hey! Don’t do that!” she hit my hand laughing.
“Sorry, sorry.” I said, but she knew I wasn’t sorry.
“Oh, please. If I leave you alone with the sauce you’ll do it again.”
“Okay, not sorry. Do you have some basil or something like that?”
“I think, yeah. Maybe.”
She walked passed me with her body too closed to mine, opened up one of the cupboards and pulled out dried basil. That should do it. We added basil, a pinch of pepper and another tiny pinch of salt and allowed the sauce to reduce. Then comes the meatballs.
She started adding stuff to the grounded beef as if she knew exactly what to add and how much of it. When I questioned her with my gaze, she responded “It’s my mom’s recipe.”
I watched her every move as if I were learning what could be the most important thing in the world to me. I loved the way she looked so excited to be making the meatballs her mom had taught her. Maybe because they were her dad’s favorite. Maybe because they were mine. Maybe it had nothing to do with either, it was just the enviroment that hd turned into a light air that made you feel warm when you breathe.
As I stood behind her with my eyes on the bawl she used to mix everything, I took a look at her, she had being exercising, she had a small one inch tattoo on her left wrist. I didn’t see it clearly that time, but I would go on to know it was an E, from Erick. She had also gotten a larger one on the inner side of her right forearm. About three per four inch of a black and white, get this, owl. Why? No freaking idea. She doesn’t know herself. She got it soon after we broke up. Some people drink, some people go to strip clubs; my ex-got the tattoo of an owl after the break. Who am I to judge.
“Done.” I heard her say. It caught me off guard. I was too busy smelling her hair. Lavender, as always. Yes, I know it does sound creepy.
“Now what?”
“Now we put these babies in the pan, get color on them and then let them finish up in the sauce.”
We did as she said and got the meatballs cooking and one by one, placed them in the sauce to cook through. As we waited she turned around and leaned on the counter, with her arms crossed and her eyes on me. It made me feel uncomfortable.
“So, what have you been up to?” I asked to break the silence.
She didn’t answer. She knew what I was playing at and she wasn’t buying it. “What happened to your arm?” She finally asked.
“Nothing. Broke it,” She was about to call my bluff, but my phone rang. Time for my pills. “Can I have a glass of water, please?”
As she went to get it, I went to get the pills in my jacket to realize something horrible. I forgot them. I must’ve been so focused on looking nice to see Faye and remembering the address that I forgot my pills.
Faye came out of the kitchen with the glass of water and I was forced to ask “Hey, do you have painkillers or something like that? I forgot mine.”
“You forgot… yours?” she repeated trying to make sense of it “You need it for your arm?”
Not just my arm, the headaches. They don’t attack quite that often but when they do, they are unbearable, so I’d rather be covered. “Yeah,” I Iied, partially.
“When did you… break your arm?”
“About three months ago.”
“Right. And you’re still wearing the arm sling and need painkillers for the pain…”
“Faye just… could you get me some painkillers… please?”
“If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to, Riley. But just say that. Say you don’t wanna talk about it instead of lying to me.”
I sighed “I don’t want to talk about it, Faye.”
She walked past me and came back with some pills. “I don’t know how much pain you feel so I would recommend two of them.”
“Thanks.” I took the glass of water from her and drank the pills. Unfortunately, those weren’t the only pills I forgot. If I don’t take the other ones, my level of attention and memory start struggling.
“You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just a precaution thing. It’s nothing.”
She wasn’t buying that either, but instead of insisting, she respected my choice of not wanting to talk about it, so she went into the kitchen to check on the meatballs.
We sat at the table eating a delicious meatball sub, just like the ones Mrs. Burton makes, talking about nonsense. She wasn’t working, she didn’t have to but she was planning on getting a job as soon as she could. She couldn’t stand the idea of simply staying home all day long doing laundry and washing the dishes. I asked what was stopping her and she shrugged.
“What about your art?” I asked having a sip of my Coke.
“I’m not painting anymore.” She said taking a bite.
“Why not?”
She shrugged again. Her shrugging was her version of ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ “What about you? What are you going to do now that you’re back for good… wait, you’re back good, right?”
I smiled “Yeah. I was thinking…” wait what was I thinking. I had an idea earlier that month. I got my phone out of my pocket and went to notes. Oh, there you go. Faye contemplated me without saying anything as I finished, “I was thinking about opening up a book store.”
“A book store?” she answered, somewhat excited at the idea.
“Yes, well, I can’t really work in construction anymore with my arm. I have some savings from my time in the army. And I’d like to work in a library. I like… quiet.” Her smile disappeared, she read my mind. “I just don’t like loud noises. They make nervous.”
She reached out to hold my hand over the table and gave me the sweetest of smiles. Her skin was as soft as I had remember, her finger were light and thin.
“I’m sorry,” I managed to say.
“For what?” she asked.
“I’m not proud of the way things ended between us―”
The front door opening up and closing stopped me. Faye moved away from me as if I was on fire and said “He’s early.”
She stood up as the man who had opened the door started walking toward us and said “Baby, I’m home.” I recognized that voice. He looked at us, with his eyes on me opened wide. “Ry?”
I swallowed my anger, my pain, the betrayal I was feeling. I swallowed everything, and, with a voice as clear as water I replied; “Hey, Scott.”
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