by Troy Hunter
I will die if I finally get the courage to confess to him and then throw up mid-confession. Literally, die.
After I finish eating, I move to take Opal from Nate, but he shakes his head. “I’ll keep her for a bit,” he says, “So you’re free to interact with your adoring customers.”
“I hope I can handle it,” I say, as I sweep my hand towards the absent customers.
“I don’t know,” Selene says. “They look really tough.”
It’s technically before the opening of the farmer’s market, and by word of mouth, I’ve learned that most people won’t show up until after lunch anyway. That leaves me with seven hours before I can expect the bulk of my customers. There are a couple clusters of them, but they’ve come from the other direction. I hope most people don’t come from that direction.
“So what are you going to do if you sell out?” Nate asks.
“I’m sure I won’t,” I reply.
Although it would be nice if I did. I set out my business cards. I might be able to get custom orders, too, while I’m here. There are only three weeks left until Christmas which would mean a quick turnaround, but I’m up for the challenge. I just hope my customers believe I am.
“How goes the film?” I ask. “Did you settle on a title?”
“Not yet,” Nate replies. “I think at this point, I’m just going to let it be called Untitled. That sounds either very ominous or like the default option in a Microsoft Word document depending on how you look at it.”
“If it makes you feel better, I’m no better with names.”
I very creatively named my business Felix’s Finds, after all. I figured if I couldn’t come up with a good name, I could at least aim for some sort of alliterative appeal.
“I know,” Nate said, “But I guess you can still be my friend.”
“You guess?”
“How gracious of him,” Selene replies.
Nate gives her a death-glare, which Selene arches an eyebrow at.
“Obviously, I should be looking for friends who have the skills I lack,” Nate argues, “But here we are with a similar skill set. It’s absolutely tragic.”
“You might want to redefine the way you’re thinking about tragedies if that qualifies,” I say.
Nate only shrugs. Opal has grasped his finger and doesn’t seem willing to release it. She’s been doing that to my fingers lately, too, and I probably should’ve warned Nate about that. But watching him stare, utterly baffled, at my child is worth not letting him in on that little fact.
Customers trickle through, and I rise to help them. Nate seems content to hold Opal and let me work, and Selene takes the other side of our stand, easily rattling off memorized prices and impressive-sounding sales pitches. It’s really good that they agreed to come with me. This is much easier than trying to run the business and watch Opal. And this? This is fun. I like watching people’s faces light up when they realize they’ve found the perfect Christmas present. I’m doing well.
As the hours speed by, we grow busier and busier. By the end of the farmer’s market, I haven’t managed to sell everything, but I have at least a few thousand dollars in sales. I hadn’t expected to do nearly this well.
I take Opal again, only because Nate graciously offers to carry everything back to my car. Well, almost everything. Selene gamely takes the rest and shoves it into the backseat. But I don’t pay much attention to Selene. Instead, I watch Nate put everything in. It’s just a banal movement, taking a box of carefully packed jewelry and stacking it in the car, but with every movement, the muscles of his back shift and pull. He looks like a model out here, lightly dressed in a tight-fitting, long sleeved thermal. I lick my lips and try not to let him hear my breath catch.
Selene comes around to the trunk and helps Nate throw the rest of it in. Once everything is safely inside my car, Nate slams the trunk like it’s personally offended him. “And that’s a wrap,” Selene says. “Good first day, huh?”
I nod. “Really good,” I say. “Are you sure you don’t want me to pay you though?”
Selene shakes her head, but I’m not entirely persuaded. I feel guilty that she’s here. Maybe no so much Nate. Whether I’d asked or not, Nate probably would’ve just shown up, but Selene is different. She didn’t have to come.
“Why don’t the two of you go out to lunch?” Nate asks. “I’ll take Opal home. It’s been a while since you had a break, Felix, and it’s been a while since the two of you had a chance to catch up, right?”
“You don’t want to go?” I ask.
When doesn’t Nate want to go everywhere with me? I wonder if he’s feeling well or if I’ve done something wrong.
“No, I need to do last minute edits. Film things. They’re never-ending,” Nate replies. “You and Selene have fun. I’ll take Opal off your hands for a bit, okay?”
“Sure. Thank you,” I say. “Selene?”
Selene looks like she knows something I don’t, but whatever it is, she doesn’t say. “I’m good with that,” she answers. “Let’s go.”
Selene and I decide to grab lunch at a new café on 9th. It’s a small, cute place. A bit pricey, but their food is good. Once we’re seated, Selene heads right for the wine menu.
“If you want to get wasted, I’ll drive,” I offer.
Selene smiles wryly. “I just want a little something,” she says.
One thing I do miss about Target is that most of the night-shift would get together on Saturday nights at the local Irish pub. I always had an Irish coffee, and when I think back on it, I realize Selene always had a single glass of red wine. I miss Irish coffee, but I’ve still not quite gotten out of my pregnancy habits. I haven’t even touched caffeine since before Opal, but now that I’m thinking about it, coffee does sound like a great choice.
Selene orders a glass of cabernet sauvignon; I order a small coffee, drowned in cream, just like usual. The waitress returns with our drinks and takes our orders. “Did you know you’re named after a moon goddess?” I ask.
“I didn’t,” Selene says. “Where did you learn that?”
“I found it when I was looking up names for Opal.”
“And Felix mean ‘cat?’” she asks.
“No, Felix means lucky. Nate was just a very poor student as a child,” I reply.
“Well, I suppose you are rather lucky,” Selene says. “A booming business, a kid, friends who love you.”
“I suppose. What about you? How’s the café?”
“It’s a job,” Selene replies. “Way better than Target, but then, that’s most jobs. The pay isn’t anything to brag about, but I’m getting by. I’m looking into master’s programs. It’s so expensive applying to them, but I’m bound to get into at least one. I have good grades, and they’re always ready to accept omegas, especially women.”
“That’s really great,” I say.
“I think so. What drew you to jewelry?”
“I never told you?”
“No,” Selene replies. “I just know you have the business.”
I hold up a finger while I swallow a hot gulp of coffee. I definitely should’ve let it sit more. “It’s silly,” I say, “But as a child, I went through a phase where I was very invested in rocks and minerals. I wanted to be a geologist.”
“I wanted to be a forensic investigator of all things,” Selene says.
“Really? What happened?”
“I realized I wouldn’t get to wear cool coats like the detectives on TV,” she replies. “That, and the job loses something when you realize it can take fucking months to get evidence back from crime scenes. I wanted to be catching serial killers right away and that’s not quite how the real world works. I went with physics because…everything makes sense there. I guess I like there to be order in the world.”
I nod in understanding.
“What about you?” Selene asks.
“I realized that being a geologist requires you to be very good at math and science, and I’m not. The only thing I was ever good at was
art, so I thought I’d combine my love for gemstones with my love for design.”
“I think that was a damn good choice,” Selene replies. “From what I’ve seen, your jewelry is beautiful. You clearly put a lot of effort and thought into designing it, and the result reflects that.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“How are you doing with your baby?” Selene asks.
“Fine, I suppose,” I say. “There’s definitely a learning curve. I’m learning to adjust myself to her sleep schedule.”
Selene chuckles. “Well, here’s to you,” she says, raising her glass of wine. “I’m sure you’re doing fine, and Nate is helping you, of course.”
He certainly is. I bite the inside of my cheek and consider spilling everything right there to Selene, but I don’t. “Yeah, he’s a huge help, but don’t let him fool you,” I say. “Trust me. Nate has his flaws, and I can name all of them.”
Selene smiles. “I hadn’t noticed,” she replies.
I return her smile and can’t help but laugh. Oh, I’d bet money she’s noticed.
“But most of them are typical alpha flaws,” Selene says. “He’s really fucking arrogant, but he’s not overbearing like some. Blunt, but damn, I’ve seen much worse. It seems like Nate is a decent guy overall.”
“He’s actually gotten better over the years,” I reply. “When he was a kid, he was so much more stubborn. A real troublemaker, too. He got into a lot of fights, although being an alpha, that was sort of expected. I used to want to be more like him though. I’ve always had a hard time standing up for myself.”
“Why is that?”
“I think I’m too soft-hearted,” I say. “I don’t want people to be mad at me, and when they are, I can’t stand it.”
Selene nods and trails her finger around her wine glass. “I don’t think you need to feel guilty, but being soft-hearted is always a strength, Felix. Not a fucking weakness, no matter what anyone tells you. And if we’re being honest? If people like anything about you, it should be your ability to care for others.”
“Why do you say that?”
Selene takes a sip of wine. “No reason. It’s just an observation. You’re good at caring. That’s a rarer trait than you might think. I want to be a teacher, remember? One of the pre-requisites is being good at figuring out how people are feeling.”
“I’d never noticed if you were especially good at that,” I admit.
Selene laughs. “Well, that’s all the better for me, isn’t it?” she asks mischievously.
13
Felix
I throw myself into raising Opal and into my work. It’s two weeks ‘til Christmas, and my sales are booming. I keep editing my Etsy listings, making note of my worklog and how late I can take orders and guarantee delivery by Christmas. In another week or so, I’ll have to edit them again, rescinding my before-Christmas guarantee.
I like being busy and it’s even better when I’m the person in charge. In hindsight, I do sort of wish I’d walked into Target on Black Friday, just to really accentuate the point that I don’t have to work retail anymore. I have joined the ranks of small business, but there’s a little problem with that.
I hadn’t expected a profit so quickly. It isn’t uncommon for a business to be completely unprofitable for the first couple of years, but I’m actually managing it. I keep working, putting out new, last minute additions to my inventory. Right now, my digital storefront is filled with snowflakes, holly leaves, reds, and greens. But it’s the holidays.
The holidays mean more sales, sales that will taper off drastically in a few short weeks. I’ve saved every dime I could but I’ve also been applying everywhere. Do I want my business to succeed? Absolutely. But I also know the importance of having a back-up plan. And a back-up plan for my back-up plan.
I’m readying for the post office when Nate walks in. These days, I’m a complete nightmare for the postal workers. I have at least thirty packages, and Opal has made trips more difficult. It’s hard to carry a baby, a diaper bag, and so many packages.
So really, Nate arriving at this moment is a godsend. He grabs the packages without a word. I keep ahold of Opal and gather her diaper bag. Nate heads towards his Porsche. “Hey, if we take my car, we won’t have to swap the car seat over,” I say.
Nate grimaces, but nevertheless, he heads for my car. I put Opal in her car seat, while Nate takes the driver’s side. It’s my car, but I don’t press the issue of who’s driving. Nate has always been anal about being the driver, and he swears my driving scares him half to death. It’s funny that I’ve never been in a single car accident to his two.
“Which post office do you usually go to?” he asks.
“Davis.”
“You go to the shady looking one?” he asks.
“It’s just like any other post office,” I reply. “How many post offices have you even been in? What would you even have to mail?”
“Christmas cards.”
“Firstly, you can stick those in a mailbox. Secondly, I know you make Eleanor handwrite all those Christmas cards. I imagine she mails them.”
“I went to the Davis post office once because I had to pay customs,” Nate admits, “And another time because I had to sign in-person for something. I’m still not entirely sure why on the second one. That seems to only happen when I buy from Japan for some reason.”
I hum. I’ve never received anything internationally, but I’ve shipped a few things abroad, mostly to western Europe. I did have to add that I don’t pay customs for my items after a customer from England complained. I don’t know why someone from Europe would assume I would pay customs duty for them or keep them from having to pay it, but I suppose there’s a learning curve to online selling as much as with anything else. Now I know, and now every single listing I have declares in bold letters that I’m not responsible for customs or tariffs.
“So are you and Opal coming over for the Christmas party?” Nate asks.
“If we’re being invited, sure,” I say. There’s no better Christmas dinner than at Nate’s house. Even his Christmas leftovers are pretty great.
“Have I ever not invited you?” Nate asks.
No, but I’m still not going to be rude and just assume. “Yeah, we’ll be there,” I say. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Nate replies. “You’re starting to lose your baby fat. Are you sure you’re eating?”
“I am,” I reply, “Better than ever. I can even afford to buy name-brand these days.” Although I don’t know precisely how long that will last.
“Congratulations,” Nate replies. “You’re really moving up in the world.”
“Uh huh,” I say.
“So what do you want for Christmas?” Nate asks.
“Stuff for the baby.”
“But that’s for the baby,” Nate says.
“That’s enough, then,” I reply. “A copy of your movie.”
“It’s being released in February,” Nate says.
“Then, surprise me,” I reply.
“Surprise you,” Nate echoes.
Yeah. Because I take surprises much better than he does. “Sure,” I reply. “Buy me whatever you want. A cake, baby formula, a Keurig. I couldn’t care less. You’re getting jewelry, probably.”
“Jewelry?”
“Yeah. The only way I can get you something you don’t already have is if it’s something I make.”
“You’re not right,” Nate says.
“Hey, I am much easier to buy for than you,” I say. “Everything I pick out for you, I look at and think, hm…if Nate really wanted this, he’d already have it. Then, I second-guess and put it back. The only way I can win is if I buy you something I know you’d never imagine buying. Like canned bread.”
“That exists?” Nate asks.
“Yes,” I reply.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Even I’m not so desperate as to buy canned bread. I get mine in a loaf, just like everyone else. Al
l the little people, anyway.”
When we arrive at the post office, Nate takes my packages. I retrieve Opal and her diaper bag. After carrying her around for so long, I’m probably going to have muscles that rival Nate’s. He holds the door open for me, and as predicted, the post office is packed. The line of people nearly extends to the door.
“Is this typical?” Nate asks. “I’ve heard post offices usually have waits, but…”
“It’s the holidays,” I remind him. “I mean, that’s why we’re here.”
Nate shifts the plastic tub of packages and balances it on his hip. “Okay, that was probably a dumb question,” he concedes.
“I won’t rub it in,” I reply.
“Damn,” Nate says. “I don’t know how I’d live without your generosity. Such a giver.”
I smile sunnily. “I don’t either. You sure are lucky to have me,” I say.
When Nate doesn’t answer right away, I raise an eyebrow at him.
“Did I upset you the other day?” I ask. This is probably the closest I’ll get to asking him directly how he feels.
“What are you talking about?”
“You didn’t want to grab lunch with Selene and me,” I say. “I thought that was kind of odd for you.”
“Oh! No, don’t be absurd,” Nate says. “I just thought you and Selene might want to spend some time together. I mean, she’s your friend. Not mine.”
I almost laugh. That makes perfect sense, actually. “Sorry. I guess I was just overthinking it. I’m going to the farmer’s market again this weekend,” I say. “Are you coming?”
“Yeah, sure,” Nate replies, sounding distracted. “I might as well help you with Opal.”
He won’t even touch on what I want him to. I don’t expect him to. I just really need to figure out a way to tell this man I love him, but if I don’t tell him, I don’t have to risk him not loving me back.
One week and counting until Christmas. Nate and I make the trip back up to Jackson. Apparently, he has most of the film figured out, but he wants to get a few more shots to help establish the scene. Once we’re in Jackson, we stop frequently for Nate to film what looks to me like a bunch of unrelated, useless things. He films falling leaves, the clouds drifting over the sun, and even gets almost on all-fours to record some ants crawling over a dead opossum.
