Chapter 21 Magnolia #2
We’d go back to the kitchen, where Ellery would lay every ingredient out neatly on the counter before she started cooking.
And, oh, the food she made. She’d perfected her art in England.
She dipped the rosemary into the honey and brushed it onto the sliced cheese, and somehow, the combination turned the strong cheese into something surprisingly mild and completely addictive.
The chorizo she diced up and sautéed with onions until the whole place was filled with a mouthwatering smell, then she mixed in some freshly cooked pasta, grated some cheese onto it, and presented me with the most delicious pasta dish.
Everything she made was simple and yet perfect and so very Ellery.
Other mornings, we would go hiking up in Griffith Park.
Hazel loved going on hikes. She loved toddling uphill, though she would inevitably get tired after about twenty minutes, then Ellery and I would have to take turns carrying her up the trail.
I swear, Hazel got heavier by the minute.
By the time we reached the top, Ellery and I would both be panting like crazy.
But there was something about the torturous hike that I loved, a shared experience that brought Ellery and me still closer together.
We laughed so much doing it, her teasing me and me teasing her right back.
“Hard to”—gasp—“hike when you’re so unfit, Tulip,” she’d say.
“Oh please. I’m barely”—gasp—“out of breath.”
“Oh yeah? I bet”—gasp—“I could beat you”—gasp—“to the top.”
“Race you!” And I’d break into a run, Hazel squealing happily on my back. The run lasted all of seven seconds before I stopped, wheezing.
Ellery would laugh when she caught up with me, patting my shoulder and saying, “Good run, Tulip. That was practically a marathon.”
“I’m carrying a really heavy load here!”
“A very cute heavy load.”
“Obviously. The cutest. There is no one cuter than her.”
We’d look down at LA, sprawled out beneath us, and I’d think: I’m here in LA with Ellery O’Shea, and somehow, we are just as close as we used to be.
What a wonderful life it is. What a beautiful twist of fate.
I’d steal glances at her and try to imagine what she was thinking of in those moments as she gazed down at the city.
Iris was always full of ideas and fizz. She’d look down and see possibilities.
Parker was driven by ambition; he’d look down and see a city he wanted to own.
But Ellery was a dreamer, and I could never guess what was going through her mind.
Sometimes, I felt like she lived in two worlds, and I could never gain access into the other world that existed in her mind.
I realize this was probably what most writers are like, inhabiting two places at once, one foot in each world.
I got stupidly jealous of that other world for taking up space in her mind, but then again, I knew it was yet another reason why I was so enamored with her, because I knew I would never be able to read her as easily as I read Parker.
She was a mystery I would never be able to solve.
Once, when she got that faraway look in her eyes, I asked her, “What are you thinking of?”
She blinked, coming back to me in a flash. “I was composing a poem.”
“Tell me,” I said, my skin tingling at the thought of a poem written by Ellery.
But she never did. She was always too shy to show me any of her poetry.
I would be lying if I said that didn’t hurt.
I took it personally. Of course I did, I took everything personally back then.
It’s probably part of being young; you think the world revolves around you.
Well, I certainly did, anyway. And I thought Ellery didn’t want to show me her poetry because she thought I was too shallow to get it.
But I didn’t make a big deal because, well, how could I, when I was so enamored with her?
I’d lost her before, and it nearly broke me, and I didn’t think I could stand to lose her a second time.
Some days, Parker’s classes ran so late that he chose to stay at Westwood until rush hour was over.
It made sense; if he left during rush hour, he would’ve been stuck on the freeway for two hours.
He was making friends. Business school was full of extroverts, and he fit right in.
I’d been right about business school being a good thing for him.
He was growing into himself, gaining confidence.
He really did have a good head for business.
So when he told me that he would stay in Westwood for dinner on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, I smiled and said okay.
He felt guilty about it, at first, which made me feel guilty.
But I assured him I would be okay, even as my heart fluttered with excitement.
To assuage my own guilt, I first asked Iris if she’d like to have dinner with me.
She said she couldn’t, and again, I felt a shot of guilty pleasure at her answer.
Even though dinner with my sister would’ve been nice.
Then I texted Ellery, and she replied: See u then!
It became our thing. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings, Ellery and I would drive down to San Gabriel for dinner, mostly to Valley Boulevard.
All of our favorite haunts were still there.
Golden Deli, which had the best pho, Savoy Kitchen, which had the best Hainanese chicken rice, and Top Island Dim Sum, which had my favorite baked pork buns.
Afterward, we’d stroll over to one of the many boba tea places and get a boba milk tea each.
We’d sip our tea as we walked down the street, and more often than not, we’d turn it into a competition to see who could blow the boba the farthest. We were a menace.
The routine became something so comforting. As I went about my day, I’d randomly think: It’s Wednesday. Dinner with Ellery tonight, and my entire body would fill with a warm glow that relaxed every muscle and brought a stupid, giddy smile to my face.
Was it possible that I didn’t know how utterly in love with Ellery I was?
I knew, of course I did. She was my safe space, the one I looked forward to seeing at the end of a long day, the one whose presence made everything light and brought color into my life.
She was the one who made me belly-laugh until I wheezed for breath, and the one who I wanted to make laugh until she wheezed for breath.
I wanted to make Parker laugh too, but he and I didn’t quite have the same sense of humor, and over the years, it had become much harder to make him laugh.
With Ellery, I didn’t even have to try. She found little things I did endearing and hilarious, and she’d throw her head back and sweep me into a hug while she said, “Classic Tulip!” I never felt as funny and charming as I did when I was with Ellery.
So, yes, of course I knew. Yes, I knew that although I was technically being faithful to Parker, I was also betraying him.
I knew, and yet not once did I think about stopping.
Would you, if you had a chance to be reunited with the love of your life?
Would you not try to squeeze every possible moment to spend with her, to memorize every detail that made her, her?