Page 409 of The First Time
"That's why it suits you." I take a step backwards. "No offense."
"It's good to know your strengths and weaknesses." He turns back to the sink.
I slink to the main room, grab my sketchbook, and plop on the couch. I need to capture all the thoughts racing around my head. First, the funeral. Six panels. Starting with a closed casket. It's a little obvious, but it's necessary.
Then Blake, sitting in a cheap chair in his expensive suit, his eyes on the floor, his expression miserable.
And me, behind him, considering coming up to him.
A point-of-view shot of him standing.
Him at the podium.
The wordsShe was everything.
"I like you lost in thought." Blake leans in to plant a kiss on my lips.
He tastes like mint toothpaste.
"Aren't you used to it?" I ask.
"I still like it." He takes a step towards the kitchen. "You want coffee?"
"Yes please."
He moves into the kitchen. I turn back to my drawing.
Slowly, the smell of java fills the room. That French roast with vanilla. The one he was drinking after the pool. I can't even smell vanilla without thinking about it.
I try putting last night into a panel, but I don't know where to start. At the diner? The drive here? My body pressed against his on the couch?
How can I put all my feelings about him into four or ten or even a hundred panels?
The smell of red peppers and olive oil fills the room.
I give up on work and move into the kitchen.
Blake pushes vegetables around a pan. He cracks eggs in a clean plastic bowl, whisks them, pours them in the pan.
He is a good cook.
At least if the smell of that omelet is any indication.
He turns back to me. Runs his fingers through my hair. Looks down at me like I'm the secret to all the happiness in the world. "Cream and sugar?"
"Please." I rise to my tiptoes to kiss him. This is so normal. So domestic. So sweet.
It's perfect.
He fills two mugs and adds just enough cream and sugar to one.
I steal the coffee from him and take a long sip.
It's perfect.
And it makes me think of him. Of vanilla on his lips. I get lost in my mug. And my thoughts. It's been less than two months, but it feels like it's been forever. Was it really me who ran into Blake? It feels like she was another person entirely.
"Here." Blake sets a plate in front of me. An omelet, avocado, two dozen raspberries.
