She stepped out of the bathroom in her red dress from the night before, minus the stockings and the thick eyeliner. She pulled her hair up onto the top of her head, and I watched the muscles in her arms do their graceful little dance. Lastly, she walked over to the nightstand and slipped the rings back onto her fingers, one by one.
I remembered the moment she had taken them off, and I felt a small shiver.
"Are we all set?" I said.
I had already put on the same pair of jeans and tank top from the day before.
"Ready, Freddy," she said. She picked up her purse.
"Who is Freddy?" I said.
"It's just an expression."
I opened the door for her.
"I don't get it," I said.
"Nevermind," she said. "I work with kids. It's a kid thing."
"Oh, I see. In that case, I'm ready, Freddy."
We were standing face to face, with the door open. She smiled at me. She hesitated. Then she reached her hand out and touched my shirt, below my waist. She looked down at her hand as she played with the white cotton fabric.
"So, um," she said. "I had a really good time with you. Last night, I mean."
"Yeah. Me, too."
She looked up at me briefly, then looked out the open door. She lowered her voice.
"I don't do this kind of thing often," she said. "I mean, I don't want you to think that I'm, like, some kind of player, or something."
"No," I said. "I definitely don't think that."
"Okay, good. Cause I'm, like, the opposite of a player. I'm, like, a benchwarmer, usually."
"Me, too. Don't worry."
"Get out of here," she said. She pushed me gently.
"What?"
"You must get tons of guys!"
"Non, non."
She looked at me sideways.
"Look," I said. "I've never even...been with a woman before. If you're a benchwarmer, then, I'm not even in the stadium. I'm out in the parking lot somewhere."
"Oh yeah?" she said.
"Yeah."
"You could've fooled me," she said, playfully nudging me.
"Cosima," I said, touching her arm.
I like you. A lot, I thought.
"Seriously, don't worry," I said instead.
She looked up at me, relieved. She sighed.
"Okay."
She was blushing.
I was blushing.
If I was supposed to be waiting for my feelings about her to pass, then I was doing a terrible job. With every shade of pink she turned, my heart turned with her. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
"We're late," I said.
"Right!" she said. "See what I was talking about? Always late."
We got into the elevator, and things were quiet. Then, much to our surprise, the same man got in the elevator — the one that had ridden up with us the night before. He was wearing different pants, but his habit of pulling them up at the waist was the same. He didn't have a toothpick, but he was sucking at his teeth instead.
Cosima looked at me, and her eyes went wide. I only glanced at her, but this time, she didn't brush her pinky against mine.
Disappointed.
We had just enough time for a quick breakfast. Luckily, it was a breakfast buffet. No lines, no wait. I piled my plate with food, more food than I would normally eat in the morning, but somehow, I felt completely famished.
I wonder why that could be? I thought.
Then I smirked at myself.
"Okay," she said. She looked at her wristwatch. "I have approximately thirteen minutes and twenty seconds to scarf this down. So, forgive me if I'm not chatty."
"I completely understand," I said.
"But, I can listen," she said. "So, please feel free to talk my ear off. I mean, I want to know everything about you, but not in, like, a stalker-ish way. Just in a speed-dating kind of way."
I laughed.
"Okay," I said. "Well, what do you want to know?"
"First of all, what's your favorite color?"
"Probably black," I said. "Non, white. Non, black."
"Okay, so… monochromatic?"
She took a huge bite of food, mumbling her next question anyway.
"What about your favorite food, and/or, drink?"
"Are food and drinks the same thing? I think that can be two categories," I said.
"Answer as you like."
"Then, I would have to say, truffles," I said. "And wine. It's cliche, I know."
"Ah-ha! You're a chocolate girl," she said. "Note to self."
She made an invisible check mark in the air with her index finger.
"What do you want to do with your life?" she said.
"Hmm," I said. "That's a tough one. Can I get back to you?"
"Yeah, you're right," she said. "Maybe it's too heavy for breakfast. We need to smoke another joint first."
I laughed.
"Well, do you have any brothers or sisters?" she said.
"Yes," I said. "I have an older brother, but we don't really talk much."
"Hmm," she said. "Is there a back story there?"
"Not really," I said. "He's much older than me. We don't really have a lot in common."
"Okay," she said between bites. "What about pets?"
"Pets?" I said. "Non, non. I don't have time for pets."
"Right, PhD. Obviously. So what is your dissertation about?"
"Oh, you don't really want to know about that," I said. "Not over breakfast."
"Yeah, I do," she said. "At least, tell me the title."
"The title alone would take an entire minute to spit out," I said.
"Don't be shy," she said. "I can take it."
"Alright," I said. "The title is, Natural Killer Cell Activation, Trafficking, and Contribution to Immune Responses to Viral Pathogens."
"Wow," she said. Then she leaned forward over the table. "I think you just turned me on a little bit."
"Shut up!" I said. I know I was blushing. I could tell that my face was hot and red. I looked around to see if anyone else heard her.
"No, I'm serious," she said. "You'll have to tell me all about it later."
She took a sip of her coffee and looked up at me.
"You're so cheeky," I said.
"Speaking of which," she said. "I will be done around four. But maybe I should go home to freshen up. So... dinner, later?"
"Oui," I said. "Bien sûr."
Her eyes lit up and she perked up a bit.
"What does that mean?" she said.
"It means, of course," I said.
"Bien sûr," she said.
God! I can't stand it! I thought. I want to squeeze her face off when she speaks French.
"Don't you have to go?" I said.
"Yes, yes," she said. "Bien sûr."
She wiped her mouth with the white linen napkin. Then she stood. I stood, too.
"You stay," she said. "Please."
"No, it's fine," I said. "It's fine."
I walked her out of the restaurant. And soon we found ourselves facing each other in the middle of the lobby with its marble floor and high ceiling. The place felt big, but the space between us felt small — and so easy to cross into each other's embrace.
I had meant to just kiss her cheek, but, as Americans often do, she pulled me into a hug.
It wasn't a pat on the back, half-bodied hug. It was a full-frontal, my-face-in-her-hair embrace. She held me close, with her hands between my shoulder blades. I have to admit, I was kind of disarmed for a moment. I leaned into her, and then I realized there were other people around.
I pulled away. I looked away. Okay, to tell the truth, I kind of freaked out for a moment.
I looked around the room, but luckily, no one was paying much attention to us.
She let me push her away, but she held onto my arms, fingers gripping my triceps. She gave me one extra squeeze before letting go.
"So, I'll see you tonight?" she said. She looked up at me with her brown eyes, now less hidden by eyeliner, now more vulnerable.
I heard a tiny quiver in her voice.
"Yes, definitely," I said. "About what time?"
"Hmm," she said. She was making a big show about thinking about it, but I could tell something else was on her mind. It was all over her face.
"How about six-ish?" she said. She looked so shy, suddenly.
Merde, I thought. What have I done?
"Where?" I said.
"I'll have to think of someplace good," she said. She wasn't looking me in the eyes. "I'll text you later, okay?"
"Sounds perfect," I said.
"Okay," she said. "I should really, really go."
"Yes, of course," I said. I waved slightly.
"Bye," she said.
She turned around quickly. Then she was out the revolving door, and I was left standing in the middle of that lobby. I might as well have been standing in the middle of the San Francisco Bay — that's how alone I felt.
"Au revoir, Cosima," I said to myself, because she was already gone.
What am I going to do with myself now? I thought. And why am I such a fool?