Chapter 2: Nathanael

It took me all of thirty minutes to achieve the result that is currently staring back at me from the mirror, and it'll take me a while to finally believe that it is, in fact, my reflection and not another woman's. Izzy and I are the same size; the way her dress perfectly marries my figure makes me wonder. Why don't I dress up like this every so often? It's not the fanciest dress out there by any means, but it makes me feel various levels of fancy. I didn't go crazy on the makeup; I like it fair. As for my hair, I am quite grateful and relieved that I don't have hair that requires constant tending to; I can just let mine loose, and it'll look good all the same. It does, in my opinion, at least. And I am thankful to Izzy for not interfering with the way I want to look tonight; she may not try to name my kids for me after all. A very familiar knock on the apartment door grabs my attention away from the mirror. My eyes dart towards the clock that's hanging above the living room door; it is indeed already five minutes before eight o'clock. But from the sound of that knock alone, I know that it can't be Nathanae., I know that it can only be, "Hello, Mrs. Cooper," I greet my landlady the moment I open the doo., "I take it you're here for the rent money." Of course, it's her. There was no doubt to be had. She has this signature knock that only she does. Exclusively, two loud knocks, almost always spaced out by a regular interval of three seconds in between. Five feet tall, her hazel brown eyes meet mine, and she gives me a rather tired smile, one that seems just as tired as her features, along with complete silence. Which isn't the least bit worrying, coming from her. She's not a woman of many words, Mrs. Cooper. She isn't much of a woman of anything. I don't think I've ever seen her leave the building, and she only leaves her apartment to collect rent money from her tenants. That I noted, of course. Without saying anything else, I turn and walk to the small three-chest drawer, lodged between the living room and kitchen doors. I pick up the envelope sitting on top of it and come back towards Mrs. Cooper, before handing it to her. She calmly accepts it from me, knowing it contains the money, cash. Not that she ever complained about it or stated it, but I noticed from the very first day I had to pay her that her preferred method of payment is cash. She clutches it to her chest in both hands, like an innocent child would. For the first time in quite a while, from knowing her, she uses her voice to communicate, "Thank you, Rosemary," she says feebly, the same fatigued smile across her face. She doesn't bother opening the envelope to check its content; she never does. She just turns away to leave. I stand there for a bit and watch her as she goes, with quite a heavy heart. I've always felt this way after encountering Mrs. Cooper, so it's nothing new. She drags her swollen feet in her moccasins when she waddles. She is not that old; only 59 years old, but she has no family left to speak of; the same for friends. She reaches the elevator doors, but she turns to her left to take the stairs. She never liked using the elevator. At least, I've never seen her do so. Once she disappears behind the wall, and as I am about to close the door, I hear the elevator bell ring before its doors open, revealing the presence of one man right at the center of it. One thing I can tell from where I am is that he is taller than I. Another thing I am able to see is that he is holding a bouquet in his hands. He notices me as he steps out of the elevator, but he looks from his left to his right side, multiple times, at the numbers on the doors around him while he advances down the hallway towards my apartment. The closer he walks towards me, the more details about him I can discern. At the risk of sounding weird, I think it'll be enough for me to say that he takes good care of his body, seeing as he looks… In shape and healthy. I hold my breath and count the seconds until he finally nears, then comes to a halt in front of me. I lift my head to gaze upon his face, which is a contrast from having to look down at Mrs. Cooper a few minutes ago. The radiant smile he's offering me makes me forget my rest. There he stands, a bouquet of beautiful Irises in his hands. Every feature on him, almost exactly as described by Izzy. Just like me, he is neither overdressed nor is he underdressed. Just like mine, his outfit doesn't seem to be fancy, but it gives an allure. Almost like we planned for this date together. He went easy on the cologne; I am barely able to smell it. I perceive a very faint hint of jasmine, a note of cedarwood, and a touch of the musky scent of ambergris. Pleasant enough but not jarring, which is a bonus point. Although I can snare a fourth... Undertone in my webs, one that, for the life of me, I can't distinguish. Even though I can swear I smelled it before. I finally gave up on the mystery fragrance when three things about him captured my attention. Unlike what Izzy had told me, his eyes aren't of an obsidian black but of an emerald green, which, if I have to describe in one word, it would in all honesty be: Majestic. Now, I am not saying Izzy never makes mistakes, but I am saying it is extremely rare... Especially with something as flagrantly apparent as a man's eye color, and he couldn't have been wearing colored contacts either, she would have noticed. So naturally, that begs a plethora of questions that I'll push to the side for the time being. The second oddity resides in his smile. In my life, never have I seen such a genuine, fake smile, or is it a fake, genuine one? I am not even sure how to describe it. It's like he's having the worst case of constipation to ever befall him, but that pain seems to be just as intense as his desire to go out on this date, still. Then again, I can see his mismatched socks peeking from underneath his khaki pants, so it might just be plain nervousness betraying him. As for the third thing, and by far the hardest thing to describe. It… "Rosie?" his voice calls for my attention. I must've seemed completely absent-minded if he felt the need to dial for my return to earth. I don't think I am making a great impression so far, "Rose," shaken out of my trance, I promptly correct him, "Only Izzy calls me Rosie. It's not that I am okay with it, it's more like I just had to get used to it," I can't wipe the stupid smile I must have on my face to save my life. "Yeah, from what I've seen of her, she doesn't seem like the type of person to let go of a habit very easily," a small chuckle escapes him. He hit the nail on the head with his assessment of Izzy: "You were Waiting for me… At the door?" he adds very shortly after that. "Well, no. My landlady was here to collect rent money and…," my mind goes completely blank. He furrows his eyebrows inquisitively as he throws a glance at the empty hallway behind him. Mrs. Cooper was already out of sight by the time he came out of the elevator. So, all he sees right now is a woman who has been standing at the door of her apartment for seemingly no reason, other than to contemplate the hallway... Like a freak. How can something be so simple yet so complicated to explain? "So, do you have anything planned for the night?" I toss in my best attempt at switching gears. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I booked us a table at one of the restaurants I happened to be driving by earlier today; it looked cozy, and I thought we'd enjoy it. But if that's not to your liking, we can too Something else," he says. "No, no! I am fine with that. Can't wait to see which restaurant you picked," He offers me another smile, then slightly leans towards me to hand me the bouquet of Irises. I take them before looking back at him, "Thank you, I love them." I lay my eyes on the flowers again, "May I ask, why Irises?" "I had so many to choose from. When I told the florist that it was for a date, he advised me to bring roses, and I don't know why,y b, from the way your friend described you to me, irises seemed more fitting. I don't know, does that make sense?" "Totally," I utter. It makes a lot more sense than I care to admit, but what the hell did Izzy tell him about me? She always ran her mouth in ways she never should. Although, for the time being, I am certainly not complaining. Considering Irises symbolize many things, trust being among those things, I am having a fair idea of the impression Izzy gave him about me. But this matter strays so far from reason that it is impossible for For example, make an absolute conclusion.