Meg: Meeting with Pete moved to 3 p.m. Seth and I are NOT dating.
But it’s the incoming text that puts a smile on her face.
Levi: Good morning, wildflower.
Wildflower?
Lying back down and curling up in her duvet, Thessaly decides to call Levi.
“Hi,” he answers on the first ring.
“Hi. Thank you for bringing me home last night.” She smiles.
“Oh, so you do remember me carrying you home? This is becoming quite the routine, Tess.”
“Was I really that bad?” Thessaly cringes, praying she didn’t barf or say anything stupid.
“Your face was green, and you kept trying to rap a Coolio song, but you didn’t do anything embarrassing.” Levi huffs rhythmically as a beeping noise echoes through the speaker.
Twirling a greasy lock of hair, Thessaly grins. “Whatcha doin’?”
“Just finished my run and heading to the shower. I’m meeting with a new group of Afghani refugees starting the immigrant program today. And then I have a business seminar about composting. Oh, and tonight the farm is hosting a dinner party. You should come, Tess.”
Without pausing, she replies, “I’d love to come – and I promise not to rap.”
“That’s a shame. You can really throw down the gangsta beats.”
“My East coast rap is even better. I’ll see you later, Levi.”
“Eight o’clock, wildflower.”
Blissful, she ends the call and then immediately phones Meg.
But Seth answers the phone. “Good morning, Pony Boy.”
“Oh my God!” Thessaly slaps the bed and wheezes.
“Calm down. I thought you knew?” Seth claims.
Thessaly controls her laughter and says, “I had an idea, but seriously? Does Meg know?”
“Tess, it’s not a thing. It’s just a thing-thing.” Meg’s raspy voice erupts through the speaker while the sound of her smacking Seth echoes in the background.
“I think it’s a great thing-thing, Meg!”
“Don’t get your hopes up, it could end in murder by the weekend.”
“Ha! So, hey, I’m not feeling great and I’ll be working all day in the shop tomorrow,” Thessaly starts.
“Did Levi spend the night?” asks Meg, shushing Seth’s Arsenio Hall impression in the background.
“Not yet. But he has carried me home. Twice.”
“Wait, you two haven’t—”
Lifting the duvet and seeing her underwear, Thessaly replies, “Nope. But Meg, I feel incredible when I’m with him.”
“Yes, and think how incredible it will feel when he’s in you.”
“Meg!” Thessaly screeches. “But I know, right?” she adds.
“Sleep in, go to that meeting in TriBeCa, and then relax. I’ll put Seth to work – he responds very well to the favor system.”
“Thanks – I’ll check in with you two lovebirds later.”
“Gross.”
Ending the call, Thessaly turns back on her side and powers on her portable Bose speaker. Choosing a soothing playlist from Spotify, she scrolls through the photo album on her phone, hoping to find clues from her night with Levi.
A pitcher of sangria.
A littered sidewalk.
A black blob.
A blurry cab.
She deletes the four random pictures and then pauses on a great photo of them together. Opening the candid shot in Instagram, she’s unable to find a filter better than the natural tincture – the true mark of a great picture. Zooming in on the background, she suddenly remembers the conversation she started about never being on a yacht.
“Oh, crap,” she groans.
It’s all coming back to her now . . . She had bitched about Mason and his new girlfriends, and she had whined about wanting to be the exotic beauty on a boat. Thessaly had revealed too much, and she had unpacked her relationship baggage.
But instead of freaking out, Levi suggested, “Let’s find ourselves a yacht.”
They skipped to the pier with ice cream cones, and then Levi paid a security guard fifty bucks to board an expensive yacht and take their picture. But what she doesn’t remember, or rather, what Thessaly doesn’t realize, is that Levi posted the photo on Instagram seconds after it was taken.
Hot chicks of Instagram.
#wildflower #realmenharvestcrops
Feeling refreshed and rested after a long shower followed by a few hours of baking, Thessaly heads out of her apartment with a Thermos and a collapsible picnic basket of food. Waving to the lazy doorman, she spills out into the humid, urban bubble, and then makes a sharp left.
Approaching the man with the jar of peacock feathers, she announces, “Hello.”
Looking up from his journal, he smiles.
Placing the basket and the Thermos of iced tea on the ground next to him, Thessaly clears her throat and explains. “I made cranberry scones and blueberry muffins. There’s also some utensils and napkins, oh, and a sample jar of my artisan honey. Um, I like my tea super sweet with a hint of lemon, which most New Yorkers think is disgusting, so I threw in some bottles of water.” She pauses, watching as he bites the inside of his cheek. “Look, I won’t be offended if you toss it all in the trash after I leave.”
“I won’t toss it in the trash,” he promises.
Completely shocked, Thessaly exclaims, “You spoke to me!”
“Yeah, you had me at cranberry scones.”
Shielding her eyes from the sun, Thessaly moves closer and leans against the brick wall. “Can I ask you a few questions?”
“Am I crazy? No. Am I a veteran? No. Am I a rapist? No. Am I homeless? No.” He removes a bottle of water from the basket and smiles. “Anything else?”
Studying his expensive Nike’s and the tan line formed from a watch, Thessaly blurts, “What’s your name?”
“Lucas.”
“What’s with the journal? Are you stalking someone?”
“I write stories.”
Peering down at him, she asks, “Are you one of those Post reporters pretending to be homeless?”
“Do I look like an asshole?” chuckles Lucas.
“So you write fiction?”
“Everything is fiction once it’s written.”
“Deep.” Thessaly nods to the jar of peacock feathers. “What’s with the feathers?”
Shaking his head slowly, Lucas sighs. “Just feathers. What’s your name?”
“Tess.” Realizing she made the mistake of giving her real name, she quickly adds, “Er, Tesshalaperria Santiago.”
“Cuban?”
“Dominican.”
“I like Tess – can I call you Tess?”
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”
“Pee Wee Herman?” asks Lucas.
“A favorite.” She smiles.
“Agreed.” He smiles.
Studying his tan face and minimal lines, Thessaly asks, “So how old are you, Lucas?”
“Thirty-nine. What about you, Tess?”
“Twenty-seven.”
Placing her hands on her hips, Thessaly asks, “What’s with your cardboard sign?”
“Just a project.”
“About love?”
“Love is all you need.” Lucas smirks.
“So, where do you go when you’re not here?”
“Battery Park.”
“Like the actual park?”
“No. Like an actual apartment building.”
Thessaly asks, “And when will you leave?”
“As soon as the story is complete.”
Nodding in sarcasm, Thessaly says, “Gotcha.” She glances at her watch and then announces, “Lucas, it’s been real.”
“Thanks for the snacks, Tess Santiago.” Tilting his head in the direction of the cardboard sign, Lucas adds, “Thoughts?”
“Oh, no! I mean, I have to get to a meeting like five minutes ago. Have a nice day, Lucas.”
In a gravelly voice, Lucas demands, “Be sure and tell ‘em Large Marge sent ya.”
“Good one!” she yells back over her shoulder.
Walking north with a huge grin, she hails a cab to TriBeCa. It’s a rare occasion for her not to walk, but running late for a meeting with one of her favorite clients demands a taxi escort. Seated in the backset with no air, Thessaly fans herself with an Arby’s flyer left on the seat while answering a call from Mason.
“Hi, Mason,” she says.
“Tess! Come to the Hamptons with me this weekend. It’ll be like our first summer in New York.”