She sets me down gently and pulls up the covers, the way a mother would.
“There we are,” she says. “Good night, Annie. Sleep well.”
She hovers her hand over my face. My eyes close, and I fall into what will be the best sleep of my life.
CONVENIENT, INCONVENIENT
My apartment is spotless. The dishes are done; my laundry is clean and folded on the couch. There’s a bouquet of fresh flowers on the coffee table. Fat-petaled roses and orange chrysanthemums in full bloom.
Resting on the lip of my bathtub is an assortment of bar soaps and jars of thick, buttery lotion. There is a small candle on the top of the toilet in a bronze tin.
Sophie.
I light the candle and take a long, hot shower. I use one of my new bars of soap and it feels like silk, smells like bergamot. After, I slather myself with the lotion. I watch as the persistent scales on my knees and elbows disappear in an instant. I watch in the mirror while I massage the lotion into my face, and my skin glows in its wake.
The marriage of fragrances between the soap and the lotion and the subtle lemony contribution from the candle have relaxed me into a state of complete dopey giddiness. I float around without a thought in my head, without a single fuck to give.
I get my bathing suit out of the bottom drawer of the dresser and pack it along with a pair of pajamas and a sweater in my large purse.
I go to blow out the candle in the bathroom, but it’s already been done for me. I go to get a drink of water, and there’s a glass on the counter waiting. Cold, with a lemon wedge.
I drink it down.
On the way out, by the door, there’s a spider.
I stop to say hello.
I watch as the spider lifts one of his legs and begins to wave it back and forth, back and forth.
* * *
—
I meet Sophie outside of the Good Mug tent at the market.
“My Annie,” she says, hugging me tightly, and kisses me on the cheek. “How did you sleep?”
“Great, actually,” I say. “I feel amazing. Thank you for the soaps. And the flowers. And for cleaning my apartment.”
She puts a hand on my shoulder. “Please. For my Annie? Anything.”
“At least let me get you coffee. Are you hungry? What would you like?”
“Yes, coffee,” she says. “And yes, food. Maybe something sweet.”
I lean in close to her. “You said you don’t eat children, right?”
She laughs. “Right.”
“Just wanted to confirm.”
“Common misconception,” she says. “I was thinking more along the lines of a donut. Or muffin. We can go to the bakery after we get our coffee. Have you met Deirdre yet? She’s a singular talent.”
“I haven’t.”
“We’ll fix that.”
“What do you want for coffee? Latte?”
“Whatever you’re getting. Make things simple for Oskar,” she says. “Poor bloke.”
He looks up at us. He does have sad eyes. Or maybe they’re angry. I can’t tell.
“Good morning, Annie,” he says. “Good morning, Sophie.”
“Morning,” Sophie says.
“Two vanilla lattes, please,” I say. “Large.”
He grunts. He is significantly less friendly when Sophie is around.
To be fair, I think Sophie gets a kick out of making him uncomfortable. As he steams the milk, she begins to twirl her fingers, somehow contorting the steam cloud into a grumpy face. He pretends not to notice, but I know he does.
Sophie presses her lips together, trying not to laugh. I do. I laugh. I can’t help it.
“Here you go,” he says. “It’s eleven.”
I pay him, then allow Sophie to lead me away. We walk over to a tent where baked goods are sold. Rose is there talking to a woman wearing an apron over a mustard jumpsuit. She has a shaved head and wears big wooden earrings.
“Deirdre,” Sophie says.
Deirdre jumps a little at the sound of Sophie saying her name.
“Sophie!” she says, her voice shrill. “Good morning, Sophie. How are you? What can I get for you?”
“Have you met Annie?” she asks.
“No, I haven’t. Rose told me about you.”
“Hi. Nice to meet you. Hi, Rose.”
Rose is also less friendly with Sophie around. She gives a weak smile, then slips behind Deirdre.
“I made some strawberry-pistachio donuts,” Deirdre says. “Here, take some. I can throw in some muffins, too. I’ve got apple and carrot.”
She begins to fill a large box with pastries and donuts and muffins.