Chapter 40
Hua Lijing
Lived through the Japanese invasion and worked with her grandmother to bring the family to Canada.
Heart note // Stop heartbreak
Base note // Chypre
This time when I get home, I’m not surprised to see Ana sitting out front of my apartment building in the fading evening sun, waiting for me.
“I brought snacks,” she says.
I grin at her and hold up a bag from the corner store. “I bought ice cream.”
We go up, chatting about nothing in particular, just enjoying the conversation. In the kitchen, Ana uncovers a monster of a cookie.
“I made one for my mother too,” she says. “She said it was better than she could make.”
“Really?”
“I nearly passed out. Maria had to pinch me, and she told Fernanda to shut up when Ferd said it would be better with nuts, like how she makes cookies.”
“Nuts are gross.”
“That’s what I said, and then she sulked until Mom told her to grow up.” Ana beams. “It was a great moment in my life. Tell me about your trip. All fixed?”
Since we kept in touch while I was gone, there isn’t much to update her on. I relay the latest discussion with my mother and then sit back.
She looks at me expectantly. “And?”
“And what? I don’t know how it’s going to work out, but I think it will.”
Ana looks exasperated. “You talked to your brother and Kelsey. Your mom.”
“I did.”
“Aren’t you missing something? Someone.”
“Dad was on a trip.” I texted him and he said although he and Mom were splitting, I would always be his daughter.
Which was nice, but a little concerning since I hadn’t thought that would change.
I sent it to Eric, and he replied with a screenshot of Dad’s text to him, which replaced son for daughter, and we exchanged a series of laughing emojis.
“That’s too bad, but not who I meant.”
“I know what you’re going to say. I didn’t talk to Rafe.”
“Why not?”
“You know why. He was away.”
She goes to my cupboard to take out the dulce de leche. “Did you text him?”
“No.”
“So you didn’t talk. After being childhood friends, having a misunderstanding, deciding you wanted to work through it, accusing him of being your mom’s pawn to get you home—which is weird, by the way—you did nothing. You are the queen of self-sabotage.”
I grew up knowing emotions could be influenced, and the last decade of being on my own shows that if there’s an attachment style past avoidant, that’s probably where I sit. Escapist? Disappearing? I crumble the suddenly tasteless cookie in my fingers. “I sent him some perfume.”
“So he thinks you’re trying to enchant him.”
“No!” I sit bolt upright, horrified. “Do you think he will?”
“What did the note say?”
“I didn’t add one.”
She stares at me and shakes her head.
I groan. “I screwed up, okay? There was so much history, and I don’t think I was in the right headspace.”
“Clearly not.”
“I wanted him to know I was sorry.”
“Still could have put that on a note.”
“I want to say it in person.”
“I just had a thought.” Ana licks her spoon thoughtfully. “Have you dated much in general?”
I shake my head.
“You could broaden your horizons,” she says. “You’ve been fixated on this guy for years. You might benefit from seeing the rest of the dating pool.” She looks suddenly grim. “Or not, actually. It’s a pool with a lot of sharks.”
It’s an idea. “But I miss Rafe.”
“Do you miss him or just want to be with someone?”
“Him?” I hadn’t thought about it like that.
“I know a cool guy,” she says hesitantly. “If you want to try? He’s Jayne’s cousin, so it’s close enough that you have some external validation he’s not horrible, but it’s not so close you have to see him all the time if it’s a bust.”
“What’s he like?”
“Cute. Funny. Has a cat he got from me, a job he likes, and he talks to his exes but not in a creepy way.”
“Why’s he single?” I drop some caramel on my shirt and smear it away. No big deal.
“I dunno, he didn’t smell your desire perfume? Why is anyone these days?”
It almost kills me to say yes, but she’s right. How do I really know what I felt for Rafe? What if it was only the weight of memory and nostalgia that linked us?
“Okay,” I say.
“Nothing like enthusiasm!” She nudges me. “You don’t have to, you know.”
“I want to try.”
She looks at me carefully. “It’s only coffee or a drink,” she reminds me.
“You can end it anytime. You might realize you would work as friends. What ruins these things is the fantasy of a potential future and what a person could be in your life, rather than experiencing it for what it is in the moment.”
“Poetic.”
“I got it from Jayne. She’s seen a lot of dates at the bar.”
“Does she have any other advice?”
Ana nods. “Say no to something at least once to see how they respond. If they keep pressuring you to change your mind, nope on out.”
“Jayne should write a dating-advice book.” I think for a beat and then brighten up. “Or an advice column! She’d be great.”
Ana sighs. “Yeah. She would be. She’s so smart.”
We finish up the cookie, and I wrap up a huge chunk of the leftovers to give to my new friend down the hall as a neighborly gesture. I’ve only emptied half of my suitcase when a text comes from Ana. It’s a phone number.
Ana: His name is Matt and he’s waiting for you to text him. When you want. If you want.
I stare at the number as another message comes through.
Ana: No pressure, honest.
Me: Thanks.
I toss the phone onto my bed and keep unpacking, thinking back to all the pivotal moments in my life when I acted to make things worse instead of better. Because at a certain point, I could absolve myself of any responsibility to fix it. Things would simply be unfixable.
Is Rafe unfixable? Am I self-sabotaging right now by agreeing to go on a date with this guy?
The question haunts me as I go to sleep, wishing, yet again, that my own moli worked on me.
***
The next day, I talk myself out of texting Matt until the evening. I don’t want to look too eager, after all, or disturb him at work. It makes sense to hold off for a bit. Plus, I need to decide what to say.
The day goes by quickly enough. The Pulse Points have become bestsellers and have started making more influencer and blog lists, so I fix up the front window to prominently display our new jewelry.
“Here,” says Ana, handing me a vase. “Tie one of the necklaces around the neck of this. It’ll look cool. ”
It’s pure white with little knobs, and a chip out of the base makes me shudder. I twist it around and put it—with the necklace—in the window. Ana likes it, so I let it be.
“What do you think about having your mom sell Pulse Points in Vancouver?” Ana asks during a lull. “Broaden our market.”
“I’ll ask her.” I talked to her earlier, and she was full of plans after a conversation with Missy’s fashion designer friend, who sounded like a perfect match for my mother’s style.
She sent me his lookbook, and Ana and I gasped at his designs: gorgeously constructed modern interpretations of old Shanghai.
They’ve decided to give up the Burrard store and open up in a hipper part of town.
Mom’s already hired someone to put a vault for the Hua perfume collection in the house, which she’s going to keep after apparently much negotiation with Dad.
“Do it now.” She looks back out the window. “Oh, Priscilla and Elvis are holding hands and looking at your garden. That’s sweet.”
Elvis bends down to pluck a sprig of lavender, which he tucks behind Priscilla’s ear. It’s surprisingly chaste for the two of them, and she looks thrilled.
“Good for them,” approves Ana.
The message comes back from Mom, and I turn to Ana. “She’s happy to be a distributor,” I say. “She also has some ideas about what would work well in the market there. We could do limited editions.”
“Love it.” She looks over fondly at the table display. “Have you thought about contacting Matt?”
“I’m going to do it after work today.”
“Whenever you want,” she says softly. “It’s totally up to you. You might want to…”
Her voice trails off as she glances out the window. “Oh, that is a man. You should forget Matt and go for that guy.”
“What?” I turn around, then stop, because at the door stands a gorgeous man dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans. “Rafe?”
We all stand there for a moment, and then Ana clears her throat. “Uh, welcome.”
“Oh. Ana, this is Rafe. Rafe, Ana.”
“Hi? Nice to meet you.” She gives me a look.
He nods to show he heard her. I haven’t moved because I know there’s no way I want to text Matt or any other man. Rafe has always been mine.
Ana waits but senses I don’t know what to do. “Why don’t you show Rafe the garden?” she finally suggests, like a chaperone looking for an acceptable activity. “Or go for a walk?”
“Ah, excuse me?” a woman’s voice comes from behind Rafe. “Are you going in?”
That breaks the spell, and he mumbles an excuse as he steps aside, eyes not leaving me. Two women come in and head straight for the Pulse Points display. Ana gives me a little shove, and I know I can’t avoid this talk anymore.
I don’t want to. Avoidance hasn’t worked out so well for me after all. As I approach him, the smell of tobacco and bergamot draws me in. “It came in the mail,” he says.
He follows me out to the garden, where Jayne has added a little bench that’s become a beacon for social media influencers.
Ana and I don’t mind, although it would be great if more of them bought something from us instead of using it to document hauls from other shops.
On this cool afternoon, it’s only Rafe and me.
“My mother said you were in Vancouver,” he says.
“I was.” We sit down and I don’t wait. “I’m sorry,” I say. “Our fight was my fault. I was angry, and I took it out on you. I was a complete asshole. I got a whole lot of things in my head, and everything rolled into this tsunami of wrongness. I was wrong about everything.”
“Do you still think I had some nefarious deal with your mother?”
I do my best not to cringe. “I do not—although to be clear, I thought she was using you and you had no idea.”