Page 51 of Hero Hair
“This is more?” Carina supplies for me.
Coughing, I try to hide my emotion. “When you say it like that it makes it sound like I’m goo-goo eyed in love with him and I’m not sure that’s the case. It’s the chemistry between us.”
She nods. “I saw it.” She sees everything. Then she turns around and writes about it. I wish I had that skill. I’d be less messed up, I bet.
Charlotte has fifteen bottles of perfume sitting on a mirrored tray by her vanity. I pick one up absentmindedly and spritz the air.
“I’m worried he’s going to bail after sex,” I admit. Waving my hand in the air, I try to disperse the flowery scent. “That’s what always happens and I don’t think this is any different. I’m not sure if it’s going to be different and I’m preparing myself mentally for a few different outcomes.”
“That’s just because it’s all you know, Tay. It’s different and you know it. It scares you. Have you talked to him about this?”
I laugh out loud—a sardonic cackle. “Macs doesn’t do emotions. If I had this conversation with him, he’d head for the hills so fast, my head would be left spinning.”
“You should probably try. I bet he’d be receptive. He’s only dating you, correct? No other women?”
I wince. “I think it’s just me.” How can I be sure? I feel like he’s always on his cell phone. I explain how wrapped up in the app dating culture he was before me and now she’s the one wincing.
“Then he may be feeling the same way if he’s given that lifestyle up. Big changes are hard and scary. Even for men who aren’t afraid of anything.”
I pick up another bottle of perfume and sniff the top.
“Don’t spray that one. It already smells like a French whore on a Saturday night in here,” Carina snaps.
It doesn’t. Not really. Charlotte is into things like perfume and makeup. I have a couple bottles to my name, but nothing like what she has. Exquisite bottles in deep hues and clear bottles that look like diamonds. Maybe I’ll buy another bottle the next time I’m at the mall.
I set the bottle back down. “You never answered me.”
She sighs. “What is love?”
I widen my eyes.Duh.
“It’s different for everyone,” she says, turning her eyes away from me. “It never feels the same twice.”
Bullshit. Absolute bullshit. There has to be some singular quality that resides in love for each and every person. “I don’t believe that.” Though I’ve never experienced it.
Carina silences me with a look. “I thought I was in love, but when I met Smith, I realized the error of my ways. Sometimes love placates. Sometimes it washes over you like small waves coming and going. Sometimes it’s so deep you drown in it.”
I nod. I understand that. “Drowning. Death. Sounds about right.”
She laughs. “You’ll know. I think you already know.”
“I don’t know him well enough to say that for sure.”
“You miss him?” Carina asks. “You get excited to see him? You rearrange your life to fit him in it?” Even now, I’m jonesing to text him back. I miss him when we’re not together.
In favor of answering her questions, I tell her I’ll talk to him. She likes that answer better anyways. I can tell she doesn’t like being peppered with questions about love when she’s contemplating her own feelings in a new relationship. Does Smith love her? I wonder.
“How do you know if he loves you?” I ask quickly.
The bathroom door is open now. “He gave up an entire life for me.” Sadness replaces her former smile and my stomach turns. What must it feel like to live with that guilt?
“He got the better end of the deal,” I reassure her.
Her smile in response doesn’t meet her eyes. After she leaves, I snap a photo of a perfume bottle and send it to Smith. Love and perfume, I think. He’ll never get that one.
I walk back out to my friend’s gray living room and announce my departure.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Jasmine whoops.
