Raspberry Seeds
The cake is sumptuous. It sends me furtive looks, its sky-blue buttercream little more than a silken slip. Luscious red peeks from between layers, like the whisper of a desperate lover. I can practically feel the tiny seeds of the jam between my teeth, and losing them in an avalanche of velvety white cake.
“Tith! Are you listening?” Father’s words cut through air rather than cake. “Twenty minutes.”
I jolt. His sharp tone ricochets from the marble countertop to polished wooden cabinet doors and into my mind like a stone through glass.
I wipe my mouth, unsure if I’ve been drooling, and raise my eyes to meet Father’s. “What was that, Father?”
“Johnathan just called. He, Thomas, and Andrew finished golfing. They’re on their way.”
The cake smells like skinny-dipping on a cool summer night.
“When he arrives, we’ll start the engagement dinner.”
The marble turns to ice on my palm. My eyes shoot down as if it harmed me. “That’ll be nice. I’m so glad Aunt Peony was able to make it from Montreal.”
“Of course she came! The family was beginning to think you’d never be married.” He jokes, but it’s true. The door swings open and the room is flooded with cacophony for a brief moment.
Lily’s touch is like her namesake, soft and white and smelling of spring. Her sunbeam presence makes my insides glow.
“Tith, there you are. Shouldn’t you be enjoying this party?” She pulls my arm through hers. “Come now, you’re the guest of honor.”
My heart flutters, and I look to the cake for strength. Its sultry gaze is no more help than Lily’s warmth. I turn to Father and shame joins the mix, also unhelpful.
Lily’s eyes call mine, stronger than a finger lifting a chin. The moss-green globes shift like leaves in a breeze. “Mr. McGentry, may I speak to Tith for a moment?”
Father’s stone eyes flick between us, then he leans closer. Mahogany and tobacco, Father’s scent, smell like a dark-wood lounge with strict rules on speaking volume. A smirk creases the edge of his mouth, and his broom of a mustache dances as he laughs at a joke neither I nor Lily understand.
“Of course, girls.” He checks his watch, “no more than five minutes, though. Johnny-boy will be here soon, and then we celebrate.” He claps, and the sound makes my eyes hurt.
When the door swings shut, Lily pulls me into her. Her fingers lace through my hair like wind through flowers. Her touch feels like rain on soil. Like two flames, we don’t burn each other, only the world around us.
We pull apart, but our souls don’t. Lily’s mouth is velvet. Her laughter sounds like water splashing through a flashlight beam during a quick getaway.
“Let’s take the cake with us.” Lily’s words smell like raspberry jam.
I leave buttercream smeared on the back door handle.
