Chapter 18 #2
She gives me one last kiss at the corner of my mouth, then she quietly trudges up the stairs to her bedroom with her mug. “I’ll text you a list,” Lana murmurs.
I watch her disappear up the stairs before I retreat to the kitchen.
I attempt to salvage the coffee in my mug by heating it up in the microwave.
I wish I could let the coffee go cold because I was upstairs with her, holding her back to sleep.
When it has twenty seconds left, my phone dings with a text. Lana’s list.
Lana
Groceries: tomatoes, strawberries, lemons, flour, sugar, milk (lactose free), orange juice (no pulp), apples, bananas, vanilla ice cream, eggs, bacon
Christian
Anything else?
Lana
Buy nail polish (Essie ballet slippers!!!) and nail polish remover.
Oh, and toilet paper
And toothpaste
She tells me the nail color as though I’ve forgotten the only nail polish color she’s ever used religiously.
Christian
That’s all? I thought it’d be longer
Lana
You’re hilarious, have fun on your chore tour
Goodnight
I huff. Chore tour, she’s calling it?
I suppose I can still learn a thing or two about this domestic life she keeps scolding me about.
The town’s supermarket is huge, probably even bigger now than I remember. They’ve renovated it and taken away the horrifying red, brown, yellow clash they’d had since I was a kid.
Now it’s brighter and the entire space feels much more open. It also smells better.
I lose track of my surroundings and stop pushing the cart when I go down a particular aisle. Last time I stopped for groceries, it was a quick trip. I didn’t browse the aisles for other things we might need other than the milk and juice my baby asked for.
My hands are curled into tight fists, one on the handle of the cart and the other at my side. I’m frozen in this aisle like it’s the test of a lifetime. Like I don’t know if I’ll make it out alive.
This should be easy, shouldn’t it? I want a drink. I don’t need it the way I used to these days though. But there is always that echo of what if?
Stick to her list, I tell myself. Again and again.
You have a list.
Read the list.
My eyes moved across the labels and brands instead. Supermarket wine isn’t great, especially not here. The beer is subpar—regular old beers that you can find pretty much anywhere.
Six packs of them.
There’s a liquor store down the shopping center. They have the better names, I’m sure of it. Don Q. Patrón. Don Julio. Absolute. Grey Goose. Smirnoff. Tito’s. Casa Azul. Svedka.
They have everything better than this shitty selection here.
My fists uncurl and my fingers rake into my hair, tugging at the strands. I think back to this morning, how beautiful Lana looked after waking up unreasonably early for no reason. She said I needed a haircut, and she might be right. It’s a tiny bit longer, longer than I like it.
I scratch at the thicker stubble around my jaw and itch to shave it all off. Everything. Fuck.
I say her name in my head nearly a hundred times. I picture her smile and the pair of dimples it comes with.
My phone rings in my pocket and I sigh, relieved, taking it out.
Lana Aurora
I answer immediately. “Lana..”
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
Breathless with a shaky hand, I say, “Nothing, why?”
“I— I don’t know,” she says, unconvinced. “Just got…a feeling. Are you sure you’re okay?”
A feeling. That’s the best part about having a soulmate like this, I think—just knowing because that tether that keeps you tied together, no matter how far apart, is like a string between two cans. It echoes and relays everything, back and forth.
I turn away from the alcohol and continue pushing the cart down the aisle. “I’m okay,” I rasp. “Just in the supermarket. I’m almost done.”
“Okay,” Lana speaks softly, and the image of her lips saying the word floods my mind. Her soft, plump lips saying a four lettered word before she kisses me with them, killing the monsters, slaying the demons, and putting an end to the nightmares. The way she always does.
It was always that simple.
“Did you go back to sleep?”
“Yeah,” she whispers. “I did. Thank you. I just got to the bookstore.”
“Then I’ll let you get to work,” I say, pausing at the refrigerators and grabbing the lactose-free milk.
“The boss says I’m early, so I’m good to talk to my boyfriend for a few minutes.”
My stomach flutters. I grab a carton of dozen eggs with a silly grin. “Yeah? Your boss sounds nice.”
“She is when she wants to be,” Lana chuckles. “She’s got this real femme fatale vibe. She throws shoes around a lot too.”
I laugh with a tub of ice cream in my hand. “I’ve heard the same rumors.”
Softer, she asks, “Are you okay, Christian?”
“I am, why?”
“Just…a feeling. You can tell me…”
Lana pauses, but I exhale slowly and say the first thing I think of. “I know, baby. I will.”
“Are you sure?” A beat of silence before she says, “Whatever it is, I’m here. Whatever you need.”
I exhale shakily. “I think I’ll just need you later.”
“The Office and cuddle?”
I smile, turning away from the cheap alcohol. “Yes. I just need to hold you, Lana.”
“Hmm,” she hums. “Or for me to hold you?”
“Both.”
Lana huffs a laugh. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”
“Yes,” I tell her. “And I’ll even put away your groceries.”
“I’ll be sure to leave a good tip.”
I smile. “Have a good day at work, baby.”
“I’ll see you at home,” she says, and it’s almost enough. Home.
I find the rest of the things on her grocery list as quick as I can to get the hell out of this shopping strip.
I’m sure on the outside, I look crazed and frantic, and I feel that same way on the inside as I get into my car and drive away.
Far away from the six packs of beer and the liquor store, my hands shaking on the steering wheel.
I’m stronger than this, I know that. I’ve come too far and I’m not going to give up on it—or her. I’m not losing everything again. No, I’m not doing that!
Using voice command, I dial Terrance. It rings four times before he answers with, “Calloway.”
“Hey,” I rasp. “What—What are you doing?”
A beat of silence before he says, “Working?”
I exhale heavily and run my fingers through my hair, coming to a stop at the light. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“I was just at the supermarket,” I tell him, hand curled tightly around the wheel.
“Ahh.” Terrance chuckles raspy and hoarsely. “Aisle nine? Or was it the liquor store two shops over?”
I snort. “Both, I think.”
“It’s weird, isn’t it?”
My voice is shaky. “What is?”
“Having more power over it than it does over you for once,” he says.
I shake my head, throat burning and tightening. “Doesn’t feel that way right now.”
“The fact that you called me and drove away is enough proof.”
I suppose he’s right. My only response is a grunt before he says, “You’re stronger than you think. Go find your girl, kid. That’s who you need right now.”
“Yeah,” I croak. “I do.”
“Alright then. You call me if you’re still feeling like this, got it? I’ll answer right away.”
“Yes, sir.”
After he hangs up, I feel slightly…fine. I have to have had some power to walk and drive away.
Driving aimlessly around town now, I come across a home furniture store.
I pull into the parking lot and roam around the store for a bit, wondering what I’d put in a house for me and Lana.
I’d build her a reading room, a place to put all her books and paint it yellow and fill it with sunflowers.
I’d put floor to ceiling shelves and a ladder that glides around.
As if I manifested it, I see it right in front of me at the end of the aisle. I don’t think about it as I lift two large boxes onto a cart, pay for them, and somehow manage to fit them in my car.
I finish the rest of her list, picking up the flowers I always buy for her now, and then some. I find the nail polish color she’s been using religiously for years.
It’s noon by the time I let myself into Lana’s house and I think about how she used to arrange her books in the past.
Lana always changed it up. Sometimes she arranged them so they’d look like a giant rainbow across the shelves. Sometimes she’d do it by author or genre. One of her favorite things to do was to empty the shelves and reorganize the entire thing.
I’ll let her decide how she wants them on the shelves when she gets home. And I can’t wait to help her.