She felt the familiar buzz that reminded her of him spreading from her lips to her face and all the way through her body, and she screamed, throwing the pie across the room as well. It hit the side of the wall that separated the kitchen and living room, splattering across the purple paint. In a frantic haze she pulled out her phone and called Julien. It rang and rang and rang. She cried, and sobs squeezed every ounce of air out of her body when he didn’t answer.
42
Julien
Julien let the door slam behind him and tossed his keys onto the kitchen table. He pulled the ring box out of his pocket, holding it between two fingers as if it would burn him, and dropped it in a coffee jar, sealing the lid on tight. He sat down at the table and hung his head in his hands. The evening had gone the opposite of how he had envisioned it, and the worst part about it was that he hadn’t been able to control his mouth. He winced as he thought about the things he had said to her. Just remembering them ripped into him, his words knives in his head. He had promised himself he would never say anything to hurt her, and he had failed miserably. He knew what came next.
Sure enough, his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and groaned when he saw her name flashing on the screen.
“I can’t hear this now, Lu,” he said somberly, taking the phone and tossing it from where he sat in the kitchen onto the living room couch. He pressed his forehead into his knuckles and waited for the ringing to stop.
“Hey, Julien. What are you doing?” The hazy echo of Patrick’s voice was enough to bring Julien back from wherever his mind had been before he picked up the phone.
“Oh, hey, Pat. Uh, nothing. Reading some résumé responses to the Craigslist ad I put out in search of a new receptionist.” His hand tightened reflexively over his computer mouse.
“You’re hiring a dude this time, right?”
Julien let out a hollow chuckle. “Heh, that’s probably the best idea.”
There was a lull in their conversation, and Julien embraced the silence without trying to fill it.
“You okay, man?” Patrick asked.
“Mm-hmm.”
“No. Hold on a sec. I’m calling you on FaceTime.”
Julien groaned inwardly but accepted the call and ignored the urge to cringe as Patrick’s concerned expression came into view on the phone screen. His brown eyes appraised Julien’s appearance.
“Julien, you look like you haven’t shaved for three days,” Patrick said at last.
“So what?” Julien replied. “Beards are in style, didn’t you know?”
Patrick harrumphed under his breath. “So . . . you put an ad out for a sous chef too, right?”
At this Julien glared at him. “Excuse me?”
Patrick sighed, adjusting his collar as a way to avoid the camera. “Look, man, I hate to be the one to tell you. You’re a pretty sensible guy . . . usually. But Lumi told you she wasn’t coming back to DAX, you’re not even together anymore, and here you are, still waiting for her.”
Julien listened, still as a statue.
“I mean, it’s sad, I get it. We all want these things to work out, but we need to be honest with ourselves. Most of the time, they don’t,” Patrick said.
“Patrick?” Julien asked.
“Yes?”
“I really don’t want to talk about it.”
Patrick sighed. “Right. I’ll leave you to it, then. If you want to do brunch this Saturday . . .”
Julien frowned, his nose wrinkling with the movement. “I’ll let you know,” he said in a hollow tone.
“Right. Talk to you soon, then,” Patrick said. He closed out the video call, leaving Julien with more alone time than he already had.
43
Lumi
Lumi rang the bell and waited, smoothing the petals on the spring flower wreath that hung on the front door. After a moment, she heard Jenny unlatching the locks on the other side. “Hey, lady,” Jenny said cheerfully as she opened the door, ushering her friend inside.
“Thanks, Jenn,” Lumi replied.
“Come, have a seat,” said Jenny, gesturing toward the rectangular dining table. Lumi sat and Jenny went to make some coffee.
There was a bowl of lemon meringues on the table, and Lumi plucked one out and examined it in the light. “Jenn, I’m taking one of these,” she said, popping it into her mouth.
“Sure, lady,” Jenny’s voice drifted out from the kitchen.
Lumi pressed the sugar puff with her tongue and, finding it lacking, snatched a napkin and spit it out. She walked into the kitchen and tossed the napkin into the trash bin. Her eyes darted over to the cupboards and counters, landing on a box of chocolate cupcakes. She seized it.
“Can I try this? Do you mind?” she asked Jenny.
“Um . . . sure, hon,” Jenny answered, watching as Lumi picked out a cupcake, bit into it, and then chucked it in the trash.
Lumi felt Jenny staring at her but couldn’t stop.
“Lumi . . . what is it you’re looking for?” Jenny said evenly.
Lumi froze, except for her fingers, which she hastily streaked across a napkin to remove a glob of chocolate frosting.
“Whatever it is . . . you’re not going to find it in food,” Jenny said softly.
“That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve got to go,” she said, stumbling toward the door. “Talk to you soon, Jenn.”
“But wait,” Jenny gasped. “We didn’t even have coffee!”
“I’m sorry,” Lumi croaked. “I have to go.”
“Lumi, why don’t you just try calling him again? It’s been a week.”
The echo of Jenny’s voice followed her, already halfway down the hallway. She shook her head, and with sad eyes she blew Jenny a kiss before she bounded down the stairs of the co-op.
44
Julien
At the end of a long night in the kitchen, the last thing Julien wanted to do was go home. Three weeks had passed since he had last spoken to Lumi, and still he couldn’t bring himself to return her call. He saw her in his bed, on his couch, in his kitchen. The desire to touch her, to hold her, brought him pain that did not fade.
He turned off all the lights and sat in the metal chair. Their metal chair. Strange as it was—and he was fully aware that it was strange—he preferred to sit in the kitchen in the dark after closing time some nights.
The quiet spell between them had been unlike any other breakup or fight he’d ever had. He hadn’t felt any desire to drown out the glaring echo of her absence with anything. No drinking, no nights out. He knew none of it would work, anyway.
Funny that for so long, he hadn’t wanted to commit to any woman he met. And now that he finally met the one he pined for, she didn’t want to commit to him. He wasn’t laughing.
He looked out at the lights of the city, remembering a very different night when she had lain in his arms right there in that kitchen. She didn’t know that he had awoken to find her dreaming, her breath rasping softly in her throat. She had made him into an entirely different person; if before that night someone had told him they saw someone’s spirit shine through, he would have told them to lay off the acid. But that night with her sleeping safe in his arms, there was something beyond her body gently entwined with his in a way that could not be unwoven.