by Amelia Grace
‘Cool. Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.’ I raised an eyebrow at him.
‘Geez, Louise. You’re so bossy. No wonder you don’t have a boyfriend!’
I looked at Darcy, then put my fingers over my eyes the moment I felt them burn with tears. After the day of scars, I would never be a wife or a mother. My heart was damaged. My body was damaged. A man won’t be able to see past the physical scars, and he sure as hell won’t want to deal with my psychological baggage.
‘Oh crap! I’m sorry, Yolande. I had a brain glitch. Forgive me.’
I took my hands away from my eyes. I couldn’t look at Darcy. I shook my head. ‘Just go,’ I whispered.
He tapped his hand on the workbench and left. I took a deep breath and tried to ignore the overwhelming sudden gush of heartache that flooded my body. I widened my eyes to stop the tears from falling. Distraction. I found the next floral order and focused on the details: a simple bunch of daisies. No fancy, convoluted or encrypted addends. Just friggin’, bloody, daisies. White.
I let out my breath and ran to the cold room. The moment I opened the door I was accosted by the chilled air. It hit me like a slap in the face. I stilled for a moment, wondering if the chilled air would freeze my tears. I closed the door and put my hands on the top of my head and paced the small room. It was no good feeling sorry for myself. The pity party pit was a lonely, miserable place that reeked of rotten garbage, packed into my personal baggage. Whoever said life is beautiful hadn’t suffered. I was filled with jealousy. I was filled with a deep sadness over my stolen happiness.
Life is painful. Messy. Hard.
I pressed my palms to my eyes. I couldn’t let a tear expose me. Even a frozen one.
I sighed loudly. Distraction. It was the only way to climb out of the deep pit of despair. I looked about the room and found the frigging, bloody daisies. White. Then counted to ten before I left the room, without my self-pity.
My steps slowed when I saw Gramps at the workbench. I placed the white daisies next to the paper and ribbon.
‘Grampapa, hi.’
‘Hi back, Yolande.’ He looked around the store. ‘It looks busy this morning,’ he said.
‘It hasn’t stopped since I opened the doors. How’s Gram?’
Gramps closed his eyes for more than a moment. ‘Still nauseous ... scared.’
‘Scared?’
‘Of another vertigo attack.’ Gramps brushed his hand over his face. When he moved his hand away, he shook his head. His eyes were wet. He blinked numerous times.
‘Surely there’s a medication that’ll make it go away?’
Gramps shook his head. ‘The doctors can’t even give us a diagnosis at this stage. The only certainty is that it’s something to do with the inner ear ...’
‘Well, that sucks. Why do ears have to be so complicated!’ I started to wrap the daisies. White.
‘Yolande. Where is Gram’s bicycle?’
I sucked in a breath and tensed. I didn’t put her bicycle out the front of the store this morning!
‘Gram would be furious if she saw the bike was missing. You know what it mea—’
I put my hand on Grampapa’s arm. ‘I’m sorry, Gramps. From the moment I arrived this morning I've been in a rush—’
‘Gram always did everything on her own and she always ha—’
‘Stop ... stop, please.’ My bottom lip trembled. ‘I’m not a florist. I’m not a store owner. I’m not even a flowerologist who can read people’s minds when they are requesting a particular type of flower for a specific occasion. I shouldn’t even be here. I should be—’
‘Forgive me, Landi.’ Gramps closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘Gram’s illness is hard on all of us. Please hear me with sincerity when I say your grandmother and I are so very thankful you are here.’ Gramps pulled me into a hug. He had no idea how much I needed it.
‘I’ll get the bicycle and add some flowers.’ I pulled away from Gramps and put my hand on his shoulder.
‘I’ll do it!’ Gramps put his hands on his hips.
I burst out laughing. ‘Including the flower arrangement?’ He was being incredulous.
He nodded. ‘Certainly.’
‘Make sure you prepare the flowers correctly, so you don’t kill them!’
Gramps frowned at me. ‘Oh-me-oh-my, Landi. Don’t worry about that. I have a head full of knowledge about the flower science of keeping flowers looking handsome.’
‘Really?’
‘I certainly do. I don’t need your help,’ he said.
‘Clearly,’ I said, and gave him a sweet Yolande smile of the past, before that terrible day of the scars. ‘Thanks.’
*~*~*~*~*
I cleaned the sales desk and rearranged the ornaments and plants to encourage purchasing while Charlotte was on her lunch break. I took a step back and assessed my new arrangement, not convinced that it looked tempting enough, then fussed with it some more, listening to the light footsteps that graced the floor in neither a feminine or masculine way. The scent of citrus with a hint of liquorice, vanilla, lavender, amber and sandalwood could be smelt.
Xander.
I looked up. He was the colour of blue, deep, like the ocean depths, reminding me of slow motion, whale songs, dolphin clicks, and a halo of sunlight at the surface.
‘Hey!’ I said, and touched my chest scar to make sure it was covered. It was no use rolling off my usual flurry of words of flowers, tea, coffee or books. He never bought flowers—only stole them. He didn’t look like a book guy, and I’m sure he wasn’t here for the beverages.
‘Hey!’ he said.
‘Are you here for flowers?’ It was said in jest with a wry smile.
He smiled coyly, lowered his head then looked back up at me. ‘Conversation ...’
I looked at him and waited.
‘So ...’ I encouraged ...
‘Thank you for being the one to enable me to use your gram’s bicycle ... and for being the tag-along as my pretend girlfriend when you didn’t want to be there.’
I smiled at him. Gram said smiling always helped to hide a myriad of emotions. I hoped my smile hid the confusion I was feeling. ‘The cake was nice. I wish I could have had more though.’
‘Granted.’
‘Granted?’
‘Wishes ... hey ... I have to go.’
‘Sure ... no charge for the conversation!’ I hoped he could see my sense of humour.
He frowned at me. ‘Yeah ... so ... thanks again. I appreciate it.’ Was he wanting to ask me something else? He seemed kind of nervous.
‘See ya ...’
‘Yeah ... bye.’
I watched as Xander turned, almost like a pirouette, then walked “step and point” for two steps before he fell into a normal stride. I narrowed my eyes. How odd for a guy to walk like that, unless he was—
‘I’m back!’ Charlotte said when she stood beside me.
‘Good,’ I said, picturing Xander ice-skating.
‘Mmmm—he’s delicious,’ Charlotte said and let out a dreamy sigh.
‘With an unpleasant aftertaste ...’
She spread her fingers out on her chest. ‘Do you know him?’
‘Once—for a little more than two hours of my life!’ I looked at Charlotte and smiled at her.
‘Two hours? I would have wanted more time with him.’
‘Trust me, Charlotte. Two hours was two hours too many. He’s complicated and confusing.’
*~*~*~*~*
Darcy headed out the rear door and locked it while I dimmed the lights to the store. This work day was a tiresome one. I stepped out of the double front doors, dead locked them, and turned to catch my taxi; the same female driver each time.
I glanced at my watch. I was on time, but the taxi wasn’t. It was never late. I tapped my right steel-capped work boot on the footpath, twice. It was my reminder that I was safe. I looked to my left and right at the main street of Tarrin. There was no one about. A wave of anxiety shot through me, burning my v
eins.
A black sports car stopped at the curb. Number plate: IMGR8.
A man stepped out of the car and stood before me. I knew exactly who he was. He had been at the store.
‘Hi, Andi.’ He was the colour of dark red, and my alert to danger. He was a fisted hand slammed heavily onto piano keys. I needed to run from him. Fast.
‘Did you need more flowers?’ I tried to buy some time for the taxi to arrive.
He looked down and smiled. ‘No. I’ve come to give you a lift home.’
‘Really? What a nice idea ... but my cab will be here in the next minute.’ My skin was tingling.
He shook his head. ‘Your mother sent me to pick you up.’
Liar. My heart was beating double time. I checked my phone texts. None. I had a pact with my parents—if there were any changes to my taxi arrangements, they would text me.
Play the game. Play it better. I glanced over at his car. ‘My mother was probably impressed by your sports car and thought I would be too.’ I gave him a smile. A fake smile. ‘But I’m fine. The taxi will turn up, any second now.’
He took a step closer to me.
I stiffened and held my breath.
‘It was here ... but I sent it away, so I could give you a lift. I wanted to apologise for my poor manners when I met you.’ He reached up and touched my hair. ‘Come on, Andi. Let me make it up to you. I’m sorry.’
I tried to take a breath on top of my already held breath to still my shaking limbs. I let it out, then breathed deeply and felt my rage building. ‘Step away from me.’ My voice was low, and strong.
He reached for my hand, but I reefed it away from him. I took a step backwards. ‘Touch me, and I will kill you,’ I said through gritted teeth.
The man laughed. ‘Come now, sweet one. That’s no way to talk to a—’
‘Sorry I’m late!’ It was Darcy. He was walking toward us, almost in a run.
I looked at my watch. ‘Yep. Five minutes late!’ I walked to him and hugged him. Tightly. He was my hero. Officially.
‘Ow,’ he said into my ear. ‘You’re standing on my toes.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ I whispered. I stepped back from him and looked down at my steel-capped boots. ‘If you waited a bit longer you could’ve seen my boots in action ...’
Darcy smiled at me, put his arm around my shoulders and started walking with me away from the man. ‘Hmmm ... I should have waited ... next time.’
‘Next time?’
‘Yeah ... the next time I have to rescue you.’
I shuddered, and a memory came to the fore, unbidden ...
Jack laughed. ‘Look at what we have here ... two chicks!’
I clenched my fist. Chicks is such a demeaning word.
‘You know why women hate some men, don’t you—’ I started.
‘No more, Andi,’ Mia whispered.
‘Not that I would call either of you a man! Your violence shouts of your weakness,’ I continued.
‘Shut the fuck up, bitch!’ The sharp bite of Jack’s hand stung my already bruised cheek.
‘Coward,’ I spat.
‘Andi, not a word more, you’re making them angrier!” Mia said, her voice trembling.
Johnno looked down at the knife he held in his grubby hand and grinned.
‘Andi—’ Darcy’s voice pulled me back from my memory. ‘I said ... are you ready to go home?’
‘How did you know to come back?’ I asked, not answering his question as we walked. I looked back over my shoulder at the assailant and watched as he climbed into his black car and left.
‘I saw your taxi leave before you closed the doors to the store. I thought another one would come. But when I saw the black car—’
‘I forgive you.’
‘For what?’
‘Your comment today.’
He pulled me closer and kissed my head. ‘You know I love you, don’t you?’
‘It depends on the day. Some days no one can love me. Not even me.’ I wanted to add, never me, but I didn’t.
Chapter Fifteen
‘FLOWERS, TEA, COFFEE ... OR BOOKS?’ I asked, wondering where Gram was. It was Josh who stood before me. He was the colour of pink; hot pink, shouting of love.
‘Flowers again, please,’ he said, and stood taller.
‘Again? Did the first flower arrangement not work?’ I frowned at him.
‘Oh—they worked a treat. This is a commitment bouquet.’
‘Oh-my! Good news for you then! Did you have any particular type of flower in mind?’ I asked.
‘That’s where I was hoping you would help ...’
I brushed my hands down my apron then touched the top of my dress up to make sure my scar was covered. Was Josh talking about Xander? Part of me needed to know if he was gay. ‘In one word, how would you describe him—your partner?’
‘Perfect. Spectacular. Favourite.’
‘That’s three words!’
He let out a heavy breath. ‘I know ... I’m just so ... into him.’
I cleared my throat. The visual that entered my mind was too graphic. ‘I think I know which blooms will represent everything you’re saying,’ and a little more, I wanted to add, but didn’t. ‘Can I grab your phone number or email, so I can contact you when your bouquet is done?’
‘I can wait,’ he said.
‘Up to two hours?’ I frowned at him.
‘Oh ...’
‘Oh indeed. I’m waiting on help to arrive. Until then, new bouquet creations have to wait ... I’m sorry.’
He closed his eyes for a moment. ‘Then, I’ll just have to be patient, won’t I?’
‘I’m really sorry ...’
‘I’ll be back at 10.30.’
‘See you then! And thanks for understanding,’ I said as Josh left. I added his order to my list of things to do. Gram still hadn’t stepped foot in Flowers for Fleur, and Charlotte hadn’t graced the store with her presence, either.
‘Good morning. How can I help?’ I forgot to say the flowers, tea, coffee or books spiel, and guilt washed over me. I berated myself silently. A young woman stood before me. She wore a navy, short-sleeved A line dress. She was the colour of Parmesan yellow, full of anxiety.
‘Flowers ... and a blank book, please.’ Her voice was soft.
I smiled at the request for a book. My first one. ‘Are you writing something?’ I spoke in an upbeat voice to try and lift her mood.
‘No. It’s symbolic for me.’ She twisted her hands together and moved from foot to foot.
Her nervous behaviour put me on edge. I looked around the store for anything odd. ‘A good symbolic, I hope,’ I said and looked back at her.
‘It is. A blank book means a new start.’
‘It does ... and you are the author of your life,’ I said. To a certain degree ... you can choose what you do, but you can’t choose what others do to you, I wanted to add, but didn’t.
‘It’s my new life. I’m not going back to the old one.’
‘Good for you!’ I was starting to feel a little jealous of her. I wished I had the courage to start a new book for my life, where none of the past stories blemished any of the pages.
She leaned in a little closer. ‘He made me keep a book, you know ...’ Her voice was barely audible. Her eyes widened.
I paused for a moment. ‘What type of book?’ I nodded to her, encouraging her to keep talking.
‘A mistake book. Every time I made a mistake, he would make me write it down.’
I shuddered and my chest tightened. ‘Why?’
‘So he could punish me,’ she whispered, and looked down when she blushed.
I couldn’t breathe. The sharp point of the bowie knife on that terrible day of the scars flashed in my mind. I had to distract myself to stop a panic attack. I reached over to a small watering can and poured pretend water into a plant displayed on the sales desk.
I placed the watering can down carefully and walked around to the young woman and guided her to the bookshelf. ‘Y
ou must burn the mistake book.’ The words came out in a whisper before I could stop them.
She pressed her lips together. ‘I should. But it’s the only evidence I have. It matches the secret book I kept—my punishment book.’ She sucked in a sharp breath and looked to her side, wide eyed.
‘Is he here in the store with you?’ I kept eye contact with her.
‘No ...’ Her eyes darted around the store. ‘I ... I have to get back to the car before he finds out.’
I grabbed a blank-paged book off the shelf and handed it to her, then grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the flowers. ‘Choose whatever you like.’
She picked up a simple bouquet of coloured gerberas and looked around with wide eyes.
‘I can hide you and help you get housed in a women’s shelter,’ I said.
‘I can’t leave him ...’ She shook her head with wide eyes. ‘I should go out to him ... he’ll be real angry when he can’t find me.’ Her eyes darted around the store and outside. ‘He’ll be sort of kinder then, if he finds me sitting in the truck ... sort of. He needs me,’ she whispered, as if the walls had ears.
I’d heard of victims like her, having a loyal connection to their abusers. I reached up and fingered my scar beneath my work dress—a habit that was hard to break.
‘Okay ... but if you ever change your mind, I promise to help you,’ I said.
A tear ran down the young woman’s face. She wiped it away.
‘You need to go. The flowers and book are a gift from me. Think of kindness when you look at them ... and ... whatever is happening to you, isn’t forever. You can change the path of your life. You will know when the time is right. I won’t forget you,’ I said, trying to throw a life-line to her.
She turned and left Flowers for Fleur. I stood, stunned. Staying with an abuser didn’t make sense. It would be like me staying with the man who scarred me. I sent a silent prayer for her rescue and hoped that she would come back one day.
I returned to the sales desk and served people, taking money for ten pre-made wrapped blooms. The stock was getting low and I couldn’t see a break from selling in sight, plus I had orders to create and deliver.
‘Flowers, tea, coffee, or books?’ I asked the elderly gentleman who stood before me in his grey trousers and blue button-up shirt. He was the colour of indigo blue: relaxed, happy, and lovestruck.
