23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
Elowen Briar
A Day Out That Ends With A Beau Scented Candle
My phone is warm against my ear, my hands cramping as I pace the length of my living room. Genie is quick to notice that I’m acting unusual. He retrieves his favorite stuffie and lets it down at my feet.
“I know it sounds stupid,” I say. “I swear.” The near-empty bag of dried mango peels rustles against my arm as I carry them around.
Imani doesn’t interrupt. “El,” she says gently. “Talk to me. I don’t think you’re hallucinating or anything like that. When do you feel like there’s someone watching you?”
“All the time,” I admit. “At work. At home. I turn around expecting someone to be there and of course, there’s nobody.
It’s just my client and I in the office.
Or, here at the house, it’s just Genie and I.
I did have to terminate a client yesterday, but I can’t get into that.
” I keep telling myself it’s stress, deadlines, little sleep, and way too much caffeine.
“And do you believe that someone is watching you?” She asks.
I stop pacing. “I think I just need to get out for a while,” I say. “Just for a day. Out of the house. No work. No responsibilities. Just out.”
“Okay,” Imani says immediately. No hesitation. “We are having a girls’ day. Today.”
I laugh, shakily, but relieved all the same. “If you insist.” I fill up Genie’s water bowl as we talk.
“I have to,” she replies. “Wear something comfortable, but also cute.“
“Imani. Don’t drop your off-day plans for me, seriously. I can go out and do something by myself.”
“Nope,” she says. “You aren’t allowed to argue. Plus, my whole life is what we do together. It’s work. More work. Then, a little bit of whatever we get into. See?”
“Alright. See you in thirty?”
I hear her smile through the phone. “Less than thirty if there’s no cops and David Boudareaux isn’t tracking me.”
When the call ends, the house feels eerie again. I glance toward the window, then away, annoyed at myself. Nothing is there. There never is. I’m losing it. I can see it now. Imani is going to have to tell Beau that I’ve been institutionalized. I still pull the living room curtains closed.
Imani plants a kiss on my forehead when I get into her car, marking me with her favorite vanilla lip balm. I sink into the passenger seat and let my head fall back.
“You look exhausted,” she says, starting the engine.
“Because I am,” I reply.
She reaches over and squeezes my knee. “Then, today you don’t think. Today, you simply exist.”
We start with coffee, on the opposite end of town, avoiding Beau’s bookstore.
My request. It’s the good kind that costs too much and feels too pretty to drink.
Imani insists we sit outside even though the air is cool.
She says fresh air fixes everything. I’m not convinced, but I wrap my hands around the cup and let the steam warm my face.
“Send a picture of you being all cute to Beau,” she says.
I hesitate. I haven’t texted Beau today and was hoping he would initiate. We’ve texted for days on end at this point. “I said I would wear something cute, not that it would make me cute.” I say finally, taking a sip of my warm cup.
“I said you look tired, not that you’re the ugliest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Throw a filter on that bad boy and send it on over.” That earns her a laugh.
“Fine, I’ll let you take it.” I unlock my phone and pass it over to Imani so she can snap a candid photo to share with Beau. It would probably be nice for him to know that I do more than work anyways.
She nods at my phone as she positions the camera, but I’m genuinely staring at the street. A man passes by, glancing in our direction, and my shoulders tense before I can stop it.
Imani follows my gaze. “Hey,” she says softly. “You’re safe. You’re with me.” The man throws us a wave and keeps moving. Just a regular guy, Elowen. You’re fine. Imani is right. Per usual. She snaps the photo of me and I choose not to filter it. There is no second thought. I hit send.
To: Beau Drewitt:
Thought you might want to know what I’m up to today. I am spending some time with Imani. You are free from my torture of endless dad-jokes… for now.
Imani glances around, but gets visibly upset as she clicks her bluetooth ear piece to answer a phone call.
“The fuck do you want, Richard? I am off today. O-F-F. Do you know what that means?” She holds her index finger over the microphone.
“I’m going to step away and see what’s going on.
I’ll be right here. I promise.” I nod my head.
Just as Imani goes to leave, Beau texts back.
From: Beau Drewitt:
I have nothing appropriate to say. I mean, seriously. Not a single appropriate thing. Other than just, you’re beautiful. :)
This is the first direct flirt I’ve received from him.
My heart does cart-wheels inside my chest. What should I say?
Is it too soon to tell him how I feel? I feel the same, Beau Drewitt.
I can get to the bookstore in less than an hour as long as Imani will give me a ride.
My poor car is still at the shop. Fuck me.
To: Beau Drewitt:
Thought it might put a smile on your solemn face. Hope you’re having a good day.
Solid, Elowen. Nice. I click the power button and place my phone back on the table.
A group of kids on skateboards roll by the bistro table that Imani and I chose.
The sound of the kids causes my mind to whirl with thoughts of the future.
If this works out between Beau and I, maybe I have a real shot at a life that Grandma would be proud of.
She’d be proud as long as I don’t end up on the front page of the newspaper though.
From: Beau Drewitt:
Seeing you in general will always put a smile on my “solemn” face. Enjoy your time with her. Kai is… Well. Kai. Lovely and not annoying at all. Per usual.
To: Beau Drewitt:
#justiceforkaiforhavingtoputupwithyou
From: Beau Drewitt:
Hilarious, Ms. Briar. Maybe therapy isn’t your niche. Maybe it’s comedy.
To: Beau Drewitt:
Rude.
Gtg. Imani is done yelling at her coworker. <3
From: Beau Drewitt:
Better him than you?
After Imani’s phone call and finishing just one more cup of coffee, we wander through a small candle shop. I trail my fingers along lids, picking each up and offering a smell to Imani. The sweet scents ground me and I do start to feel better.
“You see,” she says. “This girls’ day was exactly what you needed. I can tell you feel better already.”
Imani Boudareaux is continuously right. It should be written into law that whatever she stands by, must be true.
We buy everything, but nothing, at the same time.
Imani spends her wallet like today is her last day.
I settle for a candle that smells like Beau and a new dog mat to place under Genie’s water bowl.
Imani buys five extra large three-wick candles and a new purse.
Time stretches and loosens. At lunch, we split some of the best fries we’ve ever had and talk about nothing important: reminiscing on a bad date she went on last year, a show I half-watched while answering emails, and whether or not she should get an animal.
The kind of conversation that doesn’t demand anything from me.
The kind of conversation that makes you realize how amazing life is when you’re surrounded with the right people.
Still, every so often, I feel it again. That prickle between my shoulder blades leaves me with the urge to turn around. Each time, Imani notices.
“Should we swap sides,” she asks once, when I apologize for checking behind us again. “I’m watching for you, I promise.”
In the afternoon, we end up at a park by the water.
It’s warmer than usual today. Thankfully, Silas Lake is very vast. We are on the complete opposite side of Darkwater here.
The lake easily takes up half of the city.
Imani lays down a fleece blanket from her trunk and we kick off our shoes to sit in the grass.
A rarity for me, considering I freeze, but I’m willing to fight the cold wind that Imani refers to as a light breeze.
The sky is pale blue, clouds drifting slowly like they have nowhere urgent to be.
“This is nice,” I say, “cold, but nice.”
“This was necessary and it’s not cold, Elowen Briar. It’s fifty degrees.” Imani corrects.
I lie back, pulling the extra blanket around me, still staring up. For the first time in days, my chest loosens. The feeling doesn’t disappear completely, but it quiets, like a radio turned low. “Thank you,” I say. “For not telling me I’m just being ridiculous.”
She snorts. “If we really are about to get sappy, I will only ever tell you the truth. If you genuinely believe something is fishy, I believe you. Some days our friendship is the only thing I have to look forward to. The least I can do is step back from my job and be more involved.”
“You’re my best friend.” I lean up to wrap my arms around her.
Maybe, it is all in my head. Maybe, it’s not. No matter what, I have my favorite person in the world to lean on no matter what.