Page 3 of No One's Like You
The man leaves and Ruby pauses for a second in front of the bar, smiling with satisfaction. She never tires of looking at the facade. She loves the aged brick with moss-green painted wooden details that have barely withstoodthe neighborhood's humid years. It has hanging shutters framing two wide windows that look into the interior. One of them has the name of the bar hand-painted: "The Early Bayou," in curved letters somewhat faded by the sun. It was Ellie's idea and, although she wasn't very convinced, Ruby gave in and ended up delighted with the result.
A cream and burgundy striped awning extends over the entrance. Underneath are four wrought iron tables resting on the sidewalk with the chairs still stacked. It's something that catches the attention of early passersby because the mix of sun and breeze makes it a magnificent place to have coffee, but what really fascinates Ruby about the whole bar is the back patio.
It's a small refuge hidden behind a wooden gate located at the back of the bar. Upon exiting, Ruby feels like she's entering another dimension. The floor consists of irregular bricks, worn and warm in the sun. In the center, more wrought iron tables rest under cream-colored umbrellas that have already known several summers. Some chairs have worn linen striped cushions, and one or two are always a bit wobbly, but nobody seems to mind. In one corner, a wooden shelf serves as a vertical garden: there are clay pots with rosemary, mint, basil, and lavender, and the air smells of all this mixed with the aroma of coffee and toast wafting from inside. A string of warm lights hangs between the walls, crossing the sky as if catching the last golden hour of the day, but the star element, for both her and Ellie, is the swing that they use on Wednesdays, the only day when the bar remains closed. Girls' Wednesday.That's what Ellie called it. A few hours a week that are just for them, without Marcel, without Amelia or any of the partners they've had, just Ellie and Ruby telling each other their things. They chose the back patio of the bar because no one bothers them there, and those hours, usually at sunset, have become a sacred ritual for both.
This has brought them the occasional argument with their partners. Marcel because he doesn't understand his wife's need to spend those hours with her friend when, according to him, she sees her every day. For Amelia the conflict is different; she claims the same as Marcel, but what she really feels is fear, because she knows that, although Ruby loves her and shows it every day, deep down and unable to help it, Ruby Hebert has always been in love with her best friend.
Ruby enters the bar, turns on the lights, and goes to the storage room to open the door and start bringing in the boxes that Gaston left on the street. She considers waiting until Ariel and Caleb arrive, the waitress and waiter who have the morning shift, but she can't risk having the merchandise stolen, so she rolls up her sleeves and starts bringing in the boxes, leaving them messily near the entrance—she'll ask them to arrange them when they arrive.
Chapter 2
"I just don't understand it, Ellie, we had plans," Marcel Dumont roars with his hands on his hips while shaking his head.
The married couple has been arguing for almost an hour; Ellie has remained calm the entire time, sitting on the sofa with a cushion in her lap while her husband paces like a caged lion around the living room of the house they share. Marcel is red as a tomato; when he's angry, his face colors making him look like a carrot. The thought forces Ellie to suppress a smile as she remembers Ruby's comment when Marcel spilled coffee on his expensive Egyptian cotton shirt and it looked like his red hair had spread to his face making him resemble a caricature.
"We talked about this a year ago and everything's still the same," Marcel continues with his complaining. "I don't even see you interested."
Ellie maintains the same position, though she's tired of the same story. Marcel insisted on becoming a father and told her more than a year ago. He didn't propose it,they didn't discuss it as a couple; he simply said it was time to expand the family, as if instead of bringing a child into the world, they were going to Mrs. Chen's store to buy a plant for the house. At that time, Ruby and she had just completed a small renovation of The Early Bayou and customers had received it very well; new coffee lovers arrived attracted by the colorful place and the workload increased. Ellie didn't have the headspace to think about her husband's plans, besides, being a mother? She wasn't sure, at least, not with Marcel; if anything, she prefers it with...
"Aren't you going to say anything?" Marcel interrupts her thoughts and stops in front of her. Now his ears also have a strange tone and his forehead starts to shine with sweat.
"I don't feel ready yet, Marcel, I've told you several times and that should be more than enough for you," Ellie runs a hand through her hair and discreetly checks the time on her watch. "This year I've had a lot of work, you know that, I've barely been able to rest."
Marcel raises his eyebrows so high they almost meet his hairline.
"I've been busy too, Ellie, but I always have time for you," Ellie doesn't like the direction the conversation is taking because she knows where it will end up. "What kind of marriage do we have if we can't be parents?"
Ellie huffs. She acknowledges that Marcel Dumont is—or was, she doesn't even know anymore—a charming man. The first thing that attracted her to him was hisbroad-shouldered build, straight back, and firm hands. His slightly wavy reddish hair—a family inheritance—and his strong jaw. He courted her like a gentleman and for a year and a half they lived an idyll. He got down on one knee one night after dinner at a restaurant in San Francisco and she happily accepted. Margaret, her mother, immediately got to work and the wedding was beautiful. A year later, Ellie was bored with her marriage; the spark had disappeared and she felt practically nothing toward Marcel. She didn't tell anyone, not even her best friend because Ellie didn't want the same thing to happen again. All her relationships end the same way, and she doesn't know if it's her fault or if no one truly fulfills her. With Marcel she wanted to try; she was an affectionate, attentive woman and attended all the birthdays or celebrations of each member of her husband's hateful family. She smiled for photos, went shopping with her sister-in-law, and even went to the spa with her mother-in-law despite preferring a punch in the eye before spending time with that devil fossil. She tried, she really did, but she failed.
"A modern marriage, Marcel," Ellie counters. "We don't need to have children to be complete."
Marcel opens his eyes as if he'd heard a sacrilege from his wife's mouth.
"I understand you," Ellie continues, "I know you want to be a father, but I think it's very selfish of you to have made that decision on your own. It's a very important step and when you told me I was clear, it wasn't in my plans, at least not at the moment. You completely ignored myopinion and all you thought about all day was getting me into bed."
"Seems like my plan hasn't yielded results because I haven't fucked you in months," the man spits.
Ellie Trahan almost suppresses a gag at the comment. Not because she doesn't like sex, but because of the unpleasant way Marcel said it, as if she were a hole with legs and he a caveman whose only goal is to impregnate her.
She sighs.
"We haven't had time," Ellie responds, exhausted from the argument.
Here it comes; Ellie senses it.
"You seem to have time for your little friend though," a grimace of disgust appears on Marcel's face.
Ellie puts the cushion aside and stands up. If her husband wants to continue talking, she won't allow it. She's been listening to his verbal diarrhea for months, his constant complaints; if it's not one thing, it's another. She doesn't mind hearing his complaints, but there are things she's not willing to tolerate. Never.
"Don't bring her up, damn it," she says and moves away from Marcel to walk to the kitchen. "Don't drag Ruby into our issues; I don't understand your insistence on always bringing her up."
"It's just that Ruby is always there, not..."
"And she always will be," Ellie cuts him off. "I don't know why you can't understand that once and for all. She's my best friend, my business partner, and the person whohas been by my side my entire life. She has never said a word about my relationships, has supported me in all of them, and you, Marcel, don't have the right to put her name on your lips."
Marcel stands still watching how his wife's chest rises and falls rapidly. He finds it incredible that she always maintains her calm and only loses it when someone complains about Ruby. He has never understood their relationship and detests that girl who looks at Ellie in a wrong way, not how you look at a friend, and Ellie seems to be blind, she always has been.
"Look, Marcel, we've had a good relationship, but our marriage no longer works," Ellie suddenly fires. "You want something I don't want and I'm not going to promise you that someday I will. Besides, we barely see each other. You complain that I spend too much time at the bar, but you never leave your office."
