Page 10 of Last Flame
“…Brown.”
“Genericbrown? Or a special brown with aring?”
“That’s a trap.”
“It’s alittletrap.” She’s delighted. She’s never been more delighted. “How tall is he?”
“I don’t—”
“Ballpark.”
“Six-two. Maybe six-three.” The numbers arrive instantly, with confidence, like a price I’ve checked. “I haven’tmeasuredhim.”
“You estimated to the inch.”
“That’s a range. An inch is a range.”
She holds the green dress up against me, eyeing the length, not even looking at my face anymore, just stacking the evidence one piece at a time and humming while she does it. “What does he drink?”
“Coffee.”
“Whatkindof coffee?”
“He gets a large, black, from the place on the corner, and on Sundays he gets the seasonal one, the one with the—”Stop.I can’t stop and now I’m too far in. “—the cinnamon thing, and he holds it weird, like he’s keeping it warm instead of drinking it, and—”
“And you’ve noticed hisSundayorder.”
“I go to the same coffee place! It’s a coincidence of geography!”
“Every Sunday.”
“I like coffee on Sundays! I’m allowed weekend coffee!”
“No,” Ashley says, beaming.
“You didn’t even let me finish—”
“The answer is still no. The answer is going to keep being no.” She tosses the green dress onto the bed. “He nods at people. Does he nod at you?”
“He nods at everyone. He nodded at Mrs. Kaiser in the hall last week and she’sseventy-four.It’s a nod. It’s a deeply meaningless gesture he distributes to the entire building like a—” I’m building a case. I can hear myself building it, and somewhere in the middle I started arguing the wrong side and now I can’t find the way back. “—like a man who nods. I should probably turn myself in.”
Ashley sits down on the edge of my bed. She’s stopped grinning, which is somehow the most alarming part of the evening.
“You know,” she says, “you don’t have to marry him.”
“I’m not—”
“I’m not done.” She holds up a hand, and she’s not teasing now, the bulldozer’s parked, it’s just her, looking at me the way she looks at me maybe twice a year. “I just don’t want you deciding no before anyone gets a chance. You do that. You decide it’s not for you before it’s even offered, so it never gets to be a thing that didn’t work out. It just gets to be a thing you were too smart for.” She picks at the comforter. “I’ve watched you do it for twenty years. I get to mention it once a decade.”
I don’t say anything.
The radiator ticks.
Gerald can’t even help because Gerald’s in the other room.
“Put on the dress, Elara,” Ashley says, gentler, letting me off the hook. “It’s green. It’s going to be annoying how good you look.”
I put it on. She’s not wrong.
