Up In Flames by Rosanna Leo Page A

liberal sprinkling of salt. “Shall we?"
    As he followed her into the den, Shane caught her rosewater scent, underlying that of popcorn. It was faint, but sweet enough it made you want to seek out the spots where she had applied it. The scent was so different from the heavy musk Alana used to wear, the one he often found overpowering. The two perfumes were so indicative of the women who wore them, but it was Jules’ soft scent which was now going straight to his head.
    She got the movie ready, and then plopped down onto the cushy sofa. She positioned the bowl of popcorn next to her, then looked up at Shane. “Oh, if you don't want to sit on the sofa, I can put some popcorn in another bowl for you."
    "No sense dirtying another bowl. I can share if you can.” He sat down next to her, and grinned as he noticed her blushing at his nearness.
    "Claire always said I was terrible at sharing my popcorn, but I'll try to behave.” She winked at him. “But if you were holding vanilla ice cream, of course, I'd whip it out of your hands so quickly you wouldn't even know what happened."
    "Fore-warned is fore-armed.” He gave her a little salute.
    The movie began, and it wasn't long before Shane noticed the wistful look on his companion's face. “You really like this movie, don't you?"
    "It's my favorite. When I was little, I used to believe I'd grow up and marry Jimmy Stewart. And of course every time I heard a bell ring, I thought it was Clarence getting his wings all over again! I was a silly kid."
    "Nothing silly about that. We all want the ideal partner and home life. Things are just simpler in the movies."
    They watched quietly for a bit, but it wasn't long before Shane noticed she was sneaking peeks at him. He continued happily munching his popcorn, and waited for her to say what was on her mind.
    Well before George Bailey began to question his existence, Jules spoke. “How long were you and your wife together?"
    "Pardon?” He hadn't been expecting that question.
    "If you don't want to talk about her, it's okay. God knows I've talked your ear off about my past.” She bit her lip, looking as if she wished she hadn't spoken at all. “I know it's none of my business."
    "It's ... it's all right.” He played with the piece of popcorn in his hand, and then popped it into his mouth. “Alana and I were together for about three years before she died."
    "Just three years. It's a shame you didn't have longer with her.” Her forehead was furrowed, and the fine, black arches of her eyebrows were knit together. “It must have been very hard for you."
    "It's been a bit of a journey, I'll admit."
    Jules turned her whole body to face him, pulling her feet up under her. Bedford Falls and Clarence the angel were already clearly forgotten. “How did she die?"
    "In a fire."
    He knew there was no sense sugar-coating it. It was best to just come out and say it. There had been a time when he could barely utter those words, but he said them calmly now, hoping his eyes did not convey the despair he had felt for so long.
    Jules’ jaw dropped. He could tell she didn't know how to respond. No one ever did. No expression of consolation quite fit the bill when someone died a horrible, fiery death. This was usually the point in the conversation where people got embarrassed and said “I'm sorry,” then scurried away. He waited for her to do the same thing.
    Jules just stared at him, her eyes darker, questioning. She turned off the TV and DVD player, and turned back to him. “Oh, Shane,” she whispered. “That's terrible. Unthinkable. I can't begin to imagine what you've been through."
    She placed a small hand on top of his, and he gave her a little grin, liking how it felt. They sat quietly for a minute, lost in the moment. Jules obviously didn't want to intrude on his thoughts. She just looked at him, as if waiting for him to decide if he wanted to unburden himself.
    That space was what he needed. He felt the need to tell her what happened.