Magnolia

She knew the moment she stepped into the not-quite-dingy apartment that it was the one. It wasn’t perfect, by any means, but it had good bones as they say. No hint was given to the realtor as he guided her through the dusty space; she kept her face neutral and serious.  

Four weeks later, the papers were signed and the keys handed over. Finally, she could begin.  

Within a week she had a crew hired and following the plans she had carefully drafted over the last month. One thing not lacking was vision. She knew exactly what she wanted, and this time she had the resources to make it happen. In her line of work, thoroughness was paramount. For this particular new acquisition and remodel, timing and secrecy were priorities. So, within 10 days, the crews were gone as she did her reevaluation.  

She opened the door keyed to her 8-digit numeric code which rotated every 24 hours to a pattern she was particularly proud of creating. As she closed the front door, the series of locks automatically clicked into place as the lights came up in the entryway. From here she looked straight into the space between the living area and the kitchen, a nice open floorplan – both conveniently en vogue right now and safer, allowing a full view of all the corners, mostly. To her left lay a high table for keys and mail next to hooks on the wall for coats, hats, and bags. A bin for umbrellas and other accoutrements sat under the table. If she pressed her back up against the wall to her right, the nook was just big enough for her to hide from sight, but not to conceal anyone larger. The ideal entryway to invite people in, leaving a space for them to remove outside clothing before fully entering the space. She quickly took in the deep red of the wood paneling, a look she never had much taste for, aesthetically, yet marveled at the two hidden compartments even her trained eye only saw because she knew of their existence. One for stashing valuables quickly, and one for weapons. Each detail met her approval, to her surprise, so, releasing a breath, she took the three steps to the threshold of the main living area.  

From this vantage point, going left to right, she could see a door to the bathroom, couches arranged around a beautifully carved coffee table, a pass-through shelf, an island, the kitchen, and finally, a door to the bedroom. The wall directly across from her was almost completely windows, ceiling to chair-rail height. She stood in the doorway for a moment, assessing. A sideways glance at the trim revealed nothing, yet a hand on the woodwork exposed it to not be wood at all, but a hidden, steel pocket door she hoped she’d never have to use. There were twin plants hanging in the far corners up against the glass windows, before stopping by today, she already checked the feed from the hidden cameras in each. Together they held 6 lenses and left only one blind spot, the nook in the entryway. They were powered by solar panels disguised as leaves of the plants, one of her more genius ideas. She held a particular sense of pride when solutions came from natural processes to begin with, and photosynthesis had always amazed her. For a moment she doubted herself for leaving the blind spot, but she reminded herself that it’s always good to have a plan B.  

When she at last stepped over the threshold into the heart of the apartment, she smiled at the small creak in the floor. Despite not being able to take credit for this particular innovation, she wasn’t filled with envy, but admiration. Her contractor, sworn to silence about this job – and more than fairly compensated, suggested a sound to signal all is good and lack of sound to signal an alarm. This particular alarm being the lack of a creaky wooden floor. The floor would creak for the first person in the apartment, but not for the second, she would always know when she is coming back to an empty apartment or not. She knew, even before putting it to use, that this invention would go in each of her other flats. A humbling reminder that while she works alone, to remember the intelligence and creativity of others.  

She took her time reviewing each hidden compartment, each unusual detail of this new acquisition, and when she was satisfied, nearly 2 hours later, she grabbed a small leather pouch out of the safe by the door and left.  

It took her exactly 30 seconds in a relaxed walk to make it from her door, down the stairs, to the external door of the building. As she stepped out onto the sidewalk, she paused. Took a moment to look both ways, assessing the few pedestrians wandering the neighborhood. A pair of middle-aged women caught her attention but she kept scanning to not draw attention to herself. She knew she should be getting back home, but there was something intriguing about this couple.  

She followed them at a safe distance for about four blocks before they entered a café she hadn’t seen before. She was only a few blocks from home, but she never came this way, it was too visible and not quite the long way home, but not the most direct route either. From a mirror across the street, she watched the women laugh from their table by the window and she remembered Lily. It had been so long. And she knew better than to trust her own memory at this point, but she was already on this path, so she let her mind go.  

She found herself at the base of a tree on the edge of a golden field. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The tang of dirt almost dry from the rain, the crisp air not polluted by smog, and a hint of the lavender field down the road. The lavender always stood out to her, even as she sat under the champagne-perfumed magnolia tree. With each breath, she felt her body relax into the firm bark at her back, as she leaned her head into the tree, she slowly opened her eyes.  

“Welcome back,” Lily said with a smile from a branch just above her head, “Where were you this time?” 

She just closed her eyes and smiled again.  

“Fine, don’t tell me. I can read it all on your face anyway.” Lily started to adjust her face to mimic the affectations of her friend before delving into: “It’s dusk, you’re walking down a street lined by buildings taller than any in this whole state but you don’t need to look up, you reach out your hand and feel the cold brick covered in decades of paint. You keep walking as street lights come to life around you. The city takes its first breath, and like a birth, the stillness of a moment before bursts into life. You’re surrounded by strangers, bumping and jostling each other – ugh, I don’t get the appeal – you hear the call and response of car horns and road rage echoed on every corner, yet the look on your face never changes. Not quite happy, but content. This is what you love, with all the grime, with the choking air, with the anger and anxiety, with the crowded streets, apartments, restaurants, with the lack of open fields, open sky. This is what you dream of.” Lily stares at her, raising her eyebrows, “Right?” 

“You know me so well.” She responds sarcastically as she grabs a handful of dirt near her hip to toss at Lily’s face before protecting her head with her arms from the mess that comes raining back down on her. With a slight smile, “But yes. You’re right. This is a dream I’ve always had, it’s not one I chose. Sometimes there are just things that call you to, the city is like that for me. I choose to love the lavender fields, I choose to love you, but the city, it chose me. I can’t explain it. I need to be there, I need to live it, I want to find my soul.” 

“I know.” Lily says quietly as she gently turns her friends head with her hand. They look into each other's eyes for a moment before her friend turns away. “I can’t convince you to stay.” Lily finally says, more of a statement than a question.  

She snapped out of the memory as a passerby bumped her shoulder and she had to press her gloved hands against the glass to prevent her head from colliding with it. She didn’t often allow herself to remember Lily, somewhere deep inside her, she knew it was a mistake to leave her, but she can’t let herself think like that. There is no room for regret in her life, so she just pushes it down. Usually.

Without thinking she crossed the street and entered the café.  

The little copper bell on the door signaled to all the patrons that Judas has returned. She imagined every eye turning to her in a glare, and all of them are Lily’s. Their lips curled back into threatening smiles to reveal fangs. The hurt in their eyes can’t be masked by the threat of their power. She snapped back to herself as if she woke up to discover her body being controlled by another, guiding her into this place she would never enter of her own accord. She kept her movements smooth and controlled as she chose a table in the corner with a view of the pair of women she followed here. As she continued to discreetly observe them, she realized the younger of the two shares mannerisms with Lily. Although her physical characteristics are harsher than Lily’s ever were, she wonders if the city might have turned Lily into this woman. Suddenly, she realized she’d taken way too long getting home. She quickly stood, passed by the table and dared to share a glace with the woman who guided her down this inner path she’s been avoiding for decades, only to have her stand up with a start as tears began forming in her eyes. She froze, unable to look away. “My god.” It’s barely audible on her lips.  

“Ali?” The woman says as her breath catches.  

No, it can’t be. She thinks. How? Her mind races to everything she heard about home and Lily since she left. She was such a fool for running and letting her past stay hidden.  

“Is it you?” the woman asks, as she begs with her eyes for theirs to meet.  

Ali takes a deep breath, remembering the red dust of the dirt road she travelled a hundred times with Lily. She always chose the lavender field side, and Lily the grain. The smells swirling together as they walked to their favorite magnolia tree. Ali would watch Lily hop up to the lowest branch before she sat with her back against the trunk. Lily would gently pick the champagne-scented flowers as the aroma rained down on Ali, sweetly blending with the purple, woodsy smell of the lavender. One more breath as she opened her eyes to see a single tear sliding down Lily’s face.  

“I can read it all on your face.” Lily says as her body relaxes and she pulls Ali into a hug they haven’t shared in a lifetime.