Status: for Kandi
Turquoise.
turquoise
His blazer is drenched, his hair still dripping from the rain. The weather is too warm to be frozen rain, too cold to move his fingers. There's a puddle in the old elevator where he stood, and with each step, there's a sloshing sound in his Oxfords. He grips his broken umbrella so loosely it almost slips from his hands.
He knocks on the door tiredly, and Kandi answers, her eyebrows raised. “I told you you shouldn't come,” she says quietly, inviting him inside. “You're soaked.”
“Wind broke my umbrella.” He shivers. “God, it's freezing in here.”
“It's 75 degrees Fahrenheit.” She frowns. “I'll give you a robe, and I'll stick all your stuff in the dryer or something. Go shower to warm up.”
He nods as she hastily attempts to find her unused spa robe and tells him to change in the bathtub. She hands him a trash bag.
The weatherman promised clear, sunny skies and weather in the early 50s, unusual for January, but great weather nonetheless. When Kandi woke up, the clouds loomed with scattered thunderstorms and heavy rain. She closes the blinds as the thunder starts up again. She sticks the cake back into the box and slips it into the refrigerator. She puts the candles back into a kitchen drawer.
Logan comes out of the bathroom with the trash bag sagging. Kandi opens the closet and dumps the sopping mass into the washing machine and pours some Tide, setting it on “cold wash”. “I think it's already been through that,” he says.
“It could use some soap.”
“Sorry about your birthday.” He looks at the hardwood floor. “I bought some flowers, but my umbrella broke, and they were all beaten up from the hard rain.” He points to a neatly-wrapped, damp box with a purple bow. “I'm glad your present made it, at least.”
“You really shouldn't have.”
“Every girl should get something special for her birthday.” He pauses. “Where's your cake?”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you mean 'what do you mean'?”
She leans against the closet. “I...um, I put it away.”
“Why?”
“Because we're not having a party.”
Logan laughs. “That's a lame excuse.”
“A lame excuse for what?”
“For not celebrating your birthday.”
Kandi frowns. “I am celebrating my birthday.”
“How? By boring yourself?” Logan opens the refrigerator and pulls out the cake. Kandi grabs the candles, Logan searching for the lighter. They light them together, and he takes in a deep breath:
“Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday, dear Kandi
Happy birthday to you.”
She blows out the candles, smiling. Kandi cuts the cake very slowly, trying to make it as even as possible. Logan pushes his soggy present closer to her. “Open it.”
She unravels the peeling wrapping paper and opens the box to find a smaller turquoise one with a neat white bow. Kandi looks at Logan. “This is--”
“Open it.”
She pulls the ribbon apart and lifts the lid, pulling out the necklace. On the silver chain is a black stiletto with a turquoise back. “It doesn't say 'I love you' or anything – I mean, not that I don't love you, but..”
She presses her lips onto his.
“I...I just thought it would be lame,” Logan finishes, his face crimson. He reaches for her hand. “Happy birthday.”
“...Thanks.”
He knocks on the door tiredly, and Kandi answers, her eyebrows raised. “I told you you shouldn't come,” she says quietly, inviting him inside. “You're soaked.”
“Wind broke my umbrella.” He shivers. “God, it's freezing in here.”
“It's 75 degrees Fahrenheit.” She frowns. “I'll give you a robe, and I'll stick all your stuff in the dryer or something. Go shower to warm up.”
He nods as she hastily attempts to find her unused spa robe and tells him to change in the bathtub. She hands him a trash bag.
The weatherman promised clear, sunny skies and weather in the early 50s, unusual for January, but great weather nonetheless. When Kandi woke up, the clouds loomed with scattered thunderstorms and heavy rain. She closes the blinds as the thunder starts up again. She sticks the cake back into the box and slips it into the refrigerator. She puts the candles back into a kitchen drawer.
Logan comes out of the bathroom with the trash bag sagging. Kandi opens the closet and dumps the sopping mass into the washing machine and pours some Tide, setting it on “cold wash”. “I think it's already been through that,” he says.
“It could use some soap.”
“Sorry about your birthday.” He looks at the hardwood floor. “I bought some flowers, but my umbrella broke, and they were all beaten up from the hard rain.” He points to a neatly-wrapped, damp box with a purple bow. “I'm glad your present made it, at least.”
“You really shouldn't have.”
“Every girl should get something special for her birthday.” He pauses. “Where's your cake?”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you mean 'what do you mean'?”
She leans against the closet. “I...um, I put it away.”
“Why?”
“Because we're not having a party.”
Logan laughs. “That's a lame excuse.”
“A lame excuse for what?”
“For not celebrating your birthday.”
Kandi frowns. “I am celebrating my birthday.”
“How? By boring yourself?” Logan opens the refrigerator and pulls out the cake. Kandi grabs the candles, Logan searching for the lighter. They light them together, and he takes in a deep breath:
“Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday, dear Kandi
Happy birthday to you.”
She blows out the candles, smiling. Kandi cuts the cake very slowly, trying to make it as even as possible. Logan pushes his soggy present closer to her. “Open it.”
She unravels the peeling wrapping paper and opens the box to find a smaller turquoise one with a neat white bow. Kandi looks at Logan. “This is--”
“Open it.”
She pulls the ribbon apart and lifts the lid, pulling out the necklace. On the silver chain is a black stiletto with a turquoise back. “It doesn't say 'I love you' or anything – I mean, not that I don't love you, but..”
She presses her lips onto his.
“I...I just thought it would be lame,” Logan finishes, his face crimson. He reaches for her hand. “Happy birthday.”
“...Thanks.”