Julian was already on his feet, rising from the couch.
"Babe!"
He looked like a kid eager to show off a gold star, holding up the bag of soup dumplings and offering them to me.
"Still hot."
I used to always say I loved those soup dumplings. Loved that Julian would get up before dawn and stand in line to buy them for me.
Later, whenever I mentioned the soup dumplings, all I got was indifference.
"Maya."
"Time is money. You think I have the luxury of standing in some endless line just to buy you dumplings?"
Now here they were again, right in front of me. But somehow, they didn't look all that appetizing anymore.
"Julian."
I ignored his eagerness, walked past him, and sat down on the couch. The old cushions groaned beneath me. Nothing like Lucille's furniture.
"Do you remember this couch?"
I looked at Julian.
"You and I went to the flea market together. Spent two whole days hunting before we finally found it."
"We couldn't bring ourselves to pay for delivery," I said, as though recounting something utterly mundane. "So you borrowed a hand cart, and I walked alongside you holding the armrest, and together we hauled it home in hundred-degree heat. Took us two and a half hours."