Chapter 31
Hua Jiali
Qing dynasty. Jiali’s mother despaired of her moli’s appearance and celebrated with fireworks when it finally arrived.
Heart note // Dissolve anger in others
Base note // Cardamom
“Happy birthday!” I give Ana her gift, the new custom fragrance I’ve made her, which is Mom-approved, albeit after a few rounds of impassioned discussion and subsequent modifications. She takes it with reverence, then laughs when she sees what I’ve named it. “Rainbow Sprinkles?”
“You’ll see why. Oh my God, what are you doing? You don’t know if you’re going to like it.”
Ana has already uncapped the bottle and is spraying it liberally.
“Shame on you for thinking so low of both me and you.” She breathes in and then sniffs her wrist, her eyes closed.
“Oh, wild. I thought it would smell like a rainbow cookie—you know, the ones with the jimmies that melt into the icing and leave a little halo of color?”
“What do you smell?” I ask.
“I’ve been practicing,” she says proudly. “Your mom was helping me. I think there’s…” She sniffs again. “Coconut? Umm, yeah. It’s sweet, like baking. Maybe chocolate?”
“You told me you can bake three things,” I say. “Snickerdoodles, that huge cookie, and sugar pie.”
She buries her face in her arm, her neatly trimmed nails a vivid green. “Cinnamon?”
I nod. “It’s got notes from each of those desserts, but with some pine and some smoke, so it’s like you’re camping. You once said you wanted to go as a kid, but your family never went.”
Ana’s expression drops, and I wonder if I’ve made a terrible mistake. Have I gotten too personal? I wanted to make something uniquely her and try to tell her how much her friendship has meant to me.
To my relief, she comes forward and gives me a hug.
For the first time, I don’t strain away from her touch as the luscious scent rises, reminding me of the time she came to my apartment.
I’ll invite her for dinner when Mom is gone.
Or maybe while she’s here. Mom would love it, and it would be nice to have Ana over.
“I love this,” she says. “Love this. I know I said I wanted it just for me, but it’s a bonus that Jayne is going to faint.”
“Good, because I made her one too.” I pass Ana another bottle. “It complements yours, so when the two of you are together, the notes will blend.”
She stares at it in astonishment. “Like when you hold all the blotters together? I’ve seen you do that.”
“Yeah, but I’ve never done it with a couple’s perfume, so I hope it works as planned. Hers has more of the woodiness because she loves taking Roscoe to High Park.”
Ana laughs. “This is crass and capitalist of me, but holy shit, I have the best idea. We can do this for our jewelry line. Couples’ jewelry, with matching or complementary scents.”
“There could be a market. I did have that guy come in for matching wedding fragrances.” We’re looking through her designs when Jayne comes into the store to take Ana out for dinner. She sniffs the air as she comes near. “Wow, something smells good. Is that you, pretty?”
“Lucy made it for me.”
Jayne dips her head down to nuzzle Ana’s neck. “It’s incredible. Like baking but better.”
“Here’s yours!” Ana holds it out, but Jayne hesitates before she takes it and gives me an uncertain glance.
“You made me one?”
We explain the concept, and although Jayne looks intrigued, she doesn’t smell it. “If you don’t like it, it’s cool,” I tell her gently. “Perfume isn’t for everyone and you don’t have to worry about me feeling bad.”
“Actually, I’ve never seen you wear it before. Smelled you, I should say. Do you not like perfume?” Ana looks suddenly guilty. “Oh no, I wear it all the time.”
Jayne shakes her head violently. “No, no, I do. It’s just…
” She sighs. “Fuck. Okay, don’t laugh, but when I was younger, I loved colognes and cedars and woods and herby smells.
Men’s stuff. I didn’t want to wear them because I didn’t want people to think I was gay, so I wore the lightest of light flowers instead.
It always felt wrong.” She laughs, a short brittle thing. “Sounds silly when I say it out loud.”
Ana wraps her arms around Jayne. “Not at all. It makes a lot of sense. I’m sorry.”
Jayne shrugs and kisses her cheek. “It was a long time ago, and I’m secure in who I am.”
Ana hands over the bottle. “Why don’t you take a sniff? People reject Lucy’s perfume all the time. She gets it.”
“I mean, I prefer to call it making modifications, but yeah.” I’m humbled by what Jayne told me, because in all my years of perfume making, and despite knowing smells bring back memory, it never occurred to me that something I loved so much could be so fraught for Jayne.
I want to make her feel easy in whatever she decides.
“I can always tweak it to make it what you want, or do a new one. Truly, you don’t have to take it at all. I understand.”
“You can change it?” Jayne’s dark eyes are serious. “I never thought that was something I could do.”
“You can,” I assure her. “I can help you make it whatever you want.”
I hand over a few blotters so she doesn’t feel pressured to use it on her skin, then go to the back so she can simply experience it instead of worrying about performing a reaction in front of me.
By the time I come out, Jayne is sniffing her wrist and smiling. “It’s nice,” she says. “Kind of like what I used to sneak from my dad’s room.”
“Sit with it for a few days and see what you think,” I say. “It’ll change over time.”
She nods, still sniffing with that little smile, and Ana drops me a wink. “It’s all good,” she whispers as Jayne heads for the door. “She’s happy you thought of her—and holy shit, does she smell hot. Almost as good as me.”
The two leave. I lock up, wincing as I struggle with the lock since my hands are aching and blistered from yesterday’s planting, and head out to meet Rafe.
It almost feels like a reward, to be able to sit with him again.
No, reward is the wrong word, even though I do feel like I’m working for it.
It’s more of a gift. Rafe was right in that we’re lucky to have a second chance.
With every text he sends, I rediscover more of the yearning I thought I tucked away.
It’s bittersweet to have him so close, because he’s shrouded with the ache of all those years apart.
It doesn’t tarnish what we have, but the recollection of life without him lingers like a threat.
If Ana was with me, she’d smack me for being so maudlin. I’m about to smack myself for being so maudlin. “Enjoy the moment,” I say, to the astonishment of the woman passing by with a small brown dog dressed in a down cape.
“You got it,” she says, stepping to the side to give me a wide berth.
The place Rafe has chosen is like an highly curated indoor campsite, and he’s lounging in a double-seater ivory canvas folding chair. Behind him, the floor steps down to more folding chairs and a pebble floor. The walls look like bamboo, and the rest of the space is the epitome of lo-fi cool.
The night is chilly for spring, and Rafe wears a knit hoodie under a blazer.
When he smiles as he stands to greet me, I have a strange moment.
This Rafe is the teenage crush and the adult friend and potential lover all combined.
My past, present, and future, where memory and reality overlap and then blur.
A woman in the corner keeps casting little glances at him, and I don’t blame her. Since Rafe was reading a book while he waited, he’s wearing a pair of glasses I’ve never seen before. It gives him a sexy librarian look I like. “Are you nervous?” he asks when I reach his table.
I am, a bit, but how does he know? I tilt my head in question and he nods to my ear. “You play with your earring when you’re anxious,” he says. “The right one.”
I lower myself slowly into the folding chair across from Rafe. Mom and I smothered ourselves in Tiger Balm last night, and the menthol reek clings to me as a reminder of physical labor and aging.
He sees me clutch my lower back. “Aches from the planting?” he asks.
I show him my hands and he holds them, palm up, to inspect the blisters. “Damn,” he says. “I could have helped.”
“I know. I appreciated the offer yesterday.”
He nods. “Anytime. Do you have some more photos?”
By the time we finish talking about the plants, I’ve calmed down enough to enjoy this time with Rafe instead of thinking about the fact I’m spending time with Rafe.
“How did you find this place?” There was no sign outside, and I had to wander around until I figured out how to get in.
“I had a few locations to look at in the neighborhood, and one of my clients mentioned it. I came for coffee and loved it.”
I can see why. It’s mellow, and some Japan city-sound playlist plays over the surrounding quiet conversation. Rafe has never liked loud places where he has to shout to be heard.
“Do you want a drink?”
I nod. “Surprise me.” I say it automatically. It’s another habit that carried over from when we were younger—for everything from choosing which movie to watch to the flavor of ice cream to buy.
He comes back with a golden-brown drink decorated with the most perfect sprig of mint I’ve ever seen. I sip it to savor the flavors. The leather of the whiskey, a touch of vanilla, and the mint over a bit of sugar. The ice cube is a single sphere.
“Mint julep,” he says.
“It’s perfect.”
He looks pleased and we switch drinks without saying a word to taste the other’s. I usually hate sharing food, but it’s different with Rafe. It’s always been different with him.
“Nice.” He approves. “How was your day, apart from the muscle pain from digging?”