Page 53 of Henhouse
“That feeling like the flavor of my name is missing something—toppings or dressings, a zest or a salt or a spice—probably means I’m not seeing myself fully.”
“I’d agree to that,” Theo suggested.
“You thought my name sounded like eggplant. Who likeseggplants?”
“I do!”
“Yeah, breaded with cheese and marinara. Toppings. Even you agree I’m a bland base note.” She tried to wriggle free of his grasp, but he held tight.
His lips found the soft waves of her hair again as he mumbled, “You’re not. Maybe you’re just not a finished recipe yet. You haven’t found the special sauce . . . ormaybe, being abland base notemeans you get to move through life trying on new identities and always ending up with something mouth-watering.”
Theo felt her muscles relax as she sank back into his shoulder. “That’s better than my perception.”
“And what’s your perception?”
“That I’m not interesting enough for a more delicious name.”
“That couldn’t be further from the truth.” He hoped the sincerity translated in the huskiness of his voice.
“You don’t know me well enough to know that.” A rebuttal rushed to his lips, but he clamped it down.No use arguing if that’s what she believed.
The crickets sang to them from the green space of the apartment building, a steady calm as Theo curled his fingers into the flesh of Effie’s hip and tried to redirect the ship of their conversation. “Tell me something I don’t know about you,” Theo asked, his desire to uncover all her facets as present as ever.
She was quiet for a long moment before saying, “Sometimes I’m afraid I will die young . . . like my dad . . . I also think pistachio ice cream has to be the most disgusting flavor ever invented.”
While both things seemed true, Theo wondered why she felt theneed to counter the heavy with the light. Why she didn’t let herself live in that first moment. But maybe that was how she kept her balance.
“Your turn,” she whispered.
“I worry I won’t like myself when I’m older, that I’ll always miss being twenty-seven.” It was a symptom of enjoying the way Effie looked at him, with admiration and desire. He wondered how long it would last if his jaw gave way to jowls and his hair thinned. Not that he was manifesting any ofthat.
“I don’t think that will happen. You’re far too self-aware to not keep embracing who you are.” Theo snuggled her a little harder. “Something you hate that everyone thinks you should love?” she asked.
“Fireworks. They’re loud. They’re barely impressive, and they smell terrible. Something you love that you’re supposed to hate?”
“Doing my taxes.” Theo pulled away and gave her a quizzical look. “It’s like a puzzle! Okay, mine are pretty straightforward, but Hope’s? I love finding her deductions.”
“That’s got to be the only left-brained thing about you.”
“Probably.”
He looked to Effie, every possibility of their future dancing over her impossibly beautiful face. Theo didn’t want her believing that eggplant or farro or her personhood lacked flavor and meaning, so he said, “Did I ever tell you about the eggplant?”
“No?” Effie sat a little straighter, crossing her legs in front of her to face Theo. “I assume there’s some cosmic message there?”
“You assume correctly.”
“Ah, my handsome spiritualist.” She said it with such affection, and a hint of self-consciousness like she was taste-testingmy,as she cupped his cheek then ran her fingers through his hair without a beatof hesitation. He leaned into the touch and almost forgot what he’d wanted to tell her.
“The day I asked you out, I pulled an eggplant card. Fate was telling me to find you.”
“Naturally,” Effie teased, but he knew she believed in fate as much as he did. He didn’t call her on it.
“I looked into it and in European folklore, it is associated with love and romance. They believed placing an eggplant under the pillow of an unmarried woman would make her dream of her future husband.” Theo suddenly felt self-conscious about sharing this. Insinuating that he saw himself as fit for that role in her life. If she thought it presumptuous, she didn’t let on. She gave Theo one of her wistful smiles and reclaimed her spot against his shoulder.
“I better not find an eggplant under my pillow.”
“Never. Wouldn’t want to run the risk of you dreaming of anyone but me.”
