Page 16 of Only Lovers in the Building

Unemployment was no cure for the Sunday scaries. A week into her summer sabbatical, Lily was still overwhelmed with dread

about all the things she wouldn’t be doing come Monday. No waking up with purpose, no commuting, no coffee on the go. It didn’t

help that Ben had to spend the day grading papers and could not meet with her. By midmorning, her anxiety had reached its

peak. She was grateful when Noah called to check in on her. On Sundays, he didn’t indulge in mental breakdowns. He had back-to-back

appointments for all his maintenance work: hair, nails, brows. “Do you have a local spot?” he asked. “If not, I can take you

to mine.”

“How would I have a spot?” she asked. “I just got here.”

“When I show up in a new city, I ask for the best day spas, wine bars, gay bars. I’m guessing you just ask for the nearest

bookstore.”

“Good guess,” Lily said. “Where is the closest bookstore?”

“On Lincoln.”

“Thanks. I’ll check it out.”

“Since we’re on the topic of books—”

“A topic you seem to like.”

“I finished yours.”

“I didn’t write it, but go on. What did you think?”

“ The Sweetest Lie is a deceiving title. You didn’t tell me it’s basically soft core—”

“It’s not!” Lily interrupted. “It’s explicit, but we’re all adults.”

“It’s definitely not for kids!” he said cheerily. “About the spa, are you coming or not?”

Her skin was fried. She needed a facial. “I’m in!”

Located in a boutique hotel with a side door reserved for non-guests , the lovely day spa was officially Lily’s local spot. She and Noah reclined in the Relaxation Suite between various treatments,

sipped green tea, and snacked on fruits and nuts. Noah gave her a full update. He told her about the latest watch he’d sold,

the new shoes he’d bought, and the guy he’d ghosted. “How about you, little Lily?” he asked. “How are things moving along

with Ben?”

“We’re friends. That’s good enough,” she said. “My life is too complicated as it is.”

“You’re the only new friend I plan on making this year,” he said dryly. “Everyone else better come with some benefits.”

They parted ways in the early afternoon. Noah gave her directions to the bookstore and strode off with a jaunty wave. Lily

took her time, stopping at the stalls of a farmers market where she picked up an assortment of artisanal soap. Next she perused

the shops on Lincoln Road, reminding herself every few blocks that, with no immediate source of income, she couldn’t afford

to splurge. Eventually she found the bookstore. It was a glossy tourist trap filled with travel books, city guides, and novels

of various genres with Miami in the title. Even so, she found what she was looking for: the fancy leatherbound journals all bookstores were required to

carry. No more posting her embarrassing thoughts online. Journaling was the way to go. She made her purchase and was on her

way out when someone tapped her shoulder.

“I’m not surprised you found your way here.”

Ben’s warm voice filled her ear. Lily closed her eyes to savor it, before swiveling around to face him as if it cost her nothing.

He looked like he always looked, that is, a little rumpled in an untucked button-up shirt that would have looked fantastic

if ironed. The look was slightly elevated by a smart pair of rimless eyeglasses. The man was a dream.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Did you misplace your Michelin Guide or map of the Florida Keys?”

“I told you. I’m grading papers,” he answered.

“Here?” She looked around. “Where?”

“Come. I’ll show you.”

Ben extended an ink-stained hand, which she readily accepted. He led her through the store and up a flight of stairs to what

looked like a coffee bar. However, the walls were lined with shelves of clothbound classics and weathered paperbacks. Farther

back were crates of vinyl records and a whole section devoted to vintage magazines.

Lily clutched his hand and brought it to her thumping heart. “What is this place?”

“A lounge, a bar, a used bookshop.”

“Oh my God!” She pointed to the stack of classic romance novels. “Why isn’t any of this stuff on the ground floor?”

“We like it like this.”

She imagined so. The lounge had a private-club vibe where small groups gathered to talk over Latin jazz. Ceiling fans rotated

overhead, and tall windows let in fractured light through hurricane shutters. It was marvelous.

Ben showed her to his table. He had a corner booth to himself. “Most Sundays, you’ll find me here.”

“If you were stationed up here, how did you know I was downstairs?” she asked.

“I didn’t,” he said. “It’s just luck that I went down to grab this.” He held up a highlighter. “The manager is a friend. He lets me borrow office supplies. What do you have there?” Ben pointed to the paper bags still clutched in her hand.

She opened one and pulled out a chunky yellow bar. “Handmade soap,” she said. “This one has lemon, turmeric, and beeswax.”

He took it from her and brought it to his nose. “Nice. You better smell like this every day.”

Lily laughed. She pulled out a journal from the other bag. “I got this downstairs. Thought I’d try journaling instead of posting

random thoughts online.”

“You should start writing,” he said.

“Write what?”

“Romance. You know the genre like the back of your hand.”

Lily had considered it, way back when. Ultimately, she’d rejected the idea. “It’s my escape. I don’t want to monetize it.”

“What about your thoughts on the genre? You could monetize that. It’s called literary criticism.”

“I do that for free on BookTap.”

“I mean an exploration of the themes—”

“I know what you mean, Professor.”

“Think about it. You have a distinctive voice, an audience, and subject matter expertise. Men have gone to war over far less.”

“Well,” Lily said, “when you put it like that.”

“So much about writing is having a unique point of view.”

Was the translator looking into writing original work? Lily wondered.

“What are you working on?” she asked.

“It’s unclear for the moment, but I’ve got to put that grant money to use. It’s all anyone asks me about.”

Lily heard the hum of anxiety in his voice. Was this something he was struggling with?

“Aren’t you free to do whatever? Isn’t that how it works?”

From what she’d read, the grant was awarded with no strings attached. He could pay off student debt, travel, or use it as a down payment on a house.

“Ideally, I’d put it toward something meaningful,” he said. “The only problem is I’m fresh out of ideas.”

“I think the best way to tackle a problem is to avoid it all together!” Lily declared.

“It’s one way.”

Ben slipped off his glasses and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, as if her suggestion had given him a headache.

“You’ll figure it out,” she said softly. “You’re too smart not to.”

“Thank you,” he said. “What can I get you from the bar?”

Lily eyed his laptop, pile of notebooks, assortment of pens, and the highlighter he’d just retrieved from downstairs. “I should

go. You’re working.”

“I was, but now I get to spend time with you.”

He tossed out words like this as if they didn’t cause mini earthquakes deep inside her, leaving large cracks in the barren

landscape of her soul.

“Okay. I guess,” she said. “What’s good here?”

“Most people like the sangria. The lemon cake is popular, too. What would you like to try?”

“C. All of the above.”

“I’ll be right back.”

When he returned with cake and beverages, she asked, “How did you get your start in such a niche field?”

Lily was genuinely curious. Who dreamed of becoming a literary translator? What rare breed was he?

“I read a novel by a Colombian author. I was just a kid, and so fucking grateful someone had taken the time to translate it

into English. I would’ve burned a fuse had I tried to read a five-hundred-page novel in the original Spanish.”

“You once said you liked to translate things for your grandmother.”

He stared at her, connecting dots. “The interview with Lesly Kennedy,” he said. “I don’t think I mentioned it any other time.”

“Yes, for the World Tribune .”

“I’m impressed. You did a deep dive, Lily. I hope you remembered to come up for air.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve made it my life’s mission to find out who you really are.”

“This is who I really am,” he said.

By that, he meant this bookshop, his books, his collection of pens, his ink-stained hands, his rumpled shirt, rimless glasses,

and beer—he hadn’t gone for the sangria. If this was who he was, she liked him very much.

Ben shut his laptop and pushed it away. “I’ll take a chance and ask again. What happened with your job?”

“If I tell you, I’ll lose all mystery.”

“That’s not possible.”

He touched her cheek, ostensibly to wipe away a crumb. Lily was on to him. His hands were always reaching for her, and she

was forever turning to him, heart eager, full of longing.

“Want to pick up copies of Spring Fever on the way out?” he offered.

“Here?”

“There’s a romance section downstairs, except it’s practically hidden from view. You might’ve missed it.”

“Ugh! I hate when they do that!” Lily cried in frustration.

“I know the owner. I’ll talk to him.”

They did not leave the bookstore until closing time.

With their new book selection tucked in Ben’s backpack, they walked home.

The lively promenade crammed with tourists gave way to quiet residential neighborhoods, streets lined with apartment buildings that flaunted their midtwentieth-century heritage.

Ben told her about growing up in Miami Beach.

“It’s not as glamorous as it sounds,” he assured her.

His family lived in a cramped duplex, his high school was run-down.

He and his friends spent their time biking, skating, and prowling the beaches.

Spring breaks were golden. All of Miami was flooded with college girls ready to party.

Lily poked him in the ribs. “Fuckboy! How many hearts did you break?”

“They never stuck around long enough for that,” he said. “I was a story they could tell their friends back home.”

Wait. Had he lumped her in with those girls? She’d announced the exact date of her departure, had even made a joke of it.

I’ll be long gone before Labor Day. There’s nothing like autumn in New York. What was the rush? Having lived her entire life in the Northeast, she could use a change of scenery. Besides, if you’ve seen one maple tree turn

colors, you’ve seen them all.

“How about you?” he asked. “Where did you grow up?”

“Long Island,” she replied. “It was an ordinary childhood until my father became a judge and local celebrity.”

Lily divided her childhood, distinguishing from the time before her father won a seat on the county court and the following

years. Until then, he was an assistant public defender. They’d lived a quiet life. Winning that election boosted his ego.

He set his sights higher and higher. He expected Lily and her older brother Patrick to do the same. They’d lived up to his

expectations. Patrick had gone into medicine, and Lily had followed in their father’s footsteps, but only so far.

“Your dad is reading Crime and Punishment , by the way.”

“Is he?”

“No. He’s reading The Warren Buffett Way .”

“Again?”

They’d made it back to The Icon. The building was quiet this Sunday night. Most of the apartment windows reflected the blue

light of television screens.

Inside, they rode up to their floor. Ben walked her to her door and waited for her to find her key. Lily opened her bag and

searched and searched and searched.

“What’s the matter? Can’t find your keys?” Ben asked.

“No. I hope I didn’t leave them behind.”

“Let’s check.”

He pulled out his phone and placed a call to someone named Randy. “Hey! Did I leave anything behind? Keys and a bag of soap?

Thanks, man.”

Lily covered her eyes with her hands. “The soap, too!”

“Sorry,” Ben said. “He’s left them at the register. I’ll pick them up in the morning.”

Lily grabbed her doorknob and rattled it. What would she do until then? “Do you think Dr. Jake would be willing to bring me

a spare?”

“It’s past eight on a Sunday night, and he’s got two kids.”

Lily let out a sigh. “Maybe we could drive over?”

Ben gave her a look, as if he were waiting for her to see reason.

“What?” she demanded.

“I have to take you in,” he said. “It’s the neighborly thing to do.”

She moved away from him, but there was nowhere to go. “That won’t be necessary.”

“I can’t have you sleeping out in the hall, Lily.”

She rattled the doorknob again, harder this time. “It won’t come to that!”

“I’ll feed you and give you a warm place to sleep,” he whispered as if speaking to a petrified cat. “And I’ll be on my best

behavior.”

That only meant she’d have to be on her best behavior, too. How was that fun?

“Would you be more comfortable at Noah’s or Kylie’s?” he asked.

“I’d be more comfortable with you,” she admitted.

“I would hope so.” Ben found his keys with no problem and unlocked his door. “Welcome, neighbor. Mi casa es su casa .”

Lily pushed past him. “Please, no clichés! I won’t last the night.”