Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Thirty-nine
Iris stopped at Rapacine’s house on her way home, ostensibly to see how her legal consultation with Mike was going, but truly, Iris needed a friend. Mme Rapacine always had a unique perspective, and Iris could use any voice other than the self-recriminating ones inside her head.
Rapacine had opera music playing on a turntable, the apartment smelled wonderful, as usual, and Iris felt the tension in her shoulders ease as soon as she crossed the threshold.
She was greeting the boy cat, Chéri, when she glanced to the kitchen and saw Rapacine already had company.
A well-dressed brunette sat at her kitchen island.
Iris reflexively apologized and said she could come back later.
Rapacine dismissed her with a wave of her jeweled fingers. “Nonsense. Iris, meet—”
“Sofia Morales!” Iris said in surprise, immediately recognizing the famous face from TV and social media.
Sofia was a co-host on a popular round-table daytime talk show, Between Us, and the first trans woman host on network television.
“Oh my gosh, I love your ‘Can I Just Say?’ segments, I always agree with you!”
“I’m glad, because I know this mouth is gonna get me fired someday.” Sofia laughed warmly, her teeth dazzling white.
Rapacine introduced her. “Iris is a dear friend and neighbor. She is the one who is trying to help me win my case against the evil overlords.” She poured Iris a glass of wine, and Iris joined them at the kitchen island.
“Thank God for you, then! Mireille is the Good Witch of the West Village, they can’t make her leave!
” Sofia joked. “I tried pitching my producer your story as part of a larger housing crisis package, but they didn’t bite, I’m sorry.
You know they keep me sequestered on the social issues, they give all the hard news to Kaitlin. ”
“Don’t worry about me, but keep trying for your news. You’ve made your own path so far, why stop now?”
“How do you two know each other?” Iris asked.
Sofia and Rapacine exchanged a look. Then Rapacine answered, “Sofia fostered my kittens before I adopted them.”
“That’s how we met, and Mireille is kind to leave it at that.
Kind now and kind then. But I’m not too ashamed to tell you the truth.
I was a mess. I had just dropped out of Columbia journalism school, I was early in my transition, freshly cut off from my family, in crisis, and keeping those kittens alive was probably what kept me alive.
Then I met Mireille, and she rescued all three of us.
She let me live here while I got my head and heart straight.
She made me believe in myself when I was at my lowest.” Tears glossed her hazel eyes.
“I only wanted you to sense in yourself that which I could sense a mile away.” Rapacine reached out to cover Sofia’s manicured hand with hers.
Then Sofia glanced at her watch. “I should head out. I have an early train to DC tomorrow and I still have to decide on looks with my stylist. I’m going to interview the vice president about trans rights in schools.”
Rapacine clasped her hands together. “I’m so proud of you.” They hugged.
Sofia pointed at her. “But you can’t tell anyone else about it until we promote it next week.”
“You know I can keep a secret.”
They both laughed.
“Ah, I almost forgot! Un moment.” Rapacine went into her bedroom and emerged with a box wrapped in brown paper and a sprig of lavender tucked into the twine, and handed it to Sofia. “Keep it with you.” And kissed both her cheeks.
Then Sofia went to say goodbye to Iris, who couldn’t help but ask, “Could I get a picture?”
“Not here, sorry. But I’ll give you my card, keep in touch.”
“Oh sure, no worries. It was nice meeting you.” Iris took her pink business card and they hugged goodbye. Sofia smelled so delicious, like caramel cake with lemon icing and something fresh and aromatic— lavender —that Iris almost didn’t want to let her go.
After Sofia left, Iris said, “I hope I didn’t make her rush out.”
“She only needed to pick up that package. Her schedule is very demanding.”
“I’m sure. She’s famous! Crazy that you two are close.”
“You want to know more.” Nothing got by Rapacine.
“I do.” Iris leaned forward. “But I also got the feeling I’m not supposed to know. So, if you don’t want to tell me—”
“She smelled good, no?” Rapacine had a satisfied smile on her face. “She is another recipient of my extraordinary perfume.”
“She has my perfume?”
“Of course not. These rare few are bespoke fragrances for one wearer and one wearer only. But you are not my first.”
“That was one of yours…” Iris had felt overwhelmed by what she chalked up to Sofia’s star power, but maybe it was that spectacular gourmand scent.
“Her secret weapon. She was picking up a fresh bottle. She’ll need it if she wants to get Madam Vice President to say anything interesting.”
Iris sighed. “Sofia parlayed her perfume into an audience at the White House, and I’ve somehow made a complete hash of my life. I don’t even know if I want to wear mine anymore. But it’s my fault, maybe I just can’t handle the attention. I failed your perfume.”
“ Pardon? The last time we spoke you had just gotten your dream job and you were dating a passionate artist with a big—”
“It all became a complete mess over the weekend. I can’t trust the good things that have come into my life since I got the perfume, I don’t even feel like I can trust myself with it.
I don’t know if Gabe really likes me, I don’t know if I’m up to this task at Wolff Dev, it has challenged some of my oldest friendships.
” Her eyes welled with tears as she took a shaky breath.
“I don’t know what’s real anymore, and I feel like I’m on the verge of losing control of… everything.”
“And you think you had control before?” Although Rapacine could be quite motherly at other times, when faced with Iris’s tears she rarely appeared moved.
“Were you in control when your partner of five years decided he did not feel like marrying you? Were you in control when you were toiling at a job for nearly a decade without advancement, compensated by only a pat on the head?”
“Ouch.” Iris raked her fingers through her hair.
“I don’t say this to hurt you. I say it to wake you up.
Most bad things that happen to us are completely out of our control, it is dumb luck.
And then some bad things happen to us because we are not claiming the control we do have, you give your power away or lay waste to it with worry and self-doubt.
You must learn to tell the difference or you won’t make it. ”
“But how can I accept good things if I got them for the wrong reasons?”
“Syndrome of the impostor!” Rapacine shook her head. “You don’t feel worthy of these good things, these opportunities, these pleasures, but you are . You have always been worthy! Getting what you want can be the scariest thing in the world. Because then you have something to lose.”
“But could the perfume be making me more likely to lose it? It made me downright reckless with my boss. On the beach with Jonathan, I smelled my wrist and slipped into the fantasy of the scent, and I kissed him .”
“So it made you take a chance.”
Iris shook her head. “I was completely unprofessional. I don’t know what our work dynamic will be like now.”
“You were human . You were being yourself, unfiltered.”
“No, it wasn’t me at all. I’m not impulsive.”
“Your entire personality is not superego, don’t you want to know the woman beneath ?”
“Maybe I don’t trust her! Kissing Jonathan was a mistake, among others.”
“So, make a mistake. Act, choose, err, fuck. To live is a verb, Iris.”
Iris didn’t know if she could live with the consequences.
“Look at Sofia. When I met her, she had shrunk to the most invisible version of herself, no needs, no bother, a tiny cactus blending with the rocks. I made her a perfume not to change her, but to help her bloom. You cannot hide with a beautiful perfume, it will announce your entrance to a room, fill a space larger than your arms can touch, and linger when you leave—Sofia needed to learn she deserved this presence. To trust that she could live as her authentic self and be seen and desired as such. One could be crass and say that it helped her to ‘pass,’ but no, it helped her pass through, through the fog of self-doubt, and let the world see her as she truly is: a bright, charismatic, and beautiful woman. And now she is fully herself, celebrated for her identity and opinions, an inspiration for others. She has a successful career in television—mind you, no one can smell her through the screen, and yet she is a star! Because she always was. She always possessed the qualities that have made her a success, the fragrance simply made them evident.”
“To others.”
“To herself.”
Suddenly, they were startled as heavy metal music began blasting overhead, the bass so loud it shook the light fixtures.
“What is that?” Iris raised her voice over the noise.
“Iron Maiden,” Rapacine shouted back.
Iris squinted at her in confusion and discomfort.
The older woman made hand gestures to the words: “Let’s go for a walk.”
—
The music could be heard from the sidewalk, but no longer at a volume Iris felt in her back teeth.
Rapacine explained, “It’s the latest escalation in my tenant harassment. Although it is laughable that they thought they would scare me with metal music. I lived in London in the seventies, although I preferred the punk scene.”
“But the decibel level. Did you tell Mike about this?”
“I spoke to his lovely associate. Toni told me to make a record of every time it happens. Easy, because it plays every day at seven a.m. , six p.m ., and nine p.m., carefully within the boundaries of noise ordinances. The speakers must be on a timer.”
“That’s outrageous. You can’t live like this.”