La Vie en Rose {Life in Pink} (40 page)

Her tears fell in silence as he dried and dressed her like a broken doll. She frowned when he massaged something slimy into her arms. “What is that?”

“Coconut oil.”

She sniffled. Didn’t he know she was on the verge of mental collapse? “Are you making me into a daiquiri?”

Wagging his brows, he shot her a cocky grin. “I could drink you up, but you’re not ready for my parasol yet.”

She giggled and the pain in her heart eased. “Why am I getting a coconut rub down?”

“It’s good for your skin. I threw all your lotions away.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“They’re all filled with bullshit like sodium laurel sulfate, parabens, formaldehyde, and crap that’s bad for you.”

“Ew, formaldehyde? Like, what they use to embalm dead people?”

“Yup.” He pushed up her pajama pants and rubbed down her leg.

“That’s disgusting.”

He gave a dry laugh. “The one with the most crap in it had a pink ribbon on the label.
That’s
disgusting.”

She continued to frown as he greased her up like a Thanksgiving turkey. When had he become so educated on this stuff? She didn’t even know what a laurel sulf-whatever was. She supposed he had a lot of free time watching her sleep over the past one hundred days. He might have skimmed an article or two.

The more she thought about the lotion with the pink ribbon—she knew exactly which one he was talking about, because she picked it up right before she found the lump—the more pissed off she became. “That should be illegal.”

“Yeah, it should.” He dried his hands on a towel. “Good as new.”

Hardly.
She smiled. “Thank you. I smell like the beach.”

Pampered and clean, he helped her lurch back to the couch where he freshened the pillows and blankets and they settled in for a movie marathon. She didn’t make it through the opening credits.

****

“I
can’t believe this weather,” Emma announced, breathing in the sunshine as it warmed her shoulders through her sweatshirt. Reclined in a beach chair on the roof, she worked on upping her vitamin D.

Rarity grinned as she mixed together a bin of horseshit, which was infringing on the fresh air. “I’m so glad to see this winter end.”

The breeze tickled her nose as the unpleasant aroma wafted over to her. “Now, tell me again, why are you playing in poo?”

“Not just poo. Good, certified organic poo I had shipped from a farm in Pennsylvania. I’m going to mix it with compost and use it to start our garden. Next year we’ll use our own compost. I’m collecting it over there in that bin.”

Again, the gaps in Emma’s memory were brought to her attention. “You’re going to grow food in the poo and garbage?”

“It’s the best fertilizer there is. Would you rather buy food that was treated with carcinogenic pesticides and herbicides? This stuff’s as clean as it gets.”

Emma laughed. “Poop?”

“Organic poop,” Rarity corrected. “What good’s a vegetable if it’s been treated with chemicals that make us sick. Everything we grow will be clean and one hundred percent natural.”

“What are you talking about?” Vegetables were good. They regenerated cells. Doody was dirty.

“Trust me. I’ve read up on it. The things they’re putting on our produce is the same shit the government uses in chemical warfare. It’s disgusting and I refuse to give up my veggies, so I’m growing our own. Then we don’t have to worry.”

“That can’t be true.” The FDA would never let farmers get away with such a thing. And why wasn’t it on the news if their food was being poisoned?

Rarity snorted. “Don’t underestimate the power of greed. GMOs are making farmers tons of money. No one cares that they’re messing with the natural cycle of nature and possibly costing people their lives.”

Two months ago she’d never thought twice about a GMO. To be honest, she wasn’t sure if they were something she
should
be buying or
shouldn’t
. They lived in a world where technology was good, so genetically modifying an organism just sounded like a great advance in science.

“So GMOs are bad?”

“Depends who you talk to, but in my personal opinion, there’s nothing good about chemical agriculture.”

“What was wrong with regular vegetables? They didn’t always put stuff like that on them.”

“The chemicals keep the bugs away. More crops equal more money,” Rarity hissed, a look of disgust clear on her face. “Forget that they’re stripping the minerals out of our food, minerals our bodies need to survive. The term
cide
as in pesti
cide
, literally means
kill
. If it’s under our kitchen sink you wouldn’t drink it, right? Well, we’ve been ingesting those lethal toxins for years, toxins that have been linked to birth defects, nerve damage, and cancer, all by eating supposedly
healthy
foods.”

“Who’s letting them do that?”

“Most people don’t realize it’s being done. They think organic living is just some hay brained hippie thing, but it’s the only way to guarantee food hasn’t been tainted.”

Emma frowned as anger filled her. Not only was she among the ignorant population that wasn’t aware of this, she might have actually been affected by it. “All non-organic produce is chemically treated?” That couldn’t be right.

“Not all, but until they change the laws and make farmers label their produce with warnings, it’s anyone’s guess. Food’s supposed to be medicine, but they’ve turned it into poison. It’s sick—
literally
—which is why I’m growing our own.”

“I find that hard to believe. Wouldn’t the Food and Drug Administration be all over that?”

Rarity shrugged, sifting her gloved hands through the basin of soil and churning the muck. “I suppose it depends on where their interests lie. So long as the US government doesn’t require GMO treated foods to be labeled, we’ll never know which ones are safe and which are tainted. Plenty of other countries have laws in place.”

“So we have to buy organic?”

“Organic’s good—so long as it’s certified.
Natural
doesn’t mean shit.” 

What if the broccoli at dinner last night was poisoned?
Seconds anyone?

While her roommates had a grip on this troubling information, it was news to Emma. Somehow she felt responsible for their new attitudes toward proactive health, yet left out of the action. “I wanna help,” she announced from her chair.

“Sorry. You’re still too fragile to play in the mud.”

She scrunched her nose. “I don’t wanna play in the mud. Give me something else to do.”

Rarity stood and brushed her gloves down her overalls. “Okay, grab that box filled with toilet paper rolls. I’ll show you how to cut and fold them so we can plant seeds in them. They’re biodegradable.”

For the next hour they sat on the roof in the warm pre-spring sun and worked. Emma folded hundreds of toilet paper rolls into mini cups and Rarity hammered and sawed planks of cedar into raised vegetable beds. It was incredibly cathartic.

“Emma?”

She turned and grinned as Riley stepped onto the roof. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

He bent and kissed her. “Morning.” Squinting at his sister he chuckled. “You’re filthy.”

Rarity shrugged and continued sawing. She looked so beautiful in her dusty overalls with a bandana wrapped around her head. “You’re so pretty, Rare.”

Her friend stilled and smiled at her. “Not half as pretty as you, toots.”

She wished that were true.

Riley held out a hand to her. “I’m going to take Marla for a walk. Come with me. The exercise will do you good.”

They thought they were slick, sneaking in little regimented walks here and there in between her coconut rub downs and organic shakes. Smirking at his head silhouetted against the sun, warmth filled her. His hair was growing back. “I love you.”

“Love you too. Come on. Marla’s pacing.”

Though she still wasn’t herself, she was feeling better than she had in months. Her tubes were gone and the incisions were healing nicely according to her surgeon.

She’d gotten her first injection in her expanders and other than random bouts of weakness that struck out of nowhere, she felt wonderful. Still, the minor set backs were buried by an overwhelming gratitude to be alive—something she hoped never faded.

“The sun will be setting soon, so I put your coat in the bag.”

So thoughtful.
She carefully laced her sneakers and covered her head—which got cold—with her monkey hat. Yes, it was now hers.

“Marla!” The dog came bounding out of Rarity’s bedroom the second she called and she gave her a bumpy cuddle.

“Watch she doesn’t get too rough,” Riley warned and she tried not to get frustrated with his concern. He was right. She was still recovering. He took the leash and tossed the bag over his shoulder. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” This felt semi-normal, like the things they used to do.

They walked for a long time and her legs were getting tired, but the beautiful day was easing into such a lovely dusk she didn’t want to go home just yet. As twilight approached, Riley stopped and handed her his jacket, which she gratefully accepted. It wasn’t spring just yet.

“Look,” he said, pointing as a young woman leisurely strummed a guitar over an empty case on the sidewalk. They walked closer as she crooned and played.

“I know this song,” Emma said, grinning as a trumpeter joined from several paces away, startling her.

“La Vie en Rose,” he said, as the girl hummed with the trumpet. He grinned. “Dance with me?”

She laughed and looked down at Marla, who was getting a good sniff of the woman’s guitar case. “What about Marla?”

He looked around and held up a finger. Walking to a nearby bench he said something to an older woman sitting alone and pointed back at Emma. Her face heated as the woman waved and took Marla’s leash. Riley returned. “We have a dog sitter.”

His hand caught hers and he pulled her close, his arm wrapping around her back as they swayed on the corner of Fifth Ave. Her heart leapt as the girl sung of angels and love songs bringing magic to ordinary life.

What a beautiful song. She’d always enjoyed the French version, but this was the first time she’d ever heard the lyrics in English. They fit. A love story in a world of pink. La Vie en Rose.

The song ended too soon and Emma wished the moment could have lasted forever. Riley nodded and dropped several dollars in the musician’s case. Then thanked her for playing and went to collect Marla.

The woman holding the leash smiled, her teeth white against her dark skin. “A rose for your love?” she passed him a long stem pink rose.

“For you,” he said, presenting her with the gift.

Like the song said, it was a magic spell he’d cast. Her cheeks stretched with a smile as she sniffed the rose. “Thank you.”

“Look.” He pointed, just beyond her shoulder and she turned.

The Empire State Building. “We still need to visit that. It’s on my list.”

“Let’s go now.”

She drew back. “We can’t. We have Marla.”

He waved away her words. “If anyone asks we’ll say she’s a service dog. She might as well be. Trust me, we’ll be fine. You’re wearing a monkey hat for crying out loud. No one’s going to stop us.”

He seemed determined so she followed, but knew in five minutes they were going to get thrown out of the Empire State Building. She tsked. And on her first visit.

As they entered the complex her eyes went wide. Glittering gold polished tile climbed the walls in an art deco masterpiece. It was like traveling back in time. Some people were dressed in jeans and some in suits. None were wearing monkey hats.

As Marla’s nails ticked along the shiny floor she became self-conscious. “Maybe we should leave,” she whispered.

“Relax.” He approached a counter and passed the man his credit card. “Two passes for the main deck. We have a service dog with us today.”

“Yes, sir.” The man swiped the card and passed two tickets to Riley. “Enjoy.”

He grinned and nudged her toward the bay of elevators where an usher waited. “Told ya.”

Even the elevators were luxurious, though crowded. When the doors closed she giggled and he glanced at her. “What?”

She smirked and whispered, “I wanna push all the buttons like Buddy the Elf.”

He chuckled as a man to her right gave a panicked look. “Please don’t.”

“Fine.” She sighed.

Marla paced uneasily in the cramped space. “She’s nervous.”

He patted the dog’s side and she settled. “Her ears probably feel the elevation. Do you feel it?”

“Sort of.”

“It’s gonna be a lot colder up here. You should button up.”

Good idea. She tightened her coat and returned her attention to the climbing numbers. “Takes a while to go up eighty-six floors.”

“It’ll be worth it. Almost there.”

They watched the numbers rise as the cart climbed. Finally it slowed and the doors opened. The passengers shuffled out and Marla seemed relieved to be out of the stuffy, traveling box. Emma nodded politely at the suited man positioned at the entrance of the observation deck.

“My ears feel the altitude now.”

“What?” he yelled and laughed. “Just kidding.”

She hadn’t expected it to be this crowded. Multiple people shuffled their way toward the elevators, but just as quickly more people arrived. She held onto his arm as they carefully maneuvered through the mob. “I feel like Meg Ryan.”

“Really? I was thinking King Kong.”

She laughed as the wind cut through her clothing.

“There’s an opening.” He pointed to a corner where a couple stepped away from the glass and strolled on. She followed him and the closer they got to the edge the more sensitive her feet got.

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked over the edge. “Wow.”

Riley stepped behind her, his front pressing to her back, his chin resting on her shoulder as he hunched around her. “Amazing, right?”

It was indescribable. “Definitely.”

His lips curled into a smile against her neck. “So you can check two things off your bucket list tonight.”

“Two?”

“Mmm-hmm.” His arms released her, taking Marla’s leash and he whispered, “Turn around.”