Emily’s Diary – Entry 26

Real Men and Wild Berries

Last week's insane work pace, the need to prove myself, and no sleep all took their toll: both my eyes got inflamed. I caught one look in the mirror, and that was enough. I promised the sorry wretch staring back at me that I'd leave her alone, not even glance her way.

That didn't stop me from wanting to do something for her, though. I couldn't just abandon her completely. I made a trip to the drugstore in the next block for chamomile tea. Turned out they only had the bagged kind — for the loose-leaf stuff I had to go to the pharmacy. But since I was already there, I didn't want to leave empty-handed. I dug up a wad of cash — figured I could spare some for a little self-indulgence…

After a long search, I ended up buying myself a wild-berry-scented body spray. I'm not big on sweet scents, so I picked it off the shelf half-skeptical, but the bottle was so gorgeous I couldn't resist. To my delight, it wasn't sweet at all — just fresh and fruity, like one of those red-berry shower gels.

I went home first, sprayed my entire body — even my hair — and only then headed for the pharmacy. Grumpy didn't disappoint this time.

"Whoa. Looks like you're sliding downhill fast. You're getting worse-looking by the day."

I almost lunged at him and ripped him to shreds, that's how much he pissed me off. I'd been through hell and back lately, all I wanted was to cry my eyes out around the clock, and this smug prick throws out a comment like that. I couldn't hold my tongue.

"You know what?" I snapped. "Then you're not getting any of this today either. I'll keep flushing my eyes with chamomile tea like clockwork, and you can go cuddle up with your woman, your man, or your inflatable sheep." My voice cracked, but that didn't stop me. I gripped the edge of the counter. "My skin smells like wild berries. Everywhere," I hissed. "Just so you know what you're missing out on."

Grumpy's eyes went wide. His face went red, then dead white. All he could do was sputter.

"I—" He couldn't get another word out.

"Two boxes of loose chamomile tea, please, so I don't have to come back here anytime soon," I finished.

The little shit just kept staring at me like he'd forgotten how to blink. He shuffled off into the back room and brought out what I'd asked for. The payment and bagging happened in dead silence.

I was just about to leave when he looked me straight in the eye with those cold blue marbles of his.

"Did you seriously just say inflatable sheep?"

I shrugged.

"Fine, goat, or mosquito, whatever. I have no idea what you fantasize about. Inflamed eyes, I'm guessing not."

He shook his head.

"Have you never had a normal man in your life?"

I froze. Then I completely deflated. Every inch of me burned red. Now I was the one sputtering, and I had to stumble my way to the exit.

Not long after, I was lying there with a warm compress over my eyes, enjoying my well-earned hour of rest, and I burst out laughing about the whole thing. Somehow, it was kind of fun being at odds with Grumpy.

Monday evening, Ben finally called. In that low, husky voice of his. I couldn't help picturing him sprawled out naked, talking to me.

"I got invited to an exhibition on Wednesday. It's a bit far, but not bad by car. It's in a really scenic spot, somewhere I've never been. Want to come with me? I think you'd have a good time."

I nearly dropped the phone. What had gotten into him? Was he really that sure he could get me into bed? I felt my voice completely change, no matter how hard I tried to control it.

"I'm swamped at work. Even weekends are packed lately since I've been working through them, and weekdays are hopeless."

All this after I’d gone sailing and watched the sunrise with him. Shame washed over me. I felt like a compulsive liar.

He went oddly quiet.

"I see, sure. I just… thought maybe. Sorry."

We exchanged a few more awkward words. I asked exactly where the exhibition would be, and then we said goodbye. So awkward.

Despite the awful feeling, I still crashed afterward like I'd been knocked out cold. I didn't wake up until noon the next day. By then I was already reconsidering Ben's call, and by Wednesday I was completely convinced I'd overreacted badly. There'd been no mention of staying over or anything like that. All he'd said was that it was far. And in man-speak, that just means: it's far.

I looked the place up online and scrolled through a bunch of photos. Genuinely gorgeous area. I had no idea what had actually been going on in his head, whether he'd even picked up on the tension radiating off me, but either way, I wanted to fix things. I texted him:

“I looked up the exhibition venue. You really did go somewhere stunning. Now I’m even more sorry to be stuck at my desk, hunched over my laptop, instead of being there. Have a great time!”

What I was hoping it conveyed was: Sorry, Ben, I was an idiot, I jumped to conclusions. I don't think you're some pushy creep, and yes, I'd love to keep getting to know you. I trust you're not upset that I acted like a hysterical bitch, and I can't wait for you to find out how amazing my skin smells thanks to this wild-berry body spray, because I'm obsessed with it! Hugs, and a kiss on that gorgeous mouth of yours. In my imagination, at least.

What exactly Ben made of all that, I'll probably never know. I, for one, am definitely never bringing it up again. Either way, he replied almost instantly.

"Then tell me when we can both be there. I'm definitely free that day…"

My jaw dropped at a message that unambiguous. God, if Grumpy could see this! He'd be begging Ben for private lessons, in tears.

I pictured myself heading down to the pharmacy and telling my high-strung little pharmacist all about the boat chase, the sunrise, all of it. Just so he'd know what a real man looks like. Maybe in his world, a real man is someone who hands out unsolicited opinions in a white coat and clogs, whether anyone wants them or not, but reality is nowhere close to that. Show me one woman who's ever been swept into bed by the clacking of his clogs…

Then again, if inflatable sheep are a thing, I suppose someone might also get turned on by a worn-out white slipper with a wooden sole.

Today's shared breakfast was at my place. And not just any breakfast. Sweet! Pistachio-cream croissants, whipped cream, strawberries, raspberries, blackberries. That kind of indulgence with my friends felt indescribably good. If I hadn’t been embarrassed to do it, I’d definitely have made myself a pink gin and tonic too.

This time we sat down calm and unruffled. Adele had given herself a week off studying, so for once she wasn't stressing nonstop about the bar exam. Sofia, meanwhile, was extremely pleased with her life at the moment. She says she's just realized how damn good it is to be a young adult.

"And work can't be more important than a balanced life," she declared, like she'd already put in forty years on the job.

Mark looked at her with genuine disbelief.

"You're saying that after pulling two on-call shifts this week?"

Sofia just shrugged. She lifted her chin and looked off toward the river. You could've taken a gorgeous photo of that confident woman, casually not giving a damn about the world.

"It's a calling. I'm not doing it out of obligation, and not just so I don't starve."

I didn't dare look at Adele. I sat there with my head down, bracing for the explosion. Stuff like "I've got money, I do what I want" usually drives her up the wall, even when Sofia genuinely works hard for it. But this time, nothing. She just kept blissfully shoveling whipped-cream-covered berries into her mouth.

I had to seize the moment.

"Speaking of strawberries, raspberries, blackberries…" I gushed. "Smell my hair! It smells absolutely divine, like wild berries!"