FLOWERS

by G Kinman

     Melanie Delaney bought fresh flowers from Sean Welles's florist shop in her neighborhood every week.  "I have to have them," she told him, " as much as I have to have food."

     "Better than going to a psychiatrist or an allergy doctor," he said, wrapping the flowers in plastic and green paper. Melanie watched as he selected a ribbon from the array of rolls, cut a length, tied it around the wrapped stems and carefully made a bow.  "It's the same color as your dress."  He smiled as he handed her the bundle of white and yellow daises, two purple irises, baby's breath and a red rose.   The ribbon, a deep pink, did indeed match her dress.   When she took the flowers, she felt her face matched the ribbon, too.
 
     The next week she went in for her flowers, she said, "I'm just curious, what did you mean about a psychiatrist and an allergy doctor?"

     "My fiancee is going to a therapist, and I'm going to an allergy doctor."

     "Surely, you're not allergic to flowers?" she joked.

     "Nope.  Cats.  You don't have a cat, I know.  I'd break out."

     "I don't have any pets.  Flowers act that way for me.  But, I've heard if you have a pet, you're supposed to live longer, and it keeps you from being lonely." 

     "Yeah, that's what my fiancee says."  This time, he grabbed the first ribbon and yanked it from the roll and tied it in a knot, then thrust the flowers at her.

     During the week Melanie ran the scene over in her mind.  What had she said to upset him?  Then she remembered the backs of his hands had been all red and scaly.  Allergy?  Had he been around a cat? Not my problem, she thought, and resolved to keep her conversation strictly business and try again to restrain herself from saying the first thing that came into her mind, a failing she wasn't good at controlling.

     The next time she went in for flowers, Sean apologized. "Yeah, sorry.  Broke out in a terrible rash, hate people seeing my hands like that.  Usually wear gloves.  Salve is good, but I didn't have any left.  So, anyhow, sorry, you just caught me at a bad time.  Look, I'm going to give you the flowers for free. As an apology.  Okay?  Feel real bad about how I acted.  See, my fiancee," he started to say but another customer came in.  Dirk Birdum.

     Dirk was a pleasant enough person, good looking, had a nice job, everything mothers approve of, especially her mother, Melanie thought. Except he had no personality. At least none she could discern.  She knew he wanted to ask her out, but she never gave him the chance. She sighed.  Always something wrong with a man.  Maybe she was too picky.  The flowers made her heart leap every time she looked at them.  That's the way, she thought, she should feel about the right man.  

     She grabbed her flowers even before Sean picked out a ribbon, and left.  Her last view was of the surprised look on the two men's faces.

     Next time, it was she, who voiced the apology.   

     "It's okay if you like him," Sean said.   

     She gasped.

     "I could tell," Sean went on, horrifying her even more. "He's a nice guy and asked a lot of questions about you.  He wanted to know where you lived, but I just said all I knew is that it was somewhere in the neighborhood."

     Melanie  felt her face flush.  Sean kept talking and further misinterpreting her actions.

     "No!" she shouted.  "I don't like him.  At all."

     Sean looked at her for a moment, then, wordlessly, selected her flowers. Baby roses.  Red, pink and white and all shades in between. Even some with darker edges that took her breath away because they were so beautiful.

     She shook her head as it was more money than she budgeted for flowers.   

     But he charged her the same as usual, telling her to be sure to put aspirin and soda in the vase, he'd already cut the stems
under water, and they'd last for almost a week.  She barely heard a word he said.

     She did enjoy the roses though, and remembered Sean's smiling face when he handed her the flowers.  She bent to smell the fragrance every time she went into the kitchen and marveled at the perfect color of each petal, and the way they bloomed.  Sean was right. They were better than a psychiatrist or an allergy doctor.


     She resolved not to ask Sean any more personal questions. However, next time, he wore white cotton gloves but she could see the inflammation from the rash around his wrists, and on one side of his neck like a large birthmark.

     "Yeah," he said, catching her staring, "the cat again."

     "Cat?  I thought you said you were allergic to cats."

     "I am, but my fiancee's got one and we went away for the weekend.  She brought the cat."

     "How could she do that?"  The question jetted out before Melanie realized how terrible it was.

     Sean didn't answer the question, all he said was, "That guy who likes you--Dirk. He's the one who gave her the cat."

     "Does the rash hurt very much?"

     "With the salve on it, doesn't feel good, but it's not bad. Kinda hard to work with gloves on."  He laughed.  "What'll it be today? I've got some yellow marguerites. Know you like those the best."   Sean kept talking, but all Melanie could think about was the faceless, heartless fiancee.

     "Does your fiancee know you're allergic to cats?"  She knew it was the dumbest of questions, but she had to know just how tupid the fiancee was.

     "Yeah.  She keeps hoping I'll get over it. That's what her therapist told her.  It's all psychosomatic."

     "Her therapist said that?"

     "Met the guy once.  I think he likes my fiancee and wants to get rid of me."  Sean laughed but Melanie didn't hear any mirth in it.

     "Maybe it's not him, but Dirk who wants to get rid of you if he's the one who gave your fiancee the cat."  Melanie said, possibilities racing around in her head.

     "Nah.  Dirk likes you.  That's why he gave away his cat. He thinks you don't like them."   

     "I don't like him, is what it is."  She gritted her teeth. Sean and Dirk were still discussing her? Dirk didn't know anything about her, how could he even say that?

     Sean turned from the cooler where he selected the flowers. "Oh, speak of the devil."

     Dirk pushed open the door, a big smile on his handsome face.

     "I think you should take back your cat," Melanie told him before he was barely across the threshold.

     Both Dirk and Sean halted and stared at her.

     "Look at his hands.  It's all your fault."

     "I  can't take it back now.  My landlady won't let me."

     "But you live in the same building as my fiancee." Sean paused with the cooler door open.

     "Women are better with cats than I am,"  Dirk said looking back and forth at them as though they were vipers about to attack.

     Melanie, now, felt sorry for the cat.  It had lived with Dirk, Mr. No-Personality, and now it might have to live with Sean who was allergic to it.

     "Something has to be done," she said.

     Dirk moved away from her.  "Doesn't your fiancee want it anymore?"

     Sean pulled off a glove.  The back of his hand looked red and raw, covered with globs of white salve.  "Yeah, she does, but I don't."

     "She told me she loves cats."

     "I guess she does."  Sean let the cooler door slam and went to the counter where he began wrapping the flowers, his head bent lower than usual.

     "Surely there's someone who will take the cat," Melanie said. "I'll try to find a home for it."  What was she saying?  Giving away someone else's cat? None of her business. Why was she getting involved? If only she could learn to keep her mouth shut.
       
     Next week the shop's closed sign hung on the door.  Melanie stood outside looking in for any sign of activity. Only a few flowers sat in the cooler.  She wondered if Sean was ill, maybe taken to emergency for a monumental attack of cat rash.

     At that moment Sean came from the back of the store, smiling, and unlocked the door for her.

     "Come in, come in.  I expected to be back before you came."

     "What happened?"  He looked all right.  His hands and neck had healed.

      "I broke up with my fiancee.  Boy, was I stupid!   She was more in love with the cat than she was with me."  He shook his head.

     Melanie didn't know whether to express sadness at the loss of his fiancee or happiness that his rash was gone.   

     "Got a load of fresh flowers in back.  Want to help me put them in the case?  I'll pay you in flowers." Before Melanie could react, he said, "Hey, maybe dinner afterwards. Okay?"

     For once the words didn't rush out. She could only nod as her heart leapt.

     ******

Dr. Gay Toltl Kinman has eight award nominations for her writing; several short stories in American and English magazines and anthologies; eight children's books; a Y.A. gothic novel; two adult mysteries; several short plays produced; over one hundred and fifty articles in professional journals and newspapers; co-edited two non-fiction books; and writes three book review columns, and articles for two newspapers.