Page 15 of Henhouse
Talia sized Effie up with a tilt of her head. “Do you think she sits at home knitting on Friday nights?” Theo shrugged. “I think she probably has a cat or something. Just like a quiet little virgin with her crafts and creatures.”
Theo couldn’t argue that the description might be accurate as Effie tucked her feathered waves over one shoulder, her back to them. She worked the hairdryer over the puff paint; her weight shifted to the side, so one hip popped. His eyes found the little flowers that peeked out from the back pockets of the jeans that fit just right. He urged his gaze away. “Does it matter?” Theo asked, never one to like making guesses about people.
“No, it’s just a fun game,” Talia chirped. “But I do think you’d scare the shit out of her.” She chuckled and brought her wineglass to her lips. Her eyes flicked to his crotch and back to meet his gaze. Her grin was wicked.
“You better behave yourself, or I won’t invite you to craft night again,” he warned.
“Heavens, no.” Theo knew she’d only agreed to come in case things turned more intimate, as they were apt to do when they went out. He couldn’t deny a similar train of thought had sparked the invitation.
He looked back at Effie, though, and hated himself for wondering if Talia was right. If he would intimidate her or if he could make amends for his crappy first impression. The tangible prospects before him came into crystal clear focus as Talia whispered in his ear all the ways she wanted to have him later that night.
Effie was grateful for the reprieve of drying the puff paint. She needed the five minutes to compose herself. Theodore was here with a woman who dripped sex appeal and experience and, well, everything that Effie wasn’t. To top it off, Theodore persisted in being arrogant and annoying. He mentioned he’d be by in the morning for theirfollow-up, reminding her that passing inspection still loomed when she just wanted to make it through the class. Effie tensed remembering the sheer disappointment thatshedared be the instructor of this class. She tried not to give it another thought.
Effie returned everyone’s glass and demonstrated how to mix the paints and glue to create a transparent color, filling in the sections between the faux leading. Usually, she tried to use people’s names when giving tips or little compliments, but it wasn’t wise when it came to Theodore.
She’d said his name once already, and she managed to control her face, which was a feat that deserved some kind of a medal. Avoiding it for the rest of the night seemed like the right move, but she worried that he’d notice and take offense, calling back thereally rudeface she had made the first time they met. Maybe it wouldn’t even come up—
“So, what does my name taste like?” Theodore asked as he brushed a mix of red paint and Elmer’s Glue over the first square of his cardinal. He really was infuriating. Especially as he dared her with a look. Effie only replied so they might break their intense eye contact that had steam rising from her tiptoes to the crown of her head.
“Do you truly want to know?” Effie asked, using her project before her as an excuse to avert her gaze.
“Taste like?” Talia interjected, utterly confused. “What a weird question.”
“I have lexical gustatory synesthesia, so I can taste words.” She said this all while staring intently at her glass, but she felt the attention of the whole group turn on her.
“I’m dying to know,” Theodore confessed.
“Fine. Theodore tastes like soggy cardboard.”He didn’t seem to like the answer but took it in stride. The relief she felt at admitting it startled her.
After that, everyone wanted to know what their names tasted like, so they played a little game while they painted. Effie explained that Talia tasted like seafood alfredo—something about it sounding Italian and like tilapia and rich flavor all at once. Mr. Robecheck, Arnold, had a name that tasted like asparagus. Mrs. Robecheck, Sarah, tasted like SweeTarts. Heidi adored that her name tasted like hot caramel sauce, while Colin thought that a name tasting of whipped cream was perfectly acceptable.
“So just my name then that displeases your taste buds?” Theodore asked, humor in his voice.
“It would appear so,” Effie replied, apologetic. “Make sure you’re adding glue to every color, Mr. Robecheck. You want it to stick to the glass.” The gentleman nodded and added a dab to the blue he used.
“And what’s your name taste like?” Theodore wondered. Effie wasn’t sure anyone had ever asked her that.
“It’s kind of hard to explain,” Effie said, not interested in continuing down this line of questioning. But he waited. Effie swallowed hard, her mouth having gone a bit dry. No explanation came to save her. The silence around her felt probing, and she wished that Theodore didn’t bring it up. She was back in grade school, misspellingcaricaturein front of the whole class. Her skin dampened, the room boiling over with her awkwardness. She just wanted to get back to teaching.
“I decided your name tastes like eggplant,” Theodore said as he lifted his brush with a flourish. He gave her a subtle wink, and her shoulders relaxed. Disagreeable, perhaps, but not unobservant. Kind even, to have saved her from her social anxieties, even if he hadtriggered them.
“A flavor will frequently be related to how a name is spelled or sounds. So I guess I’ll accept eggplant.” She smiled faintly and settled in to work on her own stained glass. Everyone went back to their dates, allowing Effie to ponder her real answer.
Her relationship with her synesthesia was something she’d worked on in therapy for years. It took her a long time to realize that there was an emotional component to the way words tasted. Another heat wave of embarrassment tingled her spine as her name played on repeat in her mind, washing her tongue in that not-so-satisfying flavor. She shoved the regret back in its cage to examine—for the millionth time—another day and returned to her project.
Theodore finished his painting and held it proudly. “Excellent faux stained glass, Theodore,” Effie said, and her nose scrunched again. It was alarming how horrible it tasted, given whatever flutter she felt when she looked at him.
“Fascinating.” Theodore laughed. “It’s that realistic?”
“Like licking an Amazon box that’s sat out in the rain and molded,” Effie joked. Theodore laughed again and she couldn’t help enjoying it.
“Well then, maybe you should just call me Theo. Everyone else does.”
Effie tensed. “I’ll call you cardboard.”
“I imagine cardboard tastes like cardboard. That can’t be pleasant.”
“Better than soggy cardboard,” Effie rebuffed. She honestly couldn’t tell if they were truly bickering or if he enjoyed the banter.
