CHAPTER TEN

The night was fresh and crisp. Tillie said, "Let's just take the train."

"Glad to."

The foot traffic was light. She peered shamelessly into the apartment windows facing the street, hearing snippets of conversation, televisions, clatters of dishes. She was deeply aware of Liam next to her, his loose-limbed walk, his curious air of calm. "How did you become a meditation leader?" she asked as they passed a yoga studio.

"The short version is that I found trouble young, and then ..." He looked at her. "I found the opposite at a Buddhist monastery."

Something about this simple, clear story pierced her. "I've never found calm anywhere," she said. "I always feel like I'm looking for something that's right out of the corner of my eye." She thought of the cat suddenly, all the wild painting, the time she lost. "Can I tell you something?"

"Yes," he says, turning his clear eyes toward her.

"When I painted those cats today?" Suddenly, she lost her nerve. "I just ... got kind of lost in them. Like, lost time, kind of."

"Like flow?"

She paused, crossing her arms. "No. Like, I—" She took a breath. "Never mind. It's too weird."

"You can tell me. I won't judge you."

"It was like a fugue state or something. I don't remember anything about the time I painted. Like I became someone else. Like ... a split personality? Is that even a thing?"

He nodded, waiting to see if she would add anything. "I'm sure it's still a thing, but do you think you might have a memory hole from childhood, something you don't remember?"

"Oh, I know I have one. The head injury when I was four." She pointed to the white streak at her temple.

"You fell?"

"I think so?" She took a breath. "It's complicated. My mother was not always in the here and now, if you know what I mean."

"I do." He brushed his hand over her cheek. "I'm sorry about that."

"I hate saying that, honestly. She was so good to me. It was always just us, you know? Arlette and Tillie against the world. She felt safe at the farm, and I think having those boundaries really helped her stay relatively okay."

"My dad died when I was seven," he said. His hair shone in the streetlight, his nose casting a shadow over a cheekbone. "My mother was on the floor. She took us all to England, and we spent the summer with her best friend, on a farm. I had a bunch of cousins, and there were all these rescue animals, like a goat with three legs and dogs who couldn't walk very well."

Tillie smiled up at him. "That sounds beautiful."

"It was. The thing is, it really did heal my mum. She was always a farmer, but after that was when she got down with the bees and honey and all that."

"Nature heals?"

"Maybe." They were standing face-to-face, close to the wall. From somewhere came the sound of a band, and Tillie smelled the cigarettes of people smoking outside a bar. A triangle of light fell across the part of his hair, touched his lower lip, and it was all she could see. "Maybe it's just the thing of having things that have to be done. Simple things. Repetitive things."

"Mm." A honeyed sense of longing spilled through her. "Maybe I do believe in fate."

"Maybe I do, too." He leaned in to kiss her. The wall braced them, and the kiss went deep. His body was a million degrees, burning her at all the connection points, the palm of his hand on her neck, his fingers in her hair, her arm reaching up to pull him closer, their chests, their thighs. As if they'd rehearsed, their bodies slid into perfect alignment.

He lifted his head. Looked at her.

She looked back.

At some signal they both felt, they tangled hands and kept walking, not speaking.

After they walked for a little while, he stopped. "Close your eyes."

It said something about her trust of him that she did exactly as he asked.

"Do you smell it?"

She took a breath and grinned, keeping her eyes closed. Vitamins, patchouli, dried ginger, yeast. "Health food store."

He squeezed her fingers. "Let's go in."

They skipped down the steps to the basement store. It was well lit, with well-organized shelves, and a tidy row of bulk bins, half–Whole Foods, half–seventies co-op. The scent wrapped Tillie in a cozy hug, and from Liam's cheerful expression as he looked around, it was the same for him. He lifted a bar of soap, smelled it, offered it to her—honey and lanolin, studded with lavender, probably very nourishing, but not the greatest way to smell. She coughed a little.

He chuckled, bringing the soap back to his nose. "My mum made soap from goat's milk."

Tillie shook her head. "Not even gonna say it."

"Yours, too?"

"Of course. What was your mom's specialty?"

"Everything honey. Honey soap, honey balm, honey butter, bee pollen. All of it." They eased down the very slim aisles, past the Dr. Bronner's soaps and more modern Green Day products, through the lentils and beans and pastas and bulk dried fruit. She had a sudden yen for granola with raisins. "Hang on. I need some of this."

There used to be plastic bags on rolls, but of course, now they had paper bags of various sizes. Tillie filled a medium-size one, and suddenly thought of her mom, her sleeves and hair swaying, her jewelry clattering, earrings and a multitude of bracelets. Grief rose, wild and emphatic, and tears stung her eyes. She blinked hurriedly, trying to hide her sudden swell of emotion, but Liam noticed. Of course he would.

Instead of words, he handed her a handkerchief. "It's clean."

"Thank you."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"My mom died not long ago. This place is making me think of her."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

As they turned a tight corner, they passed a narrow endcap of incense. The fragrances mingled and swelled, and Tillie reached for a gold package that made her think of her mother. The scents of rose and patchouli filled her sinuses.

She was suddenly struck again by a sense of reality splitting, as if this were a stage set and everything real was on the other side.

She peered through the rent. Faintly in the distance, a spark of light glowed, and she heard something like birds chirping, and caught a scent of roses. A road split a thick forest in two, the tree branches forming a tunnel overhead. In the distance was a house, and she could see a woman cooking at a stove—

Liam grabbed her arm. "Steady there."

She swayed as if she would faint, but all at once, she was back in this reality. Here, in this world, with bright LED lights overhead and the package of incense in her hand. "Are you all right?" Liam asked.

She shook her head. "Um. Yes. I think that painting stirred something up. So weird."

"Is it?"

What she thought, looking up, was that she liked his face. His eyelashes. "I don't know. I'm off-kilter for sure."

"Let's get you home."

"Yeah."

Outside, she sniffed her sleeve. "We'll smell like this for days."

"A memory of home."

"Now I'm craving an avocado and sprouts sandwich on whole-grain bread."

He laughed. "Kumara soup with sunflower seeds."

"What's kumara?"

"Like a sweet potato, I think."

"Is your mom still alive?" Tillie asked.

"Definitely. Trying to run our lives at every turn."

"Lives? How many of you?"

He inclined his head. "Six, believe it or not."

"And where are you in the lineup?"

"Youngest."

"Mm," she said with some disapproval, reaching into the bag for granola as if it were popcorn, then held out the bag to him. "Spoiled."

"Quite," he agreed cheerfully. He accepted the offering, and tossed a cluster of oats and nuts into the air, captured it in his mouth and looked down at her, entirely pleased.

Tillie laughed. Some dark, heavy part of her dropped away.

The station was fairly empty. They stood together, close but not touching, and when they sat down in the sparsely populated car, he took her hand.

"Are you free tomorrow?" he asked.

"No. I wish. I have to drive north to my mother's farm to meet a real estate agent."

He looked genuinely disappointed. "Too bad. I have the day free before I start the next workshop."

"It's not very exciting, but you could ... ride with me?"

"Yeah?" He smiled down at her. "I'd like that."

And then they were kissing again, as if they were fourteen and it didn't matter that there were other people around. Tillie fell adrift in the impossibility of him, and the iridescent bubble of this moment, and asked for nothing more.

This, now, him.

Her body hummed as they walked the two blocks to her apartment. Clouds obscured the moon, leaving only streetlights to illuminate the world.

But it wasn't so dark that she didn't see the figure on her stoop. "Shit," she swore under her breath.

"What's up?"

"The ex."

"Should I go?"

"No."

Jared saw them and jumped to his feet. He was a long-legged, very good-looking man, but Tillie noticed immediately that he was too thin, and by the uncertain, swaying stance, she could tell he'd also been drinking. Hard. "What are you doing here, Jared?"

"You wouldn't answer my texts."

"I told you I was blocking you. Please go home."

"I just want to talk to you." He looked at Liam with a sneer. "But I guess you're not all about talking, right?" He swayed, and she reached out to catch him.

"Let me call you a ride," she said.

"Fuck you. Fuck him." He sank down on the step, then raised his head and howled. Literally, like a wolf. She flushed with embarrassment, for him, for herself. "We are soulmates , Tillie. You know we are!"

Any hopes of having Liam in her bed tonight were rapidly shredding, but this was not okay. "You're free to sit here," she said, "but I—we—are going upstairs."

She took Liam's hand and led him past Jared, who leaned sideways to let them pass, both strange and utterly polite. He didn't move as she unlocked the main door, and when they got to the studio at the top of the building, she looked out the window. He was still there, his head hanging.

"Well, that was fun," she said. "I'm sorry."

Liam stood by the door. "You have a lot going on in your life right now."

She ducked her head. Nodded. "I guess you're going to go, then?"

He was silent a long time. "I don't want to. But I think I should."

Her heart dropped. "Okay."

"Can I still go with you tomorrow?"

"Oh, yes, please!"

"Good." He backed up toward the door. "I'm not going to kiss you because I won't go if I do."

She swallowed her longing to hold him back. "Okay."

"I'll see to your ex down there, too."

And then he was gone.

When she looked outside a few minutes later, Liam was sitting on the stoop next to Jared, who had his head in his hands. She could hear Liam's voice, calm and kind, and after a minute, they stood up together and walked to the curb. A car appeared, and Jared climbed in. She held her breath for a minute, hoping Liam would come upstairs. Instead, hands tucked into his pockets, he walked away. She watched until darkness and distance swallowed him.