Isaac rolled his eyes. “Then why didn’t you just say carrot sticks?”
Tifah suddenly seemed to shrink. “Whatever. We were talking about parallel fifths and their relation to 20th century music…”
Elly tuned out, cranberry juice in hand. All around the party, people were engrossed in deep conversation. The lanky man who had assumed she was someone’s mom was strumming a sitar in the corner, while a young girl sat in rapt attention at his feet. The man in the tight black t-shirt was clapping some sort of rhythm with his hands, while the other man on the couch nodded in time. Out on the balcony, there were two guys harmonizing.
This is awful, thought Elly. The girls were all centered around Isaac. She watched in silence. He truly was a commanding presence. He was wearing a button down white shirt with tiny caramel swirls down the arms. Dark lean jeans sat on his narrow hips, and brown sandals showed his lightly tanned toes. He seemed to be a great listener, leaning into each conversation with interest, tossing his head back with laughter at lame jokes that should have garnered a weak smile at best. Isaac possessed allure. Every woman in the room was seeking out his attention, his addictive grin.
Elly could not explain the feeling that Isaac stirred within her. It was a rushing joy – it felt like a familiar comfort, a coming home, an old feeling with a new face. As Elly pondered the strange sensation spreading through her like syrup, Isaac turned and faced her while the three women talked incessantly at him. They shared a moment, not unlike the one she felt in the kitchen. A connection.
Isaac, noticing a lull in the conversation, announced, “Here’s something interesting – Elly grew up in a house with a butler!”
Before Elly was forced to reply, Tifah, who had been swaying and holding on to Isaac’s arm, turned and barfed onto Elly’s shoes.
Twenty minutes later, barefoot and less one puking bohemian, Elly sat on Isaac’s balcony, which overlooked Wydown, the same street that her shop faced. It was strange to see her little patio from this angle. She had a sudden alarmed thought that maybe Isaac had seen the end of her and Kim’s fight that afternoon. How embarrassing! And she had looked like crap! She pushed it out of her mind. The white lights sparkled in the trees, and she watched a young couple, who appeared to have had a little too much wine - not unlike Tifah, who was recovering in Isaac’s bedroom – stumble down the street. The girl laced her fingers through the man’s hair, pulling his face down to hers for a voracious kiss.
Elly looked away, suddenly feeling a voyeur to their passion. She couldn’t stop yawning. I should be in bed by now. What am I doing here? She thought about Cadbury, who was probably wondering where she could possibly be. She didn’t leave him alone at night often. She never went out, unless she went to Kim’s, and Cadbury always joined them there. He was probably leaving a special present for her on her carpet at this very moment.
The glass door slid open, and Isaac stepped out, shutting it tightly behind him. Elly’s heart quickened. They were alone!
“Is everything cleaned up?” she asked.
“Yeah. She’s sleeping in my room.” He paused, looking a little queasy. “I have never seen vomit that color.”
Elly laughed. She found talking with him to be calm and easy, like drinking sweet tea. He settled in the chair next to her, his face lit up periodically by turning headlights.
“Elly,” he started drumming on the end of the chair, “tell me something about you.”
Elly mentally checked off the things she wouldn’t tell him about. Georgia. Aaron. Deep-seeded weight insecurity. An addiction to trashy romantic reality shows.
“What would you like to know?”
“Well…” he traced his finger down the edge of her chair, inches from her skin. “How did you decide to open a flower shop?”
Ah, that I can talk about, Elly thought.
“After my mother died of ovarian cancer, I received her life insurance policy as well as the proceeds from her house sale. She had taken it out while I was very young and it had built up over time. It sat in the bank forever.”
She paused to take a large sip of wine. She could feel herself getting sleepier with every passing minute, with every passing drink.
“I couldn’t even think of touching it, not for a long time. It felt like I traded my mother for that money. I was still grieving, three years after the fact.” She felt a rising lump in her throat, and veered immediately in another direction. “When I arrived here in St. Louis, I couldn’t handle the thought of more office politics, or running stupid errands for my boss, like spending hours searching for a new sushi restaurant, or having to spend most of the day typing up documents.” She had purposefully glossed over her overly dramatic departure and was relieved that he hadn’t noticed.