DEIRA
"Deira, where did you put those hydrangeas?"
I looked up from the tiny card I was filling out to go with the bouquet I had just prepared. I scanned the shop for my coworker and realized she was in the back room, calling through the open door.
"Toward the back, in that little corner where we used to have the lemon trees," I called back. Then I returned to the card. I checked the message again from the customer's order sheet.
It read: "I'm an idiot. Please forgive me." I sighed. "Please forgive me" was a common theme in the cards we sent with our arrangements, one of the most popular along with "sorry for your loss" and various gushing declarations of love. People assumed working in a flower shop was an overwhelmingly positive experience, surrounded by beautiful flowers. But the truth was, people buy flowers for all sorts of reasons, and you get the desperate apologies and heart-wrenching sympathy along with all the lovey-dovey stuff. At least it was true that the flowers were beautiful. The whole shop was beautiful, a cozy little spot tucked in between an ice cream shop and a sandwich place in the old part of town, where the buildings all had a quaint vintage charm. Because it was such a small space, all the available room were covered with flowers, and it really did feel like you'd walked into some kind of fairy bower. Especially on days like today, when the sun was out and streamed through thick-paned windows in gentle beams.
I finished the card and added it to the bouquet. I hobbled over to place it on the shelf for deliveries. At my insistence, they'd given me a plastic boot for my fracture, even though the doctor had advised a proper cast. The boot was much more manageable, and it allowed me to return to work. With my situation, I couldn't afford to miss any days. The time I'd spent in the hospital was already going to put a strain on paying rent this month.
I found my eye wandering over the row of arrangements we had going out today and unbidden, my mind jumped back to last week, when that man-Cassius, his name was Cassius-had shown up in the hospital with a bouquet. After he'd left, and Dani had taken Makayla to get dinner, I'd had a chance to look over the bouquet. It was beautiful, and probably quite expensive.
I'd left it in the hospital when I checked out. As beautiful as they were, I didn't need a reminder of the situation I was in. There was no flower beautiful enough to distract me from the overwhelming fear that I would lose my daughter if I wasn't careful.
I'd taken the rental car, but only to drive us back from the hospital. After that, Dani had returned it. She said they'd been very confused when she arrived, because it had been rented for an entire month. I couldn't help myself from looking up how much that would have cost, and then really wished I hadn't. It would have been so helpful to keep the rental, but I didn't want to take any chances. He hadn't seemed to recognize me, and hopefully he would take my disappearance as a blessing. After all, he had been prepared to compensate me for time off work and even buy me a new car. Now he didn't have to worry about that, and would hopefully move on with his life.
I still worried, though, which is why Makayla and I were staying with Dani for a few weeks, and why I was now taking the bus everywhere instead of driving a far too nice rental car.
I finished my shift at the flower shop and took the bus to Makayla's school. It was too early to pick her up, so I went to the nearby public library and used one of their computers to do a job search. All my time now was taken up with riding the bus or looking for a new job. Not having a car added half an hour to my commute to the flower shop and 45 minutes to picking up Makayla from school. It was all a pain, and at least once a day I thought to myself that I was crazy for not keeping that rental car. Maybe I should have just come clean. Or maybe I should have just risked it all and let him buy me a new car. If he hadn't remembered me by now, maybe the danger had passed, and I was being excessively cautious for nothing.
I sighed and tried to focus on the job search. I found two possible openings and emailed them to myself, checked the time, and went to pick up Makayla. As we sat on the bench waiting for the bus, she climbed up onto her knees and examined the healing cuts on my face. She did this at least three times a day.
"Do they look okay?" I asked.
She nodded. "They look good. The doctors did a good job." She sat back down and seemed to get lost in thought. We still hadn't really talked about the accident.
"Makayla, were you worried when I was in the hospital?"
"Worried?" she asked, turning her hazel eyes to me. "I was a little worried. But Aunt Dani said you were okay. I'm happier now your bandages are gone."
She paused, and then added, "I missed you." She slipped her little hand in mine, and I held it tightly.
I'm not crazy, I thought to myself.I can't take even the smallest chance that she'd be taken away from me.