Erase. Way too much enthusiasm.
After a third attempt that included way too many emojis, I slam my phone on the counter and not so gently flop my forehead to the table top with a sigh.
It’s just a text to ask her for coffee and talk things out. This is the easy part.
I straighten in my seat, rub my forehead, and try again, hitting send this time.
Hey Celeste, Delaney invited me to her birthday today. She said you’re okay with me joining. I’m glad. Also, I was wondering if you’d be willing to meet up for a coffee sometime? It doesn’t have to be right now. I just want the chance to apologize in person.
Almost immediately the three little dots appear. Then disappear. Then appear again. A text bloops through soon after.
Hoot
Hi Dom. Yeah, I’m good with it. Lane takes her bday pretty seriously so I’m not gonna poke that bear, haha. Yeah, sure, that sounds good. I can’t this week, but maybe a couple days post-party? Would Wednesday work for you?
Yeah, Wednesday works fine for me. I work later that day but can meet up for brunch if you’d like. Biblio & Brew?
See you then.
I blow out the breath I’d been holding, thankful that she’s willing to give me a chance. Of course she would, she has the kindest heart I’ve ever known. I don my work apron with a new vigor, anticipation and excitement at seeing Celeste carrying me through the rest of my shift.
* * *
I knock on Delaney’s apartment door Monday evening, gift box in hand. She sent me her birthday present gift list, and it was exactly what I thought it would be. Since getting her a taxidermied animal, alivepuppy, or a sword were outside of my gifting realm—or sanity—I opted to text Ellora and ask her what a reasonable gift would be.
The door swings open and Delaney stands there, arms raised as she shrieks at me to “Come inside, you little meshuggeneh”,then pirouettes away, a flowing magenta feathered robe a rich widow would wear in the nineteen thirties twirling behind her. Ellora pops into view, and I’m thankful for a familiar face amongst the sea of unknown people.
“Hello, Dominic,” Ellora says, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, finger nails gripping into her small biceps.
“Ah, just as uncomfortable in large groups as I am, I see,” I say, closing the door behind me and placing the gift box atop the pile stacked on a small coffee bar to my left.
“If I didn’t love Dellie…” Lor sighs heavily, eyeing a particularly theatrical fellow in Delaney’s kitchenette trying to catch olives in his mouth.
Love.Ellora just said she loves Delaney. I keep my face neutral, knowing how big of a deal this must be for Ellora, let alone voicing it to me. A wave of emotion floods me and as much as I want to pull her in for a hug and tell her how proud I am of her for putting her heart out there, I don’t want to scare her. She’s already clearly uncomfortable and now is not the time.
“So Delaney’s place is…wow,” I say, looking around her apartment.
Between the two dozen people filling the small space, I take note of the obscure art, irregular shaped furniture, and a different bright pastel colour thrown on each wall. I almost feel dizzy as my eyes bounce from oddity to oddity. A faux deer head on one wall, a life flotation device on another, pink walls, blue walls, hell, even the ceiling is painted like a sunny blue sky. Fluffy white spray painted clouds and all.
“Yeah,” Ellora releases a sharp exhale through her teeth, grabbing my arm. “You get used to it. Or take an Advil for the inevitable headache. Come on.” She drags me through the throng of people to a small open space at the back of the apartment, there sits a little alcove turned into a reading nook, left unoccupied. She throws herself down on the cushions of anelongated chaise, leaving me space to perch on the end. I have a full view of the party before me which seems to be mostly theatre students. I spot a small group actually holding up whatI hopeis a fake skull while spewing off Shakespearean monologues.
I turn to Ellora, who looks pained. “Shakespeare, eh? Not my thing. Too moody for me.”
“Actually, the skull represents the inevitable death and decay of the human body,” Ellora says far too casually. My mouth falls open as my head tilts to the side to look at her.
She shrugs. “Delaney talks a lot. I listen.” She lifts a drink from a small built-in shelf behind her, her usual Coke and lime accented with a neon curly straw. She takes a long sip then tips her head towards the kitchen. “There’s more drinks in the kitchen. No alcohol though, Delaney said none in the house now that I live here.” Lor turns back to chew on her straw but a small smile plays across her mouth.
Before I move to get myself a drink I turn to my sister. “I’m glad you have Delaney, Lor. You two are good for each other.” Ellora smiles. It’s small but it means a lot. She nods once and I turn, heading towards the fridge.
I open the door and peruse the rows of pop cans lined neatly on shelves. Picking an arbitrary flavour of soda, I turn to skim the crowd. Another Delaney-level shriek pierces the din of conversation, drawing my eyes to the front door where she stands. Delaney has her arms wrapped around a curvy frame with golden curled hair. She pulls back and Celeste’s face hits me like a Mack Truck. I know I’d seen her at the house a few times, but this feels different. This is social, purposefully seeing people youwantto see rather than awkwardly bumbling into them in happenstance. Or worse, you almost get a concussion at seeing the love of your life in her skimpy sleep outfit while trying to fix her leaky toilet. Top five most painful and erotic moments of my life.
Celeste glances up from Delaney’s animated welcome and locks eyes with me from across the room as if she already knew where I was. With my heart stuck in my throat, I give her a small wave and tight-lipped smile, shoving the memory of her barely-there tank top from my mind.
God, this is awkward. What do I do with my hands? Do I go over and say hi? Let her come to me?
My internal debate is broken when one of the Shakespeare re-enactors bumps into me, spilling my open pop can down the front of my sweater.
“Shit.” I try to mop up the spill but I’m drenched. I have nothing to change into and I doubt Delaney would have anything remotely appropriate for me to wear in her closet.
