The Henna Wars(74)

I bite down a smile, but I can’t help the way warmth spreads all over me.

“You like it?” I ask.

“It’s beautiful,” Ammu says.



I’m somewhere between relief and sadness when the day finally comes to an end and I can pack up my things and head home.

“You know, the other businesses aren’t as original as yours,” Abbu tells me in the car, between Rabindranath sangits.

“And not as talented either,” Ammu adds with a nod toward Abbu.

“They’re obviously very jealous of you to have done what they did,” Priti says, crossing her arms over her chest and looking out the window. She’s probably talking about Ali. But I doubt any of it was because of jealousy.

“It doesn’t matter,” I sigh. “Only a few more weeks …” Considering the way my customers had swiftly dwindled from few to none, I seriously doubt I’m in the running to win. No matter how original my idea is, or how talented I apparently am.

To my surprise, a few minutes after we get home, the bell rings. When I swing the door open, Flávia is standing in the doorway, her face flushed from the cold.

“Hey …” she says. I saw her out of the corner of my eye a few times during the showcase today, but our stalls were so far apart, and after I found my stall trashed I couldn’t face going up to hers.

“Hi.”

She gives me a hesitant smile and says, “You know it wasn’t Chyna. She was with me the whole day today.”

I shake my head. “Come inside.” I step aside to allow her through, and close the door behind us.

We stand at the threshold, taking each other in like maybe this is the last time we’ll be able to. It feels far more dramatic than it should, and all I’m really thinking about is that day in her house and how she said goodbye to me in her doorway by brushing my hair behind my ear. I feel goosebumps erupt on my skin just at the thought.

“Tea?” I push past her into the kitchen.

“Sure.”

I put the kettle on and pick out two mugs from the cabinet, getting them ready with tea bags.

“Do you want to sit?”

Flávia looks at the stiff wooden chairs against the dining table and nods. She slips into one, looking out of place and uncomfortable. I bring the tea to her, and take my place on the opposite side of the table.

“So …”

“So …”

She cradles her mug in her hand, but doesn’t take a sip. I didn’t even ask her how she likes her tea, I realize. I just made it the way I make it for myself. I should have asked. Now she’ll have a horrible cup of tea that she can’t even drink and maybe that’ll be the only thing she’ll remember about me and our relationship. I’ll be the girl she kissed who smelled like henna and made her horrible tea and made her sit in a terribly uncomfortable chair through an even more uncomfortable silence because conversation was too difficult for her.

“I think—” I say at the same time that she says, “I’ve been thinking—”

We both pause. Catch each other’s eye. Smiles spread across our faces simultaneously.

Flávia reaches her hand across the table until her fingers find mine. She laces them together. Our hands fit perfectly together. Hers is still cold from outside. Mine is warm from the tea.

“I’ve been thinking about what happened today and … I’m sorry. I should have come to you. Spoken to you. Texted you. Something. I mean, it wasn’t Chyna, but she wasn’t exactly sad about it. She’s been saying stuff about you for a long time now.” She grips my hand tighter. “It’s just that I’ve been so afraid they’ll all turn around and do the same to me if I speak up. That they’ll know. I’m … not ready for anyone to know yet.”

I exhale. My decision pieces together in my mind, like a puzzle finally coming together.

“I understand.”

“You do?” She raises an eyebrow.

“I do, but …”

She sighs. “There it is.”

“I just don’t think I can deal with it right now. Not with everything going on and … with Chyna being your cousin … I just … I can’t pretend and hide. I can’t sneak around for you. I can’t—”

“I’m not asking—”

“I know.” I cut her off because I do know. Flávia should tell them when she’s ready. When she wants to. When she thinks it’s her time. She should tell them for her, not for me. But that doesn’t change how I feel. I can’t take back the fact that Ali has outed me. I don’t want to take it back. And to go into hiding with Flávia would be a step back, not a step forward. “I just can’t deal with it, I guess. Being with you but … having to deal with them. When they don’t know. And the things they’ll say … about me and my family. I can’t take it.”

She nods. Her hand squeezes mine for a moment. The warmth of her spreads through me.

Then she pulls back her hand. The distance between us seems miles long all of a sudden. It’s unfathomable that just a moment ago we were touching.

“I get it.” There’s a waver in her voice I wish I couldn’t hear. “I should go.”

“Flávia.”