Bloom

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Bloom Page 20

by Grey, Marilyn


  Vasili: Yes. I’m really really sorry. I have something planned too. See you tomorrow. I’ll call tonight at 9.

  “What’s wrong?” Ella said, still smiling at the bird.

  “He can’t get together today. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him.”

  “Do you look like that when you don’t see me for a few days?”

  “Why, of course. I have a photo shoot tomorrow that I wasn’t supposed to tell you about, but I need an assistant and Derek said I could ask you.”

  “My brother?”

  “He’s proposing tomorrow at sunrise. He wanted to do it on the island he took her to before, but it didn’t work out. So he’s doing it at Rock’s State Park in Maryland. It’s going to be outrageously gorgeous at sunrise. There’s a cliff that’s super high and overlooks all the trees.”

  “My brother? He’s afraid of heights.”

  “I don’t know. That’s the plan.”

  Birds chirped outside the open kitchen window loud enough to distract us. We looked at each other, then walked to the window.

  I leaned into the screen and peered around outside. Nothing. Ella slid the back door open and walked out to the deck.

  I followed.

  She pointed to the window sill. “Look.”

  “They are looking for the baby.”

  “Wow. I can’t believe it.”

  Two birds flapped down, chirping frantically, and swooped right into the kitchen. Ella and I ran inside after them.

  “Watch out!” I ducked and pulled Ella down as the birds flew around the kitchen.

  Eventually they calmed down and landed on the counter. The baby tried to jump out of the box a few times, but failed.

  Gavin appeared from around the corner. He pressed Adelaide into his chest and looked back and forth from us to the birds. “What the—”

  “Shh...” Ella shooed him away.

  He shook head. “What’s going on?” He stepped closer and the birds flew back outside, leaving the wee one to fend for himself. “You’re not keeping a bird, are you?”

  Ella laughed. “Quick, Sarah. Take him back to the nest.” She shut the back door and smiled at me. “I’ve never seen anything like that. I guess when you’re meant to be with someone you’ll find a way.”

  “Oh, nice try.” I held the box in front of me and took the bird back to his nest. Within seconds the mama bird came back.

  For a half-hour I sat by the window and watched them. Chirping and hopping around. So cute. Somehow within that time their simple lives, bundled up in their roofless home, inspired me to fly from my nest and help others.

  I left the house a few minutes later and drove to the city. Without a destination, I walked and smiled at every stranger without wondering what they’d think of me. I twirled around street signs, skipped down the brick sidewalks, and stopped to smell every single flower along the way. Every homeless person I passed begged me for a dollar, I gave them each twenty and stopped in a sandwich place, bought a few lunches, and passed them out to the same hungry people. Before I was too concerned about whether they’d spend my money on drugs instead of food. This time I tossed all that aside and gave everyone all I had.

  I wore a hat to shield my skin from the sun, but at certain points I tipped my head back to soak in the rays of warmth.

  It felt so good. So, so good.

  Before getting back into my car, I walked into a cute Asian restaurant and peered around. I spotted a young family with four kids climbing over and under the table, then went to the back.

  “Excuse me,” I said to a waitress.

  “Yes ma’am?”

  I whispered, “I’d like to pay for that family’s meal and make sure they get big desserts.” I pointed behind me.

  She nodded. “You know them?”

  “No, no.” I smiled. “But that makes it even more special, right?”

  She scrunched her face and took my card. “That will be $55.78.”

  “Charge $100 and tell them to get anything they want for dessert.”

  The poor girl seemed so confused as she charged my card and fiddled with her apron. I reassured her that I was trying to be kind to others. She nodded her head in an awkward circle as I thanked her and turned to leave.

  At the table, the mother sighed as she pulled the baby into her lap and tried to get the others to sit still. When she turned to help one of the children up from under the table, the baby grabbed her plate and flung it off the table. Bits of fried rice landed on my skirt.

  “Oh, lands!” she said, standing with the baby on her hip. “I’m so sorry.”

  I smiled and picked the plate up as a waitress came by with a broom.

  “Life is messy, huh?” I said. “And it’s beautiful that way.”

  She switched the baby to her other hip and glanced at her husband. He shrugged and looked down.

  “Enjoy dessert,” I said, then walked outside.

  Exhaust fumes battled the fresh spring air as I looked up at the clouds and inhaled. A group of Mennonite girls walked by laughing as a flock of birds flew overhead, their arrow pointing toward the sun. The tall, historic buildings. The perfect blend of people. The vast array of smells. The cars with “I Heart City Life” bumper stickers. Ahhhh … I closed my eyes and stored the memory in my mind.

  “Life, I love you.”

  The next morning I woke up at 3:30am to the sound of Ella tapping my nightstand. Two-and-a-half hours later we were hiding behind a bush as Derek and Miranda had a picnic on top of the rocky overlook. Red and white checkered blanket. Orange juice in wine glasses. Baked oatmeal and fruit. All the while, a golden light beamed through treetops. Thousands of trees, full of green life, surrounded them. He glanced our way when she wasn’t looking. I nudged Ella, whose grin lit up the scene more than the sun itself.

  He knelt on one knee. I zoomed in with my camera, clicking as much as possible, capturing every angle I could. She wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling and crying while he pressed his hand into her back, the ring still in his other hand. With a comfortable grin, his eyes glazed over, but no tears fell. She pulled back and grabbed his hands, then flung her arms around his neck again. He laughed and kissed her cheek until she pulled away and answered his question with a kiss.

  Ella bounced up and down, sniffing and shaking her head.

  “Let’s go,” I whispered. “I got plenty of great shots. He wanted us to sneak off and keep the pictures a surprise.”

  Ella clasped her hands together and brought them to her lips.

  “Come on, Cupid. Before you have an aneurism.”

  Thirthy Four

  Do you know what it’s like to spend years building your life, truly enjoying it even amidst the twists and turns, only to wake up one day and realize everything you once knew is gone? Lying there in that hospital bed for months, hearing the pretty nurses talk about their dates and husbands, I began to die. Right there, wrapped up in bandages and unable to move, a piece of me wilted. And another. And another. Until I finally wheeled outside for the first time and prepared to go home—to Ella’s house. Dead.

  I watched Vasili park his car outside of the coffee shop on Chestnut Street and that hospital experience seemed like another life. Another person. So disconnected from me that I wondered if I really did endure those long nights or if I floated by as an onlooker. How did I get here?

  Alive.

  I still didn’t know how to greet Vasili since we both revealed our feelings, even hugging him made me want to hide under the table. So I stayed in my seat and smiled as he rushed toward me and pulled a chair around so we were sitting close enough to touch elbows. Warmth radiated my body as he rubbed the back of his neck and laughed. I tapped my fingers on the table and blushed.

  “So,” he sa
id. “How are you, friend? How was the shoot for Ella’s brother?”

  “Oh, it was perfect.” I lit up inside. Most people never asked about my photography sessions.

  “Can’t wait to see the pictures.”

  I pulled out my phone. “I saved one on here.” I leaned toward him. We both hovered over the screen. “This was my favorite. She reached up to hug him after he asked. I love the way the su—”

  “The sun is reflecting on the ring in his hand.” He looked closer. “And wow, the way the light trims them both. Oh, and the foreground with the picnic blanket. It looks—”

  “Surreal. I know. It’s amazing.”

  “I think it’s pretty amazing how we’ve been finishing each other’s sentences since we met. Right ... friend?”

  I gently hit his arm and looked down. “Okay, friend. I have a photo shoot planned today for our friendly date. It’s really meaningful to me.” I pulled an 8x10 picture from my purse. “This is a self-portrait I did when I was living with Ella. She was walking around one day and I caught her as I was heading to the cemetery. I love cemetery photography. We did a few artsy shots of her, then I did this.”

  He analyzed the picture of me. My long blonde hair curled and sprawled around my head as I lay on the vibrant grass. A gravestone, behind my head, was blurred so you couldn’t read the name. I held a pile of dirt in my hand and had sprinkled it around my torso. My face, serene and austere, tilted up toward the camera.

  “We did it for fun,” I said. “There’s no profound meaning behind it, but I feel like it has meaning now. When I took those pictures of Anastasia I thought they were the most beautiful pictures I’ve ever taken in my life. They weren’t photoshopped and manipulated. I didn’t smooth over the skin and brighten the eyes. It was so real. A dying child embracing life.”

  He nodded, probably imagining her face.

  “I want that person I was before this to be dead. The more I try to hold on to her and wish I could be her again, the more locked inside myself I get. I feel alive again, Vasili. I feel so good. I want a picture of me, this new me, walking away from the grave.”

  “I like that idea.” He paused and held his chin. “I was just thinking today about how so many people say things like, ‘Oh, you’re always the same person underneath.’ I know I’ve probably been guilty of saying that, but I don’t believe it anymore. I think a person can endure something or meet someone so life-changing that it not only changes his life, but his entire self. Heart, mind, soul—all of it becomes new.”

  I wanted to wrap my fingers around his and feel his skin against my lips. Strange as it sounds, the way he talked about life excited me. He awakened so much passion inside of me that I didn’t know existed.

  Internally, I fanned myself and turned my gaze from his intriguing eyes.

  Regardless of my flaws and lacking curves, he made me feel like a woman. And I think that made me notice his masculine features even more.

  “I have something I want to do with you first.” He stood and pulled my chair. “Do we have a few hours before heading off to your grave?”

  He laughed at himself. I shook my head and slipped my arms through my jacket as he held it behind me.

  “How did you propose to Natalie?” I said as we walked outside.

  “Random.”

  “Yeah. I don’t know where that came from.”

  “She said to me, ‘I want that one,’ and I bought it.”

  “Let’s take mine,” I pointed to my car. “Camera stuff in there. You can drive though.” We stood by the passengers door. “But you loved her.”

  “I did.” He sucked in his top lip and took my keys. “Didn’t you love James?”

  I nodded. “It was more like a friend though.”

  “Me too.” He opened the door and I sat down. “Just like us.” He leaned in and winked as he started to shut my door. “Right ... friend?”

  He sat down, put the keys in the ignition, and flung a black scarf on my lap.

  “What’s this?” I picked it up and looked for a hint.

  “Put it on.”

  “Why?” I wrapped it around my neck.

  “No.” He laughed. “Blindfold yourself.”

  “Oooh.” I placed it over my eyes. “An adventure.”

  “Okay.” The car finally stopped moving and the radio turned off. “Now. In the most friend-ish way possible ... I’m gonna have to hold that hand of yours.”

  I smiled. “Mmmhmm.”

  “Wouldn’t want you to fall, of course.”

  No need to worry about that, I thought. Already did.

  The car door opened and the sunlight warmed my skin.

  “We won’t be in the sun for long,” he said as I stood.

  His hand rested on my shoulder as the door shut. Judging by the sounds of many cars passing nearby, we were around some kind of busy street.

  He cupped my hand in his and pulled me into him. I tried to suppress the giddy little girl inside and for some reason that equaled me licking my lips a thousand times.

  We walked for a minute or so, up a hill, then he placed my hand on a cool cement block.

  “Hold on to that as we walk.” He held my other hand.

  I wanted to see his face so bad. Cars passed, tossing sharp gusts of air in our direction as we walked. My hair whipped around my face and stuck to my lips.

  He stopped and turned me toward the cement wall, then whispered in my ear, “Are we in an ugly place?”

  “What do you mean? I don’t know where we are.”

  “Tell me where we are. Listen. Smell. Find a way.”

  The cars continued to whoosh behind us. When they stopped for a second I listened for other sounds. Birds. Geese. The sound of rustling leaves and a train in the distance. I inhaled. And again. Couldn’t place the smell. Somewhat like aged leaves and soil-covered rocks. The breeze tugged at my hair again.

  “Is it ugly or beautiful?” he said.

  “Beautiful.”

  “Okay, next place.”

  We walked up a soft hill, down a hard hill, and stopped. The smell grossed me out.

  “Is this an ugly place?” I said, holding my nose.

  “Feel it out.”

  I let go of my nose and held my breath as I took a few steps. “Am I going to trip on something?”

  “Free and clear.”

  I kicked my feet each time I took a step, trying to feel out the ground. Seemed like pavement, mixed with gravel. Smelled like rotten eggs mixed with cow manure.

  He touched my shoulder. “Step up here.”

  I did, then knelt down. Rows of cool metal lined up beneath us. They seemed to go on for a while.

  I stood. “Are we on train tracks?”

  “Yep.” He took my hand and led me off the bumpy rails. “Wasn’t expecting the skunk though.”

  I laughed.

  He escorted me through sticks and rocks and what felt like a dirt path, then helped me sit down.

  “Sit here for a while. In silence. Then tell me what you feel.”

  I leaned back on my hands. The chilly rock under me must’ve been big enough to hold both of us, because he was sitting beside me. I could feel his arm against mine and it made me want to move closer.

  I listened to the bubbling sounds of a rolling brook. Reminded me of Ella’s house. Birds chirped and fluttered about. Trees rustled in the breeze. Off in the distance I heard a woodpecker going to town. The sweet earthy scents filled my nose every time a breeze swept by. I inhaled to get more, but I was getting used to the smell.

  Nature had its own orchestra. Every sound contributed to a masterful symphony. This place sounded like a soft piano. Spring Morning, I’d call it.

  Ten minutes later Vasili took my hand and said, “How do you feel?”

&nb
sp; “Beautiful.” I smiled. “I feel beautiful.”

  Nature’s melody was replaced by a new one. As we

  drove I listened to the clicking sounds as we drove on the highway. The rush of wind and smell of exhaust fumes. I let my hand sail out the window like the wing of an airplane. The pressure forced my arm back and felt so good.

  Taking away my vision made every other sensation more intense. Especially when Vasili touched me. I wanted to kiss him, but I still feared a real future with him.

  He parked, then led me to a door and opened it.

  “This,” he said, “you’ll love.”

  As soon as I entered I heard a blender buzzing. The scent of coffee and books immediately gave it away.

  “We’re at Barnes and Noble,” I said. “The books smell even better today.”

  I rushed into the store, almost forgetting to let Vasili lead me. I wondered what people would think, but quickly realized I didn’t care. He stopped and set my hand on the shelf. It’s smooth wood holding hundreds of books. I could see it in my imagination as though my eyes were opened.

  “Pick one,” he said. “Pick the most interesting story on this shelf.”

  I ran my fingers along the spines. “Just randomly? How will I know of I can’t see them?”

  “Ask me to describe them.”

  I picked one from the shelf, peeled back the cover and sniffed the pages. “Mmmm.”

  He laughed. “That one is about a lawyer who kills his wife and takes on the case, against the one falsely accused.”

  I put it back and chose another. The smooth cover and pages beckoned me to smell it again, but I refrained for the sake of maintaining a smidgen of normalcy.

  I didn’t realize how much I judged books by their covers until now. I couldn’t choose one without asking questions about the interior. And even then, it was hard to pick one.

  I saw his point.

  “Wait there,” he said. “Grab that one.”

  I pulled out a book. “This one?”

 

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