Buy One, Get One

Nkiru texted me at ten on Saturday: new store on Ditmars, come now. So I went.

The store was very white and very quiet. There was one table in the middle with six candles on it, and a girl at the door said hello to us like we were rich.

Nkiru picked up a candle and turned it over. “Twenty-four dollars,” she said. “For a candle.”

“Put it down.”

“But look.” She pointed at the sign: buy one, get one free. “Two candles, one price. That’s half, Delphine.”

“It’s not half,” I said. “The store by our apartment sells candles for six dollars. You’re paying twelve each. That’s double.”

Nkiru looked at me. Then she looked at the candle. It was a fancy brand, a French name in small black letters, the kind of thing people put on the internet.

“Yes,” she said, “but this one smells like a hotel in Paris.”

“You’ve never been to Paris.”

“And now I don’t have to go.”

She took the deal. Of course she took the deal. Outside, she gave me one of the bags.

“Happy birthday,” she said.

“My birthday’s in March.”

“Then it’s an early one.” She was already walking. “It was free.”