that I found at a flea market in Hong Kong. And a weird little mermaid figurine from Copenhagen.
The doorbell rings, and I realize I’ve lost track of time. It’s five o’clock already. And I am more than ready to see if Daphne is still pissed at me. I hope not. I’m ready to drag her off to eat two-for-one wings and sing in front of her coworkers.
I trot through the house and pull open the front door. “Hi, gorgeous. Miss me?”
“Looking for compliments, McFly?” She crosses her arms over her chest.
“Still pissed about the karaoke, huh?”
“Only because you didn’t ask me first.” She cocks her head to the side. “I should go out with those guys. They’re good people.”
“I’m glad,” I say, waving her into the foyer. “You deserve good people around you. Like me.”
She sniffs. “Give me the tour, McFly. Then we can eat some chicken wings and I can listen to you sing.”
I take her hand. “I was thinking we could do a duet.”
“Nope. You’re the only one who’s going to sing.”
“Huh.” I guess I can press this issue later. “This is my living room.” I wave a hand into that room. “It needs new furniture, but I like to throw parties, so I’m afraid to upgrade. We really only sit in there on the weekends, when we’re trying to get over our hangovers.”
“My weekends don’t usually include a hangover,” Daphne shares.
“Well, that’s your loss, then, because I make an excellent hangover tea, and I’m pretty good at soups, too. Come and see my kitchen.”
I lead her toward my favorite room in the house, with its sturdy wood floors and its old-fashioned windows. The appliances are old, but in a fun way. There’s a curvy green refrigerator and a matching range. There are orange Formica countertops in a spacious L shape, and a roomy nook for the mid-century diner-style table and the chairs I’d picked out.
"Oh. This is so cute," Daphne says.
"Isn't it?" I agree. "It's my favorite room for studying or cooking or just wasting time with your brother.” I park my hip against the counter and study Daphne, who is trying so hard not to like my kitchen, or picture herself in it. I can see the fight raging behind her brown eyes.
My girl is so afraid to settle in to anything. She thinks that if she trusts me, I might betray her. And if she makes herself at home in this kitchen, she's afraid she might not want to leave again. “Take a breath, baby girl. You don't have to plan your whole life today.”
Her eyes narrow with irritation. "I wasn't trying to plan my whole life. Just the next year."
“Yeah, my bad. Come on. I'll show you the best stop on the tour."
“The empty room?”
“Nope. Even better. My room.”
“I should have known.” She gives me a quick smile, and when I hold out my hand, she takes it.
As I thread our fingers together and lead her toward the back of the house. I congratulate myself for having made the bed. Well done, subconscious. This is the most privacy she and I have had together in a while. Possibly ever.
"Nice,” she whispers when I lead her into my sunny bedroom overlooking the backyard.
"I got a lot done today." That’s why it’s so tranquil in here already. The books are back on the shelves. The empty boxes are already gone. The only thing left is the remaining knickknacks I've half unpacked.
That box is on the bed, so I pick it up and empty the last few things onto the top of my dresser, to sort later.
“What's this?” Daphne picks up a large coin and turns it over on her palm.
“That's from Thailand.”
“God, I want to travel,” she says with a sigh. “So badly. But there hasn’t been time. Or money.”
“I took a gap year. Worked a bunch of jobs. Took some trips.” It was amazing, and I wish Daphne could do the same.
“What's this? And this?”
She touches each of my trinkets with gentle hands, while I explain every coin and object. “That’s just an ordinary espresso spoon from the flea market on Portobello Road in London. I try to find something small to bring back from a market in every county. Bonus points if it’s something useful. If I don’t find the right object, I keep a coin instead.”
“And this?” She taps a little wooden box. “Where's this from?”