Page 16 of In the Long Run
She puffs out a laugh, the noise warming me more than the hot beverage I’m drinking.‘Maybe.’
I shake my head and lean back in the chair, stretching my legs out and crossing my ankles.Gen pushes the box back towards me and I pick up a miniature quiche Lorraine that Celeste added to my order.It’s exactly how I remember: smoky bacon and sweet yet nutty Gruyère cheese.I’m mid-bite when Gen moans softly, her eyes fluttering closed as her tongue darts out between her lips, chasing the smudge of buttercream in the corner of her mouth.
‘You’re missing out, Knox,’ she says, eyes still closed.
On so much,I want to tell her.But these are the consequences of the choices I made.
‘Sure you don’t want a bite?’
The quiche turns to dust in my mouth.I bet she tastes like coffee and sugar.Sweets have never appealed before but right now,I’d eat a bag of sugar if I could pretend it’s Gen.‘You’ve got a little bit of …’
Her thumb swipes at her lips but misses the errant buttercream.‘Did I get it?’
‘No, it’s, ah, here.’I reach for her.Christ, her skin is soft.Her eyes flare when I gently smooth my thumb against her mouth.
She jumps up and I jerk back.
‘You know what, I should get out of your hair.But if there’s anything I can do to help Eugene’—she waves towards the glass doors that separate the courtyard from the flat—‘let me know.I can easily squeeze it in around my bookkeeping.And I’m always at home.’She scoops her keys off the table.
I’m momentarily distracted by the glittery ‘G’ key chain because she doesn’t strike me as a glitter girl, but then her words filter through.
Bookkeeper.
Could Gen help me sort out the financial mess Alizée’s has found itself in?
‘Remember’—Gen’s stern tone is derailed by the faint smear of chocolate still lingering on her lip—‘it’s okay to accept help.’
The problem is that I’m not the one who’s going to need convincing.
Choosing a superpower is something I thought about a lot as a kid.The answer was always the same.Invisibility didn’t interest me; I’d managed that on my own.Really, my parents had gifted it to me by being so wrapped up in their own lives that they never bothered to pay attention to mine.Until everything fell apart, of course.Then invisibility would’ve been very welcome.No, if I’d stumbled across a genie in a lamp, I wouldn’t have needed three wishes.Because how good would it be if you could read minds?
Case in point: right now.Eugene’s flicking listlessly through one of his favourite recipe books.If I could read his mind, I’d know how to help him without asking the questions that will upset both of us, because even if Eugene is trying to convince himself that it’s time to let go of Alizée’s, I’m not.It’s not just Eugene’s home away from home.It was mine too for many years.A huge part of the safe haven he created for me when I was so lost and angry.
‘I can hear you thinking over there,’ Eug says.
Time to rip off the band-aid.‘Just thinking about Alizée’s.’
His book closes with a soft thump.‘Why?’
‘You still thinking about closing?Maybe selling?’
‘Possibly.’
‘Because of the letters on the bench?’
‘Guess I should’ve been expecting that.’Eugene removes his glasses and tucks them over the neck of his faded navy cable knit jumper.Even though he was born in Australia and grew up here, he’s always looked like he belongs in a tiny French seaside village.He rubs his eyes before picking up a cushion and plucking at its tassels.‘I wasn’t trying to hide it from you.’
I raise my eyebrows, trying to recreate the expression he used to give teenage-me when he knew I was full of shit, which was most of the time.
He smiles at my attempt before his expression flattens, lips pinching, eyes sad.
‘We’re supposed to tell each other things, Eug.What’s really going on?’
He tosses the cushion aside and immediately picks up the dark green blanket I put on the couch before he woke up.The tartan one Gen used this morning is folded neatly at the bottom of my bed and I don’t know why.That’s a lie; I don’t want to admit why.Not even to myself.
‘Do you remember the fire we had three years ago?’he asks.
‘No.’
