I autopilot through my day, rebuilding my armor, then go home and read or watch old reruns with my father in our shared apartment.
The cycle repeats itself.
Every night the same dream.
Every morning a broken heart morphs into titanium. By midday, I’m a friggen survivor.
“Breathe in joy, bliss, and happiness.” Continuing the cycle, I pep myself up each morning with the same old lies. My peach dress fans against my ankles as I inhale the floral scent of my flower shop, Urban Garden. Walking inside, I put the keys to the shop in my rust-colored apron pocket. The place’s so tiny, we—one staff member and I—run inside and determine what’s needed if it's not already in flowerpots by the entryway. After squeezing past bushels of daisies and cinnamon pinecones, I open the drapes.
I lug out a pot of mums, one of my best sellers in the fall. Suddenly, I feel a pair of eyes on my ass.
Standing up straight, I put a hand on my hip. “Deon, how are you?”My eyes are here.
I mimic the smile of the dark-skinned Yankee’s fan, who owns the barbershop a few doors down. I find it easier to imitate life when others are around. Wearing a shattered heart on your sleeve incites questions like,Are you okay?
Not at all. My mom, my best friend in the friggen universe, died. I play the part, so others don’t have to struggle through uncomfortable emotions of remorse or sympathy.
“I’m good,” Deon replies, handing me a chai tea. “Checking in on you.”
“Well, I’m good,” I reply, offering a nod of appreciation.
“Hey, Deon.” Aliyah stops a few paces from the door since there’s no passing each other in the tight area. “You two making weekend plans?”
Cheeks burning, I turn away. Deon laughs it off. I know in this day and age, women are go-getters too. But shit, my momma taught me to let men make the first move. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. These days men aren’t as monogamous anyway. I give Deon an appraising glance.
Show mesomething.
Actually, don’t. My life is stagnant because I can’t move. Theoretically speaking, I should crave a warm body to thaw thenumbness.But with all the tossing and turning I do at night, I’d ruin the unlucky guy’s sleep.
I clear my throat and gesture. “Aliyah, please, he’s just bringing me a drink.”
“Yeah.” Deon backs away, heading for his shop.
“Where’s my drink?” Aliyah’s head tilts.
“Girl, help me out here,” I snort, hefting the free-standing chalkboard where I’d already drawn pumpkins and succulents.
“Luxury, I need caffeine to survive,” Aliyah mumbles, assisting me with repositioning the stand. “Is that why you keep denying that sexy piece of chocolate? Men stop doing thoughtful shit the morning after?”
I laugh. “If Deon stopped dropping by with coffee after we had sex, then his ass wouldn’t be worth the trouble anyway.”
“Deon smells like a million bucks, swaggering in here every morning to give your unsatisfied ass a lil’ somethin’ something.’ Shit, better than these damn flowers.”
“Blasphemy!” I chuckle. “It's not a conspiracy. Yes, he smells great. However, he smiles at everyone, says hello too.”
“Hello, the drink!”
“Hello! I own this place. You work for me. Nevertheless, your ass hasn’t started working yet.”
“For real, Luxury?” Aliyah whines.
“Drag the yellow calla lilies outside. Let’s cheer up this gloomy day.” Moving our flowers will give enough walking room for the occasional shopper who wants to ponder their choices for their loved ones or significant others.
Significant other. It's been a couple forevers since I've felt loved like that, and I’ve never been the recipient of flowers. Maybe if I look back, love never loved me.
Just shy of five feet tall and freckled, I guess it’s why no one takes me seriously. At least, that's how I felt, still feel, after my longest relationship ended with my boyfriend from NYU, Arnold, proposing to another womanduringour relationship. He said Tiffany was sophisticated and onhis level.Apparently, I didn’t inherit enough of my father’s genius.
What I did get was my father’s icky spray of freckles and height. Momma was vertically challenged too. The rest of me is all Momma. She loved flowers. And no matter how much it hurts to have never gotten them, except from my parents, I love them too.