The Prince and the Plant Whisperer

Evening's End

[~Posted 8/10/21]

Kai felt a bit dazed by the candlelight and everything that had happened. Had it only, really been a day? A DAY? She'd met Lukas at 7AM that same morning? How epic these past 14 hours had been! It was like a year had passed.

When the waiter came to clear their plates and present the bill, Kai tried to pay.

But Lukas grabbed her hand and gently pushed it aside, like the bill was nothing.

She was so astonished by his gesture. It felt as though they were going through strange rituals—rituals she'd only heard vaguely about other people doing.

He's paying for me! she thought. But he said he was in debt! Meanwhile, I have a job, even if it's got a kinda pathetic hourly rate. At least, when I check my account balance, it isn't a big red negative number! I should be looking out for him!

"Can I ask you a question?" she said, as they stood up. He held her coat out for her, which no one, no one, had ever done. But he acted like it was nothing. Again, she had the irrational worry: He's secretly a Casanova. He's done this a million times, with a million girls. But no, he'd said it wasn't the case. And she believed him.

"What's your question?" he asked.

"Will you please let me split the check?"

"Ah, that—" he said. "No. I won't let you."

And he was silent for a moment. As they walked to the front door of the restaurant, she felt the tips of his fingers on the small of her back. It was like her back had been in constant contact with him, all day. If he kept up with the ticklish, buzzing electric current, her back was really going to give out. She imagined being bedridden with a brace.

Looking down, she watched her beat-up lace-up sneakers, going across the black-and-white French subway tile of the floor. And his wide stride beside her; his large feet, in impeccable suede and white-leather sneakers.

She didn't quite understand what he meant by 'debt.' His clothes always seemed so luxuriant. They smelled like lush forest. Expensive scents. Their materials were sturdy, and well-made; the leather patches on his jacket—the clean suede detailing on his shoes. Well-tailored, too.

Still, that afternoon of the psych experiment, he'd told her he was paying off debt.

As he waved by to Carlo, she tugged at his coat sleeve. "I have a job. I'm not in debt," she said.

He just laughed. They were outside in the cool air of the parking lot now. "That day? When I said debt? It's a different kind of debt," he said. "A debt I'm not being allowed to get rid of," he said. "Even if I have the resources to do it."

His voice wasn't guarded. She sensed that he would talk about it, if she really wanted him to. But it seemed like he himself preferred silence, in the moment.

 Then she smiled to herself.

"What?" he asked. "Why are you smiling?"

"You said you had 'resources'..." she said. "That's what rich people say when they're talking about their money." It felt wild, suddenly, to talk with Lukas about money so directly. But she really did feel close enough to tease him. Maybe he was... hers. Almost.

She decided to make fun of herself too, to even things out:

"Poor folks like me," she said, "We just say that we have 'cash'."

And he smiled, too.

Once they got driving in the car, though, he looked melancholy.

"Is something wrong?" she asked him.