Page 50 of Chemistry: The Chemist

“I’m aware. Unless you wanted to eat your food blindfolded, that was the only solution.”

“Blindfolded?”

“Yes. Open the glove compartment and put them on.”

“Seriousl–”

“Now, Eden.”

She retrieved the blindfolds, but not without grabbing the box beneath them. I watched as her eyes glistened and a smile turned her lips upward. When she realized the blue Tiffany’s box was hers to have, her neck rotated slightly, eyes landing on me.

“Mine?”

“It wouldn’t be anyone else’s, Choc.”

She didn’t understand the depth of my words now, but she would eventually. I softened around the edges, watching her dig through the box’s content to find a heart-shaped pendant at the end of a thick, chained necklace known for its slogan, Please Return to Tiff–

“Oh wow.”

Her long, slim fingers rubbed the gold, eventually picking up the receipt.

“Fifteen thous–”

“That’s not for you to examine the price. It’s for you to return in the event you don’t like it.”

“Che– that price can’t be accurate. That’s absurd.”

“That’s meager, Eden. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

Flabbergasted, she sunk into the seat, staring at the box. Though she was quiet, I knew her mind was in a million places.

“Penny for your thoughts.” I cleared my throat, hating the gaping hole she was rapidly filling.

She turned toward me, mouth slacked as she waited for the correct words to find her. Unblinking, she gazed. It felt like I’d been waiting forever before she spoke.

“How are you heaven and hell, simultaneously?”

My intentions are good, Eden, I wanted to express. I just have a fucked up way of showing it. I’ve never had to.

“I’m fucked up, baby.”

“What happened to you? What hurt you? What made you this way? Because underneath all the fire, I see the beauty.”

My mother pushed me out into this world. Loved me like I was her entire world. Then left me in this motherfucker like I ain’t need her. Like I ain’t love her. Like she wasn’t my entire world, too. My thoughts were revealed, but my mouth didn’t have the capacity.

“Life, Choc.”

“That’s not enough, Chem. Tell m?—”

“It’s all I’ve got right now. Accept it.”

“I—”

“Please.”

The achiness resided in my words, making me sick to my stomach. I didn’t want to, didn’t need to say more. I wasn’t ready to reveal my pain. I wasn’t ready to expose my wounds. It made me vulnerable and that wasn’t a trait I was ready to reveal either.

With a nod, she settled in the seat. Her eyes left me briefly before they were back on me. I waited, knowing she had more to say but unsure if I was prepared for whatever was to come from her lips.

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