Page 66 of You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty

“Can I hold you?” Alim was asking, and Feyi managed to nod through her sobs. Alim climbed over the pillows and sat behind her, pulling her back flush against his chest, wrapping his arms around her ribs and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Breathe with me,” he said, and Feyi followed along as he coached her through the inhales and exhales.

She leaned into his body and the way it curved around her, like a whole shield, a bracing. When her chest was steady again, Alim didn’t let her go. Instead, he began to tell her stories about Marisol, about the nightmares he’d had the first couple of years, of drowning, of not drowning, of saving her and then being wrong. He told her about how the years after that dulled some things and sharpened others. The ways his memory betrayed him, the ways it saved him. When there was a lull in his storytelling, Feyi told him about Jonah. About the last look he’d given her as the car was spinning out of control, like he knew what was about to happen, the way he’d reached for her hand before the impact stole their consciousness.

Feyi and Alim sat like that for a long time, swapping memories of their lost loves, until the night ran out of darkness and fell into morning.

Chapter Nineteen

The next time Feyi went into town, it was to have lunch with Pooja Chatterjee and sort out the details of the commission. Alim dropped her off downtown at the restaurant Pooja had picked, not far from the museum. “Make sure you order the sea bass,” he said. “Lyle is one of the best seafood chefs I know.”

Feyi leaned through the window for a goodbye kiss. “I will,” she said. “Text you when I’m done?”

“Sounds good. I’m going to drop by Phillip’s house and say hello.”

“Oof.” She stood back on the sidewalk. “Have y’all talked since —?”

“Yes, yes. He called me once he realized what had happened. Was so full of apologies.” Alim chuckled dryly and shook his head. “He doesn’t quite know how to look Nasir in the face now.”

“Well, yeah. That sounds awkward as fuck.”

“It’ll be fine. I have a nice rum from Antigua for him.” Alim put on his sunglasses and flashed her a smile. “See you soon, sweetness.”

Feyi waved as he pulled away, then went into the restaurant. Pooja was impossible to miss—she was flirting loudly with all the staff, who were clustered around her table, but broke off as soon as she saw Feyi.

“Well, ladies, so sorry to end this, but my lovely date is here.”

Feyi raised an eyebrow as Pooja stood to exchange air-kisses with her. “What would your husband think of that?”

“He’d probably be jealous I didn’t invite him along,” Pooja said blithely, sitting back down and gesturing to a server to pour Feyi some wine. “But then again, Sanjeet is amused by my diligence in seeking out new artists.”

“That’s a shame.” Feyi sat down and unfolded her napkin, draping it on her lap.

“Not at all! I get to constantly prove that my taste is superior.” Pooja leaned in and mock whispered. “I rather think he’s into it, to be honest. He likes when I remind him how much smarter than him I am.”

Feyi laughed and accepted the menu the waiter was handing her. “Alim recommended the sea bass,” she said, as she read through it. “What would you suggest?”

“Oh, I’m not about to disagree with Alim Blake.” Pooja put down her menu and took a sip of her wine. “That’s insider information that I will gratefully accept.”

They made small talk as they put in their orders, trying out warm pieces of the freshly baked bread the restaurant made, paired with a spicy olive oil and an aged balsamic. It wasn’t until they were halfway through their sea bass that Pooja brought up the commission.

“Administrative logistics bore me to tears, but my accountant wanted me to tell you the first half of the payment should be in your account shortly.” Her eyes took on a sharp gleam. “I looked up more of your earlier work, Ms. Adekola. You have quite the range.”

“Thank you.” Feyi laid her fork down next to her plate. “May I be blunt with you, Mrs. Chatterjee?”

Pooja looked positively delighted at the concept. “Yes, of course!”

“You’ve gone to quite some trouble to secure this commission from me, and I guess I’m just wondering—why? What is it about my work that resonates with you? I just—I get the feeling that you’re looking for more than just a piece to collect as an investment.”

“Ah.” Pooja dabbed at her lips delicately with her napkin, then sighed as she laid it back down. When she looked up, Feyi was surprised to see that her face had gone somber; it seemed so at odds with the irrepressibly cheerful woman she’d observed so far. Pooja was silent for a few moments, gathering her words, then she squared her shoulders and smiled directly at Feyi. “Sanjeet and I once had a daughter. Keya. We were living in T&T then. She was very young when she passed away from leukemia and … I can still feel the shape of the hole that is left in my heart, how sharp the edges are. We spread her ashes in Tobago.”

“I’m so sorry,” Feyi said, knowing how useless the words were as she offered them. “I had no idea.”

Pooja dismissed it with a wave of her jeweled hand. “There is no need,” she said. “When I saw your work, I looked you up before I had Rebecca introduce us, and I realized that you understood, Ms. Adekola. You understood that … madness. The way it never really leaves you, even if you learn how to hide it from everyone else. I want a piece of that, in whatever form it comes to you. I believe in that, perhaps more than I believe in a lot of other things in this world.”

Feyi nodded slowly. Madness was exactly right. “Okay,” she said. “Do you have a preference as to size?”

Pooja shrugged a silken shoulder. “Nothing too small. I like things to take up space.” She gave Feyi a dazzling smile, the somber look in her eyes dissolving into light. “I try my best to live by that, in fact.”