Page 17 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls
“Maybe it’s just bugs?”
“Justbugs?” she screeched several octaves higher, fork wagging between her knuckles. “Unleashing a swarm is worse! You could be breeding mountain roaches bigger than the ones in the city, cannibalizing each other. I’d set it on fire, personally.”
Alarmist or not, Nadine’s angle convinced Celene. “Fine. I’ll outsource this task.”
“Gasoline. Matches.”
Celene swatted at a gnat zipping by, her ankles itching from the high grass scraping her shins. She wasnotbuilt for this. On her solo trips, where she’d do light hiking or join a yoga class in the middle of the elements, she’d idealize living that way full-time. A serene life outside the honking and sirens, but at what cost if it meant cannibal roaches and endless upkeep?
“Show me more of your land. How big is the backyard?” Nadine snapped the seal of a cold brew. She was one of those oral fixationists—never far from a beverage. “From what I see, your neighbors aren’t practically sitting on your lap.”
Something in the favorable column about Yielding. Celene marched further out, slowly panning her phone in a 180. “The grassy half of the backyard I’m standing on is serviceable, the rest...”
“Why did your dad buy this?” An appropriate reaction to the other half of the rectangular space, fraught with ground-set rocks, bursts of weeds, leaves, and crisscrossed surface roots. Surrounded by trees on all sides, it gave privacy away from most people, but not—“Oh look, I see baby deer!”
Sure enough, a doe and her two fawns lifted their heads. They moved deftly through the craggy space on spindly legs, trimming grass in a graze. Celene proceeded to the front yard, unwilling to bother their mealtime. “We have deer, rabbits, the occasional fox. Oh, god. And bears. If I dared to step around those rocks, I’d find bear poop.”
“Nasty. That was Fern Gully charming for a minute. I’m turned off again.”
The smoky drift from someone’s barbecue grill reached Celene; her stomach tightened with hunger. She switched the video to front-facing. “I got your pie, by the way. When I browsed outside the market, this woman giving off strong gay vibes stopped her van to chat.”
Nadine rubbed her hands together, caffeinated eyes round. “You’re already a ten in the city; over there, you’ll break the scale.”
Dismissing that with a scoff, she began kicking small branches off the grass. “She pitched her landscaping business, and it worked because I’m already sick of comparing companies, many of whose websites are crap. Whatever, she’s not the important one in the story. In the passenger seat was the same lady I texted you about.”
“The blueberry one who followed you?”
“Yes, her. She’d scanned her ID to get into the neighborhood, so she lives around here, too.” Celene bit her lip. Had to consider how to frame this, as Nadine’s eyebrow rose. “She gave me a welcome gift. A fuchsia. Are you familiar?”
“I know roses and I guess, lilies. Hydrangeas. Do dandelions count?” Nadine waved off the rest of her weak botanical knowledge with long fingers. “What do you do now? Are you obligated to invite her over? Do you owe her something?”
“No idea. It’s pretty, even pre-bloom.” She welcomed a distraction from Nadine’s wry expression as a middle-aged lady in a visor strolled on the road, walking a beagle. As customary there, everyone waved—a lot. Celene ignored her, lowering her gaze to the call. “Blueberry forager. I recognize her.”
“From where, your fantasies?”
That was the extent of their little quips about women. Celene was so thankful. “I can’t place it, but I know her.”
Nadine hummed thoughtfully. “May I ask how she looks?”
“A grown-out French bob, curly bangs,” she recalled like her friend asked of the weather forecast. “Dark brown eyes, full lips. Really soft, delicate features.”
“Maybeshe’sthe scale-breaker.” Nadine didn’t badger her further, though her fingertips brushed over her unmistakable grin. “I’m thinking about dating again, maybe.”
That wasdifferent. Celene allowed the same grace, trying not to sound too shocked. “Anyone in mind? I remember you saying the women at work are dry.”
“They’re still dry.” Nadine capped her unfinished coffee, eyes on her fake engagement ring. She went above and beyond to be unavailable. “I miss those cute moments. Like, when I come home from a day where everyone’s a headache and a girlfriend’s all, ‘Baby, what’s wrong? Let’s order Thai, and you can tell me about your day.’”
That did sound nice. Celene nodded for her to continue.
“Remember how fun it is to surprise a girlfriend. With...with chocolates. Do women still like receiving chocolate? It’s been that long.” Nadine shook the final sips of her juice in a slow circle. “Gah, or maybe I just miss sex.” She replaced the lid onher empty salad bowl, agreeing with herself. “A lick. One deep lick is all I need to—oh, hey, Mother.”
Celene stifled a laugh as Nadine’s mom-slash-boss showed up at the opportune moment of her daughter lamenting her sex life. She swore she got a peek of teenage Nadine in this sophisticated mid-thirties casing as she dropped her head to fight laughter, too.
“Your break ended ten minutes ago,” her mother said off-camera, sounding dreadfully perturbed.
Nadine waved goodbye with an eye roll, and the call ended. Celene massaged the back of her arm, taking in the balding yard with millions of sticks and a deck on the verge of collapse. She’d sit down and itemize a document of tasks and share it with her father.
Her stomach clenched spitefully, reminding her of the veggie pot pie and soup she bought for herself at the market. Responsibility called. But first, she’d eat.
