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“Start with me and I’ll start with you.”
It sounded so much easier in his mind.
As Raphael comes out of the cafe’s employee entrance, he realizes that those words echo in his head. They were so easy to say, and they’re not that hard to follow. It’s just the proposal of a burgeoning friendship, no different than “hey we should hang out sometime” or “here’s my number, we should talk soon!”
So what does Raphael have to fear? He’s big and strong and kind and has a good job and a fair amount of confidence. He’s rarely been afraid of anything. But Bernadetta is tiny, and weak and trembles at the sight of him. And he’s afraid that if he raises his voice a little too high, or moves a little too quickly, she’ll get scared and run off in the other direction.
He actually did both the last time he saw her and she looked super frightened, like she was going to shoot off in the other direction or faint right there on the front of the cafe. (Which, wouldn’t have been a good advertising practice).
Reeling himself back has always been a problem, but now it feels like a mission of life or death... Mainly because he wants to be around Bernadetta. There’s something about her that draws him closer; he likes her a lot.
He just doesn’t know how to show her, aside from neighbourly kindness. But that can only go so far.
He turns over his apron in his hands, glancing over the berry sauce smears and markings of chocolate batter and handprints of flour. A messy day had already given her kind gift a good workout. When Ingrid said it would need a wash to get the stains out, she had suggested asking the creator.
“She’d know what to do; she did pick the fabrics.” Ingrid said. “And you wouldn’t want to ruin the embroidery.”
(Raphael had seen it as an opportunity to see Bernadetta, and without thinking, realized he could. Now he’s pulling at the collar of shirt and wondering what to say to her.)
Will she cower behind the counter, her belongings all over the floor with her? Or will she be too absorbed into her dramas to even hear the bell when he comes in? Maybe she won’t even be there; maybe someone else will be on the clock tonight, or maybe she’ll have locked up early and gone home.
Some little part of him hopes that she didn’t do that. He wants to see her, but he doesn’t know how to approach her. After all, how does a massive bear approach a trembling rabbit?
After Raphael thanked her about a dozen times for the new apron, she’d scampered off to her own job. And as she ran off, Raphael realized that he wanted to talk to her again. At first it was a little want, but with time he realized that he desperately wanted to speak with her again, topic or reasons be damned. Even if they sat in the same room, not speaking to each other and doing their own things, he’d be happy.
But she’s so skittish and shy, and she even said she was afraid of him. But he can’t help but want to be her friend someday; and while he’s okay with being simply neighbours right now, he longs for just a bit more.
So here he is, his messy new apron in hand, and a head full of scattered thoughts as he walks to the Eagle’s Nest Arboretum. The sun is fading along the centuries-old buildings and new highrises. If he squints, he can see the old university on the top of the hill. He’s been there a few times, most recently to meet his friend, Ignatz or to pick up Maya from one of a dozen post-secondary fairs.
He wonders, for a split second, if Bernadetta is a university student too. She gives off the vibe of one; clumsy and scatterbrained, pulled in too many directions at once and oh-so tired. He bets she aces all her classes though; she radiates an intelligent aura.
But Raphael removes the thought from his head. A neighbour isn’t supposed to be nosy. And besides, if she went to the Garreg Mach, that’s her own business, not his. Though, maybe she went around the same time as he did. Maybe he even passed her once or twice in his short stint at the university? That would be pretty cool.
He rounds the corner to the flower shop and sees the lights shutting off. In the window, pulling the blinds down, is Bernadetta. She wears a pale purple apron, and there’s a pretty bow pulling some of her bangs back. He raises his hand to knock on the glass, but as he does, Bernadetta notices him and jumps back.
His heart stutters. Apologize! His mind yells at him.
Quickly, he raises his hands to wave her off. “Sorry! I’m sorry Bernadetta, I didn’t mean to scare you!” He says through the glass. Her eyes are wide as saucers; she looks like she’s about to keel over. The thought of Bernadetta having a heart attack makes an unpleasant home in Raphael’s mind.
She runs away, past the blinds and Raphael feels his heart tank. He stares into the flower shop for a moment longer, wondering if it was the loudness of his knock on the glass or how his voice when apologizing. His eyes rove over the plants inside, the big bag on the counter; Bernie’s own little world that he wants to be a part of. But looking through the glass, he knows he’d only ever be a spectator.
He decides to leave, hands clenching around the apron. He knew he would mess it up. No matter how hard he could have tried, he was bound to fumble and scare her. And how stupid, not even—
“Raphael!”
He glances over his shoulder and sees Bernadetta under the shop’s canopy. One hand holds the door while the other waves at him. “W-Where are you going?”
“Home, I guess?”
“W-Why’d you stop at the s-shop?” She calls out.
He glances down at the apron. Could he ask her something after scaring her? Is that allowed? Sure, he’d still give someone a favour after they scared him, but he’s Raphael, not Bernadetta. He doesn’t know what she’s been through—and from the way she trembles against the door frame—it’s been a helluva lot.
“I had a question for you.” He says. “But you’re closing up, so I can leave it for tomorrow.”
“N-No! Ask it now!” She calls out and Raphael turns around fully.
“You sure?”
She nods then waves him over. The baker walks back to the florist and gives her a heady distance. “C-Come inside. The neighbourhood doesn’t need to hear us talking after all.”
It takes Raphael a second to process. Bernadetta pushes the door further open and moves inside the flower shop. He follows in behind her and feels the warmth of the greenhouses begin to warm him up. “What was your question?” She looks up at him.
Her eyes are so big. And dark. They’re pretty . He thinks before holding out the apron. “I got a spill on it today. How do I clean it?”
Bernadetta looks over the flour marks, chocolate and strawberry stains and tsks softly. “My coworker, Ingrid, said I should ask you what setting to put it on. I don’t wanna mess your embroidery up.” He adds.
She inspects everything, her brow knit in concentration as she thinks. “Put it into a delicates bag and then run it on low speed with warm water. And soak before to get the stain out.” She instructs with confidence.
His brow raises a little. “Uh sure. But, what’s a delicates bag?”
Bernadetta gives him a look. “Do you... not have one?” She asks.
Raphael hides a laugh. “I don’t even know what that is.”
“Your Mom or sister doesn’t have one?”
He shakes his head.
Bernadetta bites her lip for a second. “I h-have one. I’ll lend you it.”
“Oh, Bernadetta you don’t have to I’m sure—"
“It’s what a good neighbour would do, right?” She asks, staring up at him with the slightest smile on her lips. “Besides, uh... I’d appreciate someone walking home with me.”
Raphael’s speechless. He simply nods and watches as Bernadetta zips around the flower shop, quickly closing up. From counter to greenhouse and back to the little workroom, she flies. And before he knows it, she’s hoisting her big canvas bag over her shoulder and at the door. The lights are all down and dim, the sign illuminated with a string of LED lights in the window bordering it. She motions for Raphael to follow her, and pushes the door open, locking it shut after he’s out with her.
They walk in silence. Raphael finds himself sneaking glances at her as she leads the way to her apartment. Her brow knits a little, her cheeks turn pink and flush, her hands knot in fists. A myriad of questions bubble up inside of him, but none feel particularly appropriate to ask a neighbour. Some could be interpreted as intrusive, others could be seen as insensitive. So Raphael settles on basic ones.
“How was your day?”
“Huh?” Bernadetta looks dazed, as if snapped out of a deep focus. “Oh, it was fine.”
Raphael offers a smile, to prod her on slightly. “Do you guys have regulars?”
“‘Regulars’?” Her brow furrows further.
“Yeah, regulars. People who come in often to buy things. Sometimes you get to know their preferences or names.” Raphael says, realizing that she probably doesn’t get many of them.
Bernadetta seems to think for a second. “Yeah. Some haughty pretty guy came in today.” She says. “I see him a few times a month. He likes roses.”
“Oh, aren’t they expensive?”
“Not really.” Bernadetta says. “Orchids are the expensive ones.”
He feels the conversation begin to die, feeling a little sated with their meagre conversation. He supposes it’s like working out: you start small and slow and build up the intensity and length.
Bernadetta leads the way to an expensive looking low-rise and pulls out an overfilled keychain that clanks with every swish of her lanyard. She begins to unlock the door and Raphael instinctively holds it open for her. Her glances back, a small smile on her lips and squeaks a thank you .
She hurries through a very expensive looking front hall. Too expensive looking. He feels that if he moves the wrong way he’ll take down the large grandfather clock and vase of calla lillies in a splendour of oak and glass. He walks as carefully as he can, once again 7 years old and holding baby Maya in his arms.
Bernadetta leads him down the hall and pulls another key from the chain, unlocking a thick steel door. It clanks open and Raphael waits outside. He watches as she shrugs off that heavy bag, her stance equaling out after favouring one side. The bag lands in a purple armchair and Bernadetta doesn’t even kick off her shoes. His eyes follow her as she moves quickly from one room to another and then stops halfway around the corner.
“W-Why are you standing in the hallway?” She asks. Raphael glances sheepishly behind him. “Come in.”
He moves inside the hallway. He tries to ignore it, but her home is very cluttered and full. The walls are framed with a mixture of photography and paintings, with a few sketches evening things out. Nothing goes together: the armchair doesn’t match the sofa, and the coffee table is a different type of wood than the side table, which is decorated with water glasses. His eyes follow out to the ground-floor walk out. He can see an art easel perched, with a half-finished painting on display. A paint-smeared stool sits nearby, and before the easel is a display of various plants that look slightly menacing. A small garden rests beyond his vision, ribboned with a tall lattice fence.
“I don’t wanna be nosy, but is it just you living here?”
Bernadetta’s voice comes out as a squeak again. “Yes.”
“It’s big for just one person.” Raphael says, before catching himself. “I mean, you must have a lot of space. Good room to grow, like your garden.”
Bernadetta comes back into view with a white mesh bag with a zipper. Her eyes lift to his just for a second. “Yes, it’s quite nice.” She says. “Nothing to bother me.”
She quickly turns back to the bag in her hand. “I actually noticed something about the apron,” she unfolds the garment, and then points out a small tear. “It’s been torn slightly.”
Raphael feels a flood of embarrassment. “Guess I shouldn’t wear it at work.” He says.
“I could...” Her eyes meet her feet. “I could fix it for you. And wash it too. If that’s okay with you, of course!” Her hands fly up in a panic. “If not, that’s fine too! I just thought...”
Raphael can sense her anxiety. He watches as her hands clench the fabric. “You’re sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble?” He asks.
“N-No, not at all!” Her voice softens. “I could probably finish it by tomorrow and drop it off at the cafe.”
“I couldn’t let you deliver it, not after you mended it.” Raphael protests. “Do you have a pen and paper?”
Bernadetta nods and then scrambles to her bag, pulling out a flower-themed notepad. Raphael writes down his number. “Here, give me a call as soon as it’s done and I’ll pick it up, okay?”
“But...” Bernadetta stops. She nods. “Okay. I’ll c-call you.”
“Or text, if that’s better for you.”
She nods again, clutching onto the paper and then looking back to him. “Thanks Bernadetta. I really appreciate it.”
“It’s what a good neighbour would do... right?” She says sheepishly. A blush crosses her face and Raphael can’t help but think that she looks adorable.
Your apron is ready.
There’s an emote at the end of the message. Raphael blinks twice at it, trying to figure out if this is a phishing message or a prank from Maya. The morning shifts must be getting to him.
“Heads up!” Caspar calls, before barrelling through with a tray of fully risen rolls. Raphael ducks out of the way, narrowly avoiding him. He tries his best to make himself disappear against the hot brick wall.
The bakery is incredibly busy this morning. He can barely wash his hands and slip out of the way of Annette, who is running through with buttercream frosting to ice a cake. He hurries over to the time clock to see three more messages from the same number.
I sewed the tear and washed it. I also ironed it.
I start my shift at 11:30 AM.
It’s Bernadetta by the way. The girl from the flower shop. In case you forgot.
Raphael can’t help but smile at his cracked phone screen. It was a hand me down from Ignatz—and he’s lucky that it’s only a damaged screen and not a painted battery. The icon to show that she’s typing comes up again, then disappears, and reappears again before disappearing for a final time.
Thx! Be by 2 pick up then!
Raphael can barely put the phone back into his pocket before his phone vibrates with a smiley face. He can’t help but smile at his screen.
“Raphael! Forget about the cinnamon buns?” Caspar calls, pulling him from his phone,
His head flicks up quickly, pocketing his cell. “On my way!” He replies, finding the sink and washing his hands again.
Bernadetta is barely able to keep her eyes open when she gets into the flower shop. She worked late into the night on Raphael’s apron—not that she totally regrets fixing it for him, but she does regret not getting a coffee before coming to work. Ignatz lights up, as if a customer is coming in, while Dedue barely glances her way. The latter continues making an arrangement of flowers.
“Good morning Bernadetta.” Ignatz greets, his hand poised in his sketchbook.
She can barely squeak a hello as she lugs her heavy bag to the counter. Ignatz turns back to his sketch and Dedue continues to prune plants. A quiet fills the arborteum, mixed with the dulcet tones of this week’s Top 40, where Bernadetta hears her friend from back home featured at spot 9. The three continue middling tasks, caring for the flowers, taking the odd phone all and giving advice on what’s in season, and making arrangements. An odd customer comes in, a ginger haired girl in sporty clothes, looking for a specific type of herb for pain relief. Otherwise, it’s the same old quiet day. At a half past two, Ignatz bids Dedue and Bernadetta farewell and leaves for the day.
Bernadetta begins watering the lilies and roses mindlessly, blind to the scowl that Dedue wears as she drowns the poor dears. In her head she wonders if Raphael got her message, or if she said too much, or was too rude. Text messages can often come off that way. Her mind runs off with everything that could go wrong as the planter of fresh-cut roses overfills. She stares off into the display of flower wreaths and ribbons on the wall and blindly thinks about everything that could have gone wrong.
Then again, she could have called him and stammered through a conversation. She cringes. That would be worse. And before she knows it, she’s having a waking nightmare of everything that could have gone wrong... While completely blind to the fact that the door alarm has chimed with the arrival of a customer, and that Dedue is talking to Raphael.
“Bernadetta.” Dedue’s stern tone pulls her from her lucid daydream. She realizes that the rose planter is overfilled and pouring onto her shoe and lets out a squeak. “Someone’s asking to see you. I sent them around back.”
“Oh, th-thanks.” She squeaks. Bernadetta sets down the watering can and kicks the air, trying to dispel as much water as she can. She straightens her skirt, goes to the backroom to get the mended apron and hurries out the back.
She finds Raphael glancing around the back garden with an astonished look on his face. For a second, she thinks of saying something funny, something witty that will make him smile, like “take a picture, it’ll last longer”—but then she realizes that it might be too mean. Maybe “like the view?” But even that seems to border on being cheeky.
Just as Bernadetta is about to take a step outside and go down the little steps that lead to the garden, Raphael turns around, frightening poor Bernadetta. She lets out a little squeak and trips down the steps, scraping her knee.
“Are you okay?” Raphael sinks beside her quickly. He sets down a box that was in his hands—she didn’t notice it, she must have been too distracted by how mystified he looked. “You’re bleeding!”
Bernadetta moves her long skirt out of the way, wincing as the fabric touches her cut. She holds her hand up. “I’m f-fine.” She protests.
“Hang on,” he says, searching in his pockets for something. He pulls out what looks like a plastic bifold wallet, but upon inspection, it’s a first aid kit. With less than a word, Raphael cleans the cut and puts a bandage with cartoon bugs on it.
“There,” He says.
“You carry a first aid kit on you?” Bernadetta asks.
“Never know when someone’s gonna get hurt.” He says before offering a comforting smile. “You okay?”
Bernadetta glances at the yellow and blue bandage. She nods. “I’ll be f-fine.”
“I’ve got something to get your mind off your knee if that helps,” Raphael holds up a finger. He turns to the white cardboard box in the overgrown grass beside him before turning back to her. He pops open the lid and Bernadetta forgets all about her throbbing knee.
“Ci-Cinnamon buns?!” She almost shrieks.
Raphael nods. “We made extra this morning so I could save some for you.” She swears she sees him blush. She feels her own cheeks heat a little. “It’s what a good neighbour would do.”
Bernadetta meets his gaze before pointing to one of the large, glossy rolls. “Go on, I’ve already eaten.” He encourages her gently.
And that’s all she needs. Bernadetta takes a bun and rips it in half, offering him the other piece. “It’s what a good neighbour would do, right?” She says.
Raphael nods and takes the other half from her, easing back in the grass as they share the cinnamon bun together. For a few minutes they sit in welcome silence, enjoying the spiced sweet treat. Bernadetta wants to ask if he was the one to make them himself, or if it was one of his coworkers. Or about him a little more, like what his favourite thing is to bake. She pulls her knees to her chest, the throbbing of the scrape returning to the front of her mind as she moves.
She wonders if he is a good cook too; she can’t bake all that well, but she adores cooking. It’s relaxing, she can shut her brain off after a long day and add whatever she wants to the pot or pan and know that it (most likely) won’t be a disaster. But if she measures the baking powder wrong, or adds too much flour or over whips some egg whites, then the sweet is ruined.
“It’s really pretty out here.” Raphael says, his eyes roving the garden.
“Y-Yeah. The owner was going to make it into a picnic area.” She says as her eyes cross the little ravine at the edge of the property. Across the stream is another eatery, with an outdoor patio and portable heaters for the cool evenings. She’s even seen a band out there once or twice, but it’s rare.
“Really? I bet it was nice.”
“Well he did,” she said. “But we didn’t have room for a full kitchen so it was only tea and coffee. And it got too expensive, no one wanted to pay twenty dollars an hour to sit in a mosquito’s den.”
“I would.” Raphael says. “This place would be perfect to host a birthday party or reunion or something.”
Bernadetta’s eyes rove the garden, with it’s overgrown grass and weedy flowers and the rusty iron furniture that once upon a time, had been charming. It could have been something, if the money was there.
But the owner would probably be against it. Besides, he’s not seen around here a lot; he’s often off on his second job doing research for the university. He only stops by to make sure the flowers haven’t died and drop off tax slips. He even sends the schedule every few weeks via email.
She hears Dedue walk around the shop and realizes that she’s still on the clock. She pushes herself up from the ground and hands Raphael the apron. “Mended and washed.” She says.
Raphael fans out the apron, inspecting it to see if he can find the tear. Bernadetta has always prided herself on her nimble fingers and amazing needlework; so she smiles to herself when he squints at the fabric.
“It looks brand new!” His face turns up in a massive grin. “Thanks Bernadetta!”
She flushes a little and forces herself to hold his gaze. “You’re welcome.” She says firmly, then her voice trembles. “I-I’ve gotta get back to w-work.”
“Yeah of course. enjoy the cinnamon buns!”
“I will.”
They stand in silence as Raphael hands her the pastry box with a smile. Suddenly, Bernadetta doesn’t want this to end. She is tempted to tell Dedue that she wants to take her break now and enjoy this little time left with Raphael.
He begins to turn away and walk out the side door. Without thinking, Bernadetta lurches forwards and almost grabs his hand. “Raphael?” She stops herself from grabbing his hand, but fails to stop his name from leaving her mouth.
He turns back around. “Yeah?”
“I uh....” She stumbles and then out flies, “Would you walk me home again? I mean, tonight?”
His brow raises. “Really?”
“Only if it’s not an inconvenience to you! I just liked the company...” She begins to stutter and stumble over reasons. Her face burns like a bonfire.
“Of course.” He says before giving her another gentle, sweet smile. “It’s what a good neighbour would do, right?”
Bernadetta nods, then offers a smile herself. “R-Right. Yes.”
“Text me when your shift is done.”
She looks sheepishly at her feet, her face on fire. “Okay.” She sneaks a glance up to see him wave goodbye and disappear behind the gate. In the seclusion of the garden, Bernadetta drops the pastry box into the grass and claps her cold hands to her burning face.
Raphael is at home, listening to Maya read aloud her latest entrance essay to the university when Bernadetta texts him.
I’m cleaning up. Be done in an hour.
He watches as the screen lights up with her typing, then disappears and reappears with another message.
“Ignatz?”
Raphael almost doesn’t hear Maya. She taps the old table again and he looks up. “Sorry, it’s a neighbour.” He says, glancing back to his phone.
“Did we get a new one?” She asks with a furrowed brow.
“No.”
Without looking, he can see Maya’s face scrunch up in confusion. “What do you mean it’s a neighbour, then?”
“Neighbour from work.” Raphael says, watching the icon do its disappear-reappear dance. He looks up. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, Sis.”
Maya rests her chin on her hand. “Raph, is this neighbour a girl?”
“Yes.”
“What’s her name?”
“Bernadetta.”
His phone vibrates again, shaking the old table. I’ll buy you dinner, if you’re hungry?
Maya, as if she has X-ray vision, smiles. “Do you think that she thinks that you’re a cute neighbour?” Her voice takes on a playful tone.
Raphael feels himself turn red. He flips over the phone. “Probably not.” He says.
“What’s she like?”
“She works at the flower shop.”
“Ooh! A florist! That’s so cute, you guys both make things. Different things, but cute things!” Maya leans over the table. “Is she cute? I bet she’s cute!”
Raphael turns redder. “She’s pretty.”
“What does she look like? Do you have a picture?!” Maya tries to reach for his phone, but Raphael tucks it into his shorts pocket.
“She’s not really important.” Raphael says before tapping Maya’s discarded papers. “But that essay is, right?”
Maya pouts and rolls her eyes. She sighs and reaches out for the papers, pretending to find her spot. Her eyes flicker up from the page. “How long have you known her?”
“A few weeks.”
“Did you bring her anything from the bakery?” She says, a finger running over the paper. “Girls love sweets. I would know, I’m one.”
“And big brothers love to see their little sisters get into nice schools.” Raphael says firmly. “Come on Maya. Essay time.”
Maya pouts and then finds her spot, continuing to read her paper. But as she does, a smile is painted across her lips, wide and bright.
Bernadetta makes an effort to clean and close up as slowly as she can. She double checks all the water supplies, makes sure the soil isn’t flooded (and pays extra attention to the roses she rained upon earlier) and ensures the door to the cooler is secure. She sweeps the floor twice, even thinks about mopping even though it’s reserved for Mondays and it’s a Thursday evening. She empties the register, puts the money in the safe and checks the lock three times.
And then she realizes that it’s only half an hour before she can punch out and leave. Bernadetta frowns, then makes her way to the counter and unlocks her phone. The read receipt for Raphael says that it was read about twenty minutes ago. She seriously considers calling him and telling him to come over early; but then she thinks of how she’ll mess up on the phone. She hates phone calls with a passion.
There’s way too many opportunities to mess up. She can talk right over him, or they can interrupt each other a lot, or he can just not answer! And then there’s the possibility of her freezing up, which she knows that she would do. Sure, it might all go fine and good at first but then they hit a lull and Bernie doesn’t know what to say, and it’s quiet for much too long. She can hear it play out perfectly in her ears: Raphael saying in the most gentle tone, as to not hurt her feelings, “well that’s okay, I’ll see you around” and then hanging up before she can snap herself out of her icy anxiety.
She shouldn’t have asked him to come. Not at all. It was a bad idea. Raphael is kind and she doesn’t doubt that it’s his nature to be calm and sweet, but she messes so many things up just by breathing. There’s that one time, back when she was little, and she knocked over an antique vase from her aunt and upset her mother so much. Bernadetta couldn’t bear to meet her gaze for a month.
On the rare occasion that her brothers allowed her to accompany them on a bust to Enbarr, she tripped on the front steps of the manor and twisted her ankle, alerting their private security and getting them all caught.
When she turned eight and was sent off to a girls private school, she barely left her room all semester. And when she did, it was only to speak to the gardener’s apprentice, who had brought her flowers the entire time. She said one word, and then one of the school security guards came in and hauled him off, never to be seen again.
When she was thirteen, she was invited to a middle school dance and hid in the bathroom all evening, not even the girls’ gym teacher could pull her out. She almost got locked in for the night.
At sixteen, when her mother decided that she should enter high society, she faked having low arches to avoid the proper shoes and then crafted a list of other ailments that prevented her from wearing those fancy dresses and makeup.
Just last week, when she was gathering the courage to go to the local coffee shop and order in person rather than on her phone, she asked for an old seasonal drink which took three other baristas on duty to try and decipher what she ordered.
(She ended up ordering a black coffee and throwing it out before she got to work.)
It just feels like I can’t catch a break. She thinks as she takes a seat at the cash. She kicks her foot against the floor. Maybe it’s a bout of bad luck I can’t shake. Or maybe I was born under a very bad sign.
“Knock knock!”
Bernadetta almost falls out of her seat. She whips around and looks at the front door, seeing Raphael smiling in the glass. Beside him is a girl, a little taller than her, but shorter than Raphael. She waves quickly as Bernadetta gathers herself and quickly hurries to the door.
“Hi Bernadetta.” Raphael greets, as she unlocks it. “Hope you don’t mind that I showed up early.”
“N-No, not at all.” She stumbles before glancing at the girl.
Raphael follows her gaze and then pats the girl on the shoulder. “This is my lil sis, Maya.” He says. “She wanted to come for an evening walk.”
Maya glances back to him. “Way to white lie!” She says before turning to Bernadetta. “I wanted to meet you! You’re a neighbour, right? It’s only polite.”
Bernadetta flushes sheepishly and nods. “Y-Yeah, I suppose so.” She says, glueing her courage to the sticking place. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s all mine.”
“We should probably get going,” Raphael says, “I bet you’re tired, right Bernadetta?”
She nods quickly. “Let me just get my bag.” The two voice their agreement loudly, and as Bernadetta walks away, Maya turns to Raphael with the most excited expression she’s ever seen.
Bernadetta locks up the shop, only realizing then that she spent a half hour mulling over impending failure with crippling anxiety. Maya begins to talk and talk and talk, burning through topics like firewood, talking about everything and nothing at all. Bernadetta silently breathes a sigh of relief that Raphael brought her, and that Maya is doing all she can to the silence. She realizes now that their walk home would have been very quiet and very awkward without her mile-a-minute talk.
“Ice cream!” Maya says, before pointing at a hole in the wall shop with a service counter. “That’s the new place that opened up, right? My friends at school say it’s the best! They dip soft-serve in melted chocolate.”
“Melted chocolate...?” Bernadetta mumbles to herself. She’s got leftover fried Pheasant waiting in the fridge at home, but it’s a warm night and a soft serve cone sounds so good.
“Maya, come on, Bernadetta’s probably really tired.” Raphael says.
“I brought change! C’mon.” Maya pleads as Raphael gives her a stern look.
“No, let’s go.” Bernadetta says as the two look at her. She sheepishly smiles. “I-I did say we could get di-dinner.”
Maya glances between the two of them. Raphael heaves a sigh. “Only if you’re sure.”
“Yeah, of course. It’s my treat.”
“I couldn’t let you—”
“I in-insist—”
“Bernadetta,”
Bernadetta’s voice breaks through the argument with swift decisiveness. “ Please . Allow me, Raphael.” She takes out a few bills from her wallet and hands them to him. She looks at Maya, who wears that delighted-astonished look. “Get anything you’d like.”
“I knew you’d be cool.” Maya says with a big smile on her face.
Raphael gives Maya a look as they pick their orders off the board. Maya picks first and then takes their orders. “I can handle it!” She promises. “You two find a table.”
Bernadetta and Raphael wander to one of the little picnic tables and sit down across from each other. Bernadetta heaves her bag onto the seat beside her and stares at the table. Raphael looks off at the lines of stores and shops.
“I’m sorry about Maya,” he says.
Bernadetta traces her finger over the notched wood. “No, no, it’s fine.” She says. “She’s fun.”
“When she heard that we were friends, she wanted to meet you. She wouldn’t let up.”
Bernadetta’s eyes move from the notches on her side to his. Her gaze wanders the chipping red paint. “We’re friends?”
“Yeah, well, I think so.” He says before catching himself. “Unless that makes you uncomfortable.”
“No!” Bernadetta says too quickly and too loudly. The couple at the table beside them glance her way and she turns bright red. Raphael wears a look of surprise and confusion. She shakes her head. “I meant, no. I like that.”
“Okay, good.” He says with a smile.
“Thank you for walking me back tonight. I appreciate it.”
“It’s no problem. It’s what a good friend would do, right?”
She looks up and meets his eyes. A smile slowly crosses her face as she nods. “Yeah. It is what a good friend would do.”
Maya comes back with three cones in hand and doles them out, then hands back the change to Bernadetta. The three sit and enjoy their ice cream as Maya continues rambling on and on about nothing. Halfway through their cones, she points out the university on the hill.
“Hey, you can see Garreg Mach from here.” She says. “Good to know it’s near a decent restaurant.”
“D-Do you go there?” Bernadetta asks.
“Not yet, but I will!” She says before nudging Raphael with her elbow. “My brother did for a little bit, so I wanna go there too!”
“ You went to Garreg Mach?” Bernadetta asks with wide eyes. She never pegged him as the textbook type.
“For a few weeks, I decided it wasn’t for me.” Raphael says. “But we’re working on Maya’s entrance essay and scholarship papers right now.”
“And I’m gonna get in!” She promises before finishing off her cone. “It’s so pretty and their art program is amazing! Raphael’s best friend goes there!”
“My coworker attends their evening art classes too.” Bernadetta adds, before asking Maya what she’s going to study. It starts another tangent about what she wants to do and how she’s going to love it, and Bernadetta grows to like Maya more and more.
They begin the trek home, with Maya chattering on and Raphael giving her a smile every time he catches her eye. While they walk, Bernadetta thinks about how Raphael said they were friends. Friends, the word seemed so out of reach for so long, now it’s within her reach.
Sure, she has friends like Dorothea, who is an independent musician back home, and Petra who she met online through a storytelling forum. And there’s Edelgard, who works with her father, but they all feel like they were made to be her friends. Given to her in a sense. She inherited Edelgard from her father’s relationship with Ionius; she met Dorothea in private school and was taken under her wing; and Petra acted like a remote guide to her in Brigid oral storytelling techniques.
But she found and befriended Raphael herself. Sure, it was through work, but she did it on her own! And for that, Bernadetta feels a little bit of pride at her accomplishment of finding and making her own friend.
Before sheknows it, they’re at the door of Bernadetta’s apartment complex and saying goodbye. She thanks the two again for the walk home and then turns back into the front doors. She glances over her shoulder at the last moment, and sees Raphael look too. She waves to him, and then turns back to talk with Maya.
She stands there for a moment, thinking about how nice a friend he is.
Bernadetta is woken up by the loud sound of her phone vibrating against her wood nightstand. She sleepily pushes herself up from her nest of cotton pillows and polyester blankets and gropes blindly for her phone. She yanks it up, pulling it straight from it’s wall socket and mumbles a small cuss.
She pushes her bangs out of her face then looks at the screen, realizing that it’s 5 in the morning. “It’s too early for this,” she whines as she sets the phone down. It vibrates again and she lifts it up, resting it on the pillow beside her.
There’s two messages from Raphael. Bernadetta stares blearily at her phone, barely processing the messages.
Been thnkng M talked abt the garden hosting an art display
The cafe could cater, if u wanted we could have it @ the garden?
There’s a bunch of flower emotes beside the last one. She stares at it again, trying to process. Her phone buzzes again.
Only if u wanted
Bernadetta rolls over and stares at the wall. It is a nice idea, having an art display in the backyard of the garden. And the catering would be great, the Golden Deer Cafe’s food is delicious. She shared the rest of the cinnamon buns with Dedue and then froze a couple for snacks later on. It might even spruce up the local economy.
But all the talking. Bernadetta would have to speak with Dedue and Ignatz about this, and most of their conversations consist of “hello, how are you” and “goodnight”. Then she’d have to talk to her boss, which the last time she did it was to ask for an increase in hours to keep her depression at bay, and by Sothis that had almost given her a heart attack.
Then the venue. What if it rained? What if it was too cold? What if the soil decided that it wanted to make a thousand dandelions pop up and then all the guests got runny noses from allergies and ran off? Or what if bugs and animals were attracted to the delicious food? She begins to imagine a horrible, off the wall scenario where a dozen wolves show up to the garden and terrorize the party.
Her phone buzzes again. She doesn’t want to roll over and fill herself with a sense of stupid, senseless hope. But she can’t help but turn back to her phone, unlock it and read Raphael’s latest message.
Id help u every step !!!
She stares at the message, her cheeks heating a little and turning red. She swallows back her fear, sits up and begins to type back.
It sounds fun. I just don’t know.
She erases that. It sounds like she doesn’t trust him. Friends can’t exist without trust.
It sounds fun but there’s a lot involved.
She smashes the backspace key again. It sounds like she’s lazy.
It sounds fun, are you sure?
She can’t doubt him! That’s beyond rude!
Just then, a message buzzes through. Its ok if ur not interested !
Bernadetta stares at her phone and then presses the call button before her courage runs away from her.
“ Morning! ” Raphael says on the other line.
“Hi,” Bernadetta says, trying to keep the grogginess out of her voice. “You want to have an art gallery at the garden?”
“ Yeah! I was talking about it after you showed me the garden. Maya said it would be a cool idea, and I thought it would be nice .” He says. “You could show the owner that hosting events could work and the cafe could get new customers.”
Bernadetta fingers the quilt on her knees. The blanket slips away and she notices the bug bandage is still on her knee. Her eyes focus on it. “ But only if you wanted to .” Raphael insists.
“Don’t you think it’ll be a lot of work?” She runs her fingers over the plaster, then rests her hand on it.
“ Not if we work together. ”
She flushes a little harder and then bites her lip. “Give me a little time to think about it, okay?”
“ Of course. ” He says.
“And Raphael?”
“ Yeah? ”
“Would you...” she clenches some of her blanket into her hand. “Walk me home again tonight?”
She can hear him smile through the phone. “ I’ll be there at 7. ”
Bernadetta hangs up and stares at her phone, with a silly little smile plastered to her face.
That afternoon, Bernadetta brings a vase of rudbeckias and sunflowers to the bakery. She leaves them on the windowsill, with a little card drawn by her hands that states they’re from the Eagles Nest Arboretum. Ingrid thanks her and Bernadetta, with all her courage, summons a prompt, you’re welcome !
The next morning, Raphael drops off a batch of dark chocolate chip cookies at the flower shop. He leaves a little scrap of paper in his scrawl that says they’re samples from the Golden Deer Cafe and Bakery. When Dedue asks who agreed to the exchange, Bernadetta flies out from her work room and takes ownership, with a nervous smile at Raphael.
And that night, Raphael comes by again to walk home Bernadetta home.