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“Vera, I have a question.”
“A question?”
“A question.”
-
Edgar rushed the perfumer into his bedroom, which for a change had been cleaned, and sat her down on the neatly-made bed.
“What do you want?” The French woman asked, crossing her legs as she glared at the painter.
Edgar stayed stood up.
“Vera, I have a question.”
“A question?”
“A question.”
Vera stayed quiet for a moment.
“What question?”
“You aren’t to tell anyone.” The painter sat by his window as he lit a cigarette. He dragged his chair to face the perfumer at a diagonal.
“Understood, what’s your question?” Vera rolled her eyes.
“Have you ever. . . ” Edgar trailed off.
“Have I ever?”
“Liked anyone?” Edgar glanced at Vera.
“Everyone knows that you’re a bitch,” The woman snickered, “Did you decide to try making friends?”
“Have you ever loved anyone?” Edgar corrected himself.
Vera gave the artist a puzzled look. She glanced at the closed door, then back at Edgar.
“Who?”
“Why should I tell you?” Edgar retorted, smirking. He handed Vera the lit cigarette.
“You’re the one who wanted to ask me something in the first place.” She said, handing back the cigarette to the man.
Edgar chuckled dryly.
“I won’t tell anyo-”
“It’s Luca.” Edgar spoke at a hush, but Vera heard him.
“Who?” She asked.
“I said it’s-”
“No, I heard you.” Vera answered, “I wasn’t sure if I had misheard you.”
“Well, you didn’t.” The artist retorted.
A moment of silence passed between the two, neither speaking as cigarette smoke filled the room. Edgar threw the burnt cigarette butt out of the open window. He sat beside the perfumer.
“Is that why you haven’t been eating recently?” Vera sniggered, hiding her face with the back of her hand.
“You noticed?”
“You make it very obvious,” The young woman replied, “Frederick was asking me about it the other day.”
Edgar opened his mouth to speak, but got interrupted by the perfumer.
“I think that everyone has noticed by now. Nobody cares, though.” Vera shrugged. “That’s a good thing, though, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Edgar replied, “I-”
“What is it you like about him?” Vera interrupted, “I always thought he was-”
“Ugly?”
“Different.”
Vera hummed in acknowledgement.
“He’s changed, but. . . I think I’ve always loved him.”
“You never told me that, Edgar.” Vera looked at him.
“I knew him many years ago, for many years.” Edgar looked away, “He’s always been beautiful, he looks angelic.”
“I don’t care what you have to say to me about him.” Vera rolled her eyes, “Did you invite me here just to ask me to be sure if you love him?”
Edgar pondered for a minute.
“Yes.”
The two stayed silent for another minute. Edgar lit a second cigarette, handing it to the brunette woman.
“Do you have any pills?”