Blue Roses(13)

Luca’s fork and knife squeak on his plate. I look over at his plate. The white dish is nearly bare. His omelet and hash browns are gone.

I watch as he inhales a triangle-shaped piece of toast in two bites. The man eats food like he’s angry at it.

He sees me watching, and slows down, in a self-conscious way.

I eat my waffle and watch with amusement as he carefully spreads marmalade on the remaining slices of toast.

I can’t take my eyes off his hands. His finger doesn’t fit through the tiny handle on the coffee cup, so he holds the cup in one hand. The small white cup disappears in his palm.

I’d like to disappear in those hands.

“How long have you been at the flower shop?” he asks.

“My mother bought it when I was five. I’ve never worked anywhere else.”

“College?”

“I’ve started a few different courses. Nothing finished.”

“Starting things is easy. Finishing is tough.”

“How about you? College?”

He winces. “This and that. I did an apprenticeship in Australia for a year.”

“You’re the exact opposite of me. I’ve never left the country. My life must seem claustrophobic to you.”

He studies me quietly for a moment.

I chew and swallow a bite of my food. I’m full now, so I set down my utensils and push the plate away.

“What’s Australia like?” I ask.

“I’ll buy you a book.” He grins. “How are you liking this date?”

“I think it’s going well.”

“If I ask you to go to the paint store with me and pick out paint colors, will that count as date number two?”

“No, it would just be a continuation of this date, number one.”

He looks up and nods for the waitress to bring us the bill.

“In that case, I’d better be on my way. Since you’re busy Friday, how about we get together Saturday? Let’s do something crazy, like go to a movie.”

“A movie? That’s not crazy, Luca.”

“You’ll see.” He hands me his phone. “Punch your address in there and I’ll pick you up at eight.”

I start typing in my address. He’s filed me in his contacts as Tina Great Legs Nice Smile Kinda Bossy.

I glance up and see that he’s grinning. He meant for me to see that.





Chapter 9





My best friend, Rory, pulls a hot cookie sheet full of cheese-covered nacho chips from my oven.

She’s got a hair net over her dark, curly hair. Most people would find the hair net odd, but Rory works in catering, and seeing hair in food makes her scream.

“Your oven is ridiculous,” she says.

The chips have all slid to one side, because the oven is a tiny European model. A regular stove wouldn’t fit in the kitchen. With this stove, the baking trays I own will only fit when propped up at a ten degree angle.

“You’re ridiculous,” I answer, because that’s one of our little games. She’ll make a comment about something, and I’ll turn it around to be about her.

It’s Saturday, and she’s hanging out with me until Luca comes over at eight.

She tucks the hair net away in her pocket and shakes out her curly dark hair. The white streak peeks through. Her hair is a few shades darker than mine, and she’s got one streak of white that occasionally reveals itself. She used to color the streak dark, just so people wouldn’t ask if she had paint in her hair, but she’s stopped worrying about that lately.

She keeps looking over at the clock on my fireplace mantle, amidst my photos. Her checking the time is making me nervous. She might stick around so she can meet Luca, but it’s more likely she’ll freak out and run off before he arrives.

“I changed my mind,” she says. “You can’t go on any dates. I won’t be able to relax until you tell me you’re back home, safe and sound.”

“Don’t worry, Rory. I’m not going to let him touch my undergarments.”

She bristles visibly at the mention of undergarments. I haven’t said any of her dreaded words, such as panties or bra, but the idea alone is enough to bother her.

We take our seats at the round table overlooking the back yard and start eating our nachos.

After a moment, she says, “Promise me you won’t move to Australia with him.”

We both look over at the big coffee table book Luca dropped off for me at the flower shop on Friday. It’s a collection of photos showing the diversity of Australia.

“He just bought a garage on Baker Street,” I assure her. “He’s not going anywhere. And neither am I.”

“There’s something wrong with him. I have a bad feeling.”

“Well, I have a good feeling.”