Cups with Coriander: Sip Two
I waited for Ethan to collect himself. He ran a hand over his head, pushed his hair back and exhaled heavily. That look was unmistakable; there was only one person I knew who could reduce a man to this state: Cori.
“I know she’s your friend,” he began, in that way that they always did. “I mean, has she said anything? About….us…me?”
“I don’t know. Just…I mean, like, has the subject even come up?”
He was struggling; I’d seen it dozens of times before. The confusion, the helplessness. But this time, her victim was a genuinely decent egg. An egg whom, I admit, I had let cook in my thoughts over the last month before this tête à tête.
I leaned across the table and put my hand on his.
“Look. You’re a good guy. Far better than she deserves.”
He drew his hand back and stiffened.
“I thought she was your girl?”
“She is. But she’s a complicated sort of person.”
He scowled at me sidelong.
“I know. That’s what I like about her. All these other girls have no ideas, no opinions. Cori is smart; she’s got a personality.”
My internal debate GPS rerouted. He’d clearly drunk the Kool-Aid.
I raised my eyebrows and surveyed him imperiously.
“You don’t need to tell ME about Cori. I know her better than ANYONE. I’m just saying, not everyone can handle her. Honestly, if you can’t just ask HER what’s up, then you fall into that category.”
We both fell silent, and I knew that somehow, in an empty coffeehouse with just the two of us at a table, she was still the biggest presence in the room.
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more by VK LYNNE
photograph by Maleny Steve