by Devon Ashley
Owen shook his head and rolled his eyes, but he took the chair two over so Brady could sit beside me. As the others took their seats – Matt on the other side of Sarah, leaving two empty seats for Lis and Rory (wherever they were) between him and Owen – they all grew quiet, like a force summoned them all at once to do so. Brady’s chair was rather close to mine, and with a huge, playful grin, he swept his arm over to rest atop the back of mine and asked, “So…Tessa. Tell us about yourself.”
The way he looked at me was just comical, and I burst out laughing at the toothy-grinned smile and crazy wide eyes. As I glanced around the circle, Sarah and Matt were doing it as well. Owen was watching me too, but he seemed lost in a daze, his mind really somewhere else. “Why do I suddenly feel like I’ve just sat in on one of those creepy cult circles where everybody is super excited to meet me and are about to chant my name and flash their spirit fingers?”
Brady widened his grin and waved his fingers in the air.
“Oh, we’re definitely crazy,” Sarah confirmed, “but it’s just shy of certifiable, so you’re good.”
“Thanks. That’s…comforting.”
“So where the hell have you been?” Sarah continued. With a pouty face, she added, “Our summers were so lonely.”
Mine, too…
“I’m sure you were just fine.” I followed their lead and took a few sips of my beer. “I was actually in L.A. and San Diego most of the time.”
“Couldn’t hop on a plane to come see us anymore?” she accused, but with a tone light enough to lack any actual malice behind it.
“I don’t know. I was a teenager then. I spent most of my summers doing volleyball camps and hanging out with friends. I just didn’t have the time to come across country anymore.”
Lies, lies, all lies. But I didn’t want to share the truth. The last thing I needed from anyone was pity.
“So what’d I miss?” I asked, hoping to get the attention off of me, before the lightweight that I was got loose lips and overshared what didn’t need to be known.
“Mandy moved away,” Sarah answered about another blonde girl we used to play with.
“And Matt moved in,” Brady added, sticking his arm across the table to fist bump his friend. “Trent went to Texas on a baseball scholarship. Usually he comes home for the summer, but his new girlfriend lives there, so I doubt we’ll see much of him anymore.”
I just kind of nodded, because truthfully, I only vaguely remembered Trent. We hardly crossed paths back then. Just then a girl with long black hair swept in out of nowhere and planted a kiss on Owen, surprising even him by the look of it. She said something quietly to him before reaching for a glass and pouring herself a beer. No one spoke, and I casually looked to Sarah, who flashed me a mild smile before using her glass as a reason not to speak. Guess this is Lis.
“Oh, hey,” Lis finally said to me, making me turn her way. Surprisingly, she had a kind smile and friendly light blue eyes, and her milky white skin was beautiful. “Sorry, I’m Lis. Who are you?”
“Tessa.”
We both acknowledged each other with a nod, but it was Brady who carried on the conversation. “Tessa used to spend her summers with us lowly folks, but when she became a teenager, she became too good for us.”
My mouth dropped open. “I did not!”
“Oh, that’s right,” he said in way of correction. “She dumped us for volleyball.” I closed my lips and flattened my smile, realizing he was going to continue giving me a hard time. “Tell us. Do you play volleyball now?”
“You mean like in school?” I asked. After a moment, I admitted, “No.”
“So you dumped us for nothing then?” Sarah chimed in, with just as much sarcasm smothering her voice.
“Not for nothing!” I paused, seeking something to add. Sheepishly, I added, “I got a great tan on the beach,” then hid my smile behind my glass the way Sarah did a moment ago. A few of them groaned. Someone threw a balled-up napkin at me, making me chuckle.
“You know you can get a tan here too,” Brady criticized. “We do have a lake.”
“Man, we need to go camping again,” Matt cut in.
Sarah’s face lit up. “Ooh! We haven’t done that in a long time. What do you say Tessa? You up for a weekend of campfires, swimming and poison ivy rashes?” she asked with a grin.
I felt the skin wrinkle as I lifted my forehead. “What exactly have you been doing in the woods around the campsite, huh?”
“Not what. Who,” Brady covered with a cough.
Sarah gasped, but wasn’t suffering from enough shock to keep from pitching one of the balled-up napkins his way. Matt, however, wasn’t amused by the joke’s implication.
The rest of the night was spent in normal conversation, but I found myself having to speak louder and louder to compete with the crowd as it thickened with the hours. Lis and Owen kept mostly to themselves. Rory never showed, leaving me, Sarah, Brady and Matt to carry on the conversation. I couldn’t help but notice that Matt spent a lot of time watching or trying to engage Sarah, who was either completely oblivious or kindly not encouraging him, confusing me even more about what those two were about.
The beer finally moved through me, so I snuck off to use the bathroom when Sarah left to grab another pitcher. In the bathroom I checked my phone to see if I had missed anything from Nana, but all I saw was a missed text message from Francie, my roommate from school checking in to make sure I got into town alright. I texted her quickly back, then tossed the phone into my bag again, completely ignoring the missed phone call from my mom. She never left messages, and like every other call I got from her the past six months, I pretended it never came in.
On the way back to the table, I spotted something odd on the far side of the pub. Weaving my way past several rowdy tables, I stood before the wall, where an endless amount of white linen napkins had been pinned to it by one of their corners. The words The Donkey’s Tale were inscribed on an arch above them.
I stretched one of the napkins open. Then I opened another, and another. Every single one of them had something written on them in black marker. Like story summarizations. One went on about mistaking his friend as something worth shooting when they were hunting drunk, another got drunk and shaved the hair on his chest to show the bat man signal. Someone got arrested for skiing behind a truck down Main Street at four in the morning. Another used a crane to lift his lawnmower over his overgrown hedges to cut them back.
“I see you’ve found our infamous wall of jackassery.” I didn’t have to turn around to know it was Brady standing behind me.
“What the hell is this?”
“The jackass hall of fame. Or at least those courageous enough to expose some of their dumbest moments for the pub’s viewing pleasure.”
That kind of surprised me. “You mean to tell me you fools actually write down the stupidest thing you’ve ever done and display it for all to see?”
“Actually, it has to be worthy of the jackass hall of fame to get pinned up here.”
I threw him a look over my shoulder, one that literally screamed, come on…
“Truly. There’s even a review board. Your story might even have to be backed up by credible witnesses if it’s outrageous enough.”
“Oh, come on!” I groaned. “No way that’s true. Why would someone even do this?”
Brady shrugged. “Notoriety? Maybe because everyone already knows about it anyways and getting it up on the wall is a way to rise above it? Everyone has their own reason.” I just rolled my eyes and shook my head, still fingering through the napkins. Suddenly his head was beside mine, the heat of his breath warming my ear. “And you get a really cool pub glass.”
I twisted my face slightly into his. “Yeah? You got one of those stashed somewhere?”
His smile was a little too wicked. “Maybe. You want one for yourself?”
Turning to face him, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Somehow I doubt anything I’ve ever done is juicy enough for this wall.”
Just when I thought the curl of his mouth couldn’t look more devious, it twisted just right. “Guess we’ll have to rectify that, won’t we?”
It took a few hours the next morning to get past the haze of The Donkey’s Tale. Somehow even Nana’s omelet couldn’t tempt me into eating. I didn’t drink so much I was drunk, but I so rarely drank that what I did have last night was enough to slam me with headaches and nausea all morning.
And Nana had no problem teasing me about it either, laughing as she accidentally dropped something made of metal or banged two pans together like cymbals. At the very least she made my cup of coffee and left me a small bowl of saltines, calling them the cure all to end all.
Once we opened the shop, I avoided the workroom for the morning hours, the strong floral scents too sharp for my senses. I could still smell them up front, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as being in the back. So Nana created the arrangements while I tended to the customers and watered all the plants for sale on the showroom floor. A few times I stepped out front to get some fresh air, but it was so hot I was fast to retreat back into the chilly air.
By ten I was feeling much better, and by the time lunch came around, I was starving, swallowing down my brisket-topped baked potato in nothing flat. I was standing at the checkout counter when Nana came in, trying to figure out where the heck this particular order for E. Farrow came from and why there wasn’t a payment to go along with it. Also, it was put into the calendar with blue font, when all I’d ever seen before was black.
“Nana? Can you tell me what’s up with this order? I want to send it to the printer, but there’s no payment information.”
She took one look at the screen and let out a knowing, “Oh. It’s time again. Alright, why don’t you come to the back with me? I need to show you something.”
I was confused, but I followed her, taking my lunch plate and temporarily disposing of it in one of the work sinks. Nana bent down and reached for something in the cabinet below. She pulled out a large fire-proof box and opened it on the island. Coming up beside her, I spotted several large Ziplocs that each contained folded paperwork and a name scribbled on the outside using permanent marker. She flipped through until she found the one labeled E. Farrow.
“Everyone in this box has a standing account with us. They’ve paid in advance for a certain number of deliveries to be made without having to come in.”
“Oh.” With a little bit of humor, I asked, “Can’t remember their anniversaries, so they leave it to you to handle for them?”
Nana tried to give me a smile, but it was weak. And rather sad.
“No, Tessie. These particular gentlemen have paid in advance because they’ve all passed away.”
My body might’ve felt stunned by that, but my mind was free to feel like a shit for what I just said. “Oh,” I replied dumbly, not sure what I could say otherwise.
“All of them have been entered into the system manually and set to repeat so I don’t forget, and since they’ve already paid, there will be nothing for you to process.”
“They’re going to all be blue like that?” I asked, finding my voice.
“Yes.” Nana opened Mr. Farrow’s bag. She unfolded the paperwork and set the rest aside. The top sheet was some sort of spread sheet she was keeping that was handwritten, showing all the deliveries she had made already, the type of arrangement, and the remaining balance in the account. Motioning to the paperwork off to the side, Nana added, “Each of these gentlemen have already requested their floral choices, the specific dates they’d like the deliveries to be made, even written all their notes in advance.”
I spotted the sealed envelopes left inside the bag. The one on top had My Dearest Doris written on it, a sticky note attached to it, stating birthday and tomorrow’s date. Someone’s husband loved her enough to be with her even after death, continuing to celebrate the important dates year after year.
“I think I’m going to cry.” No, scratch that. I was definitely going to cry, and my stinging eyes were quick to release not just a tear or two, but a steady stream. Nana looked like she was about to tear up too, but she was used to this kind of thing.
“I see you keep that in a fire-proof box,” I noted aloud, sweeping tears off my cheeks.
Nana let out a long sigh. “I could get over losing a lot of things in a fire, but it would absolutely break my heart should something happen to these particular orders. I’m also fearful of it getting stolen, which is why I keep it unlocked. Anyone can open it up here and realize there’s nothing worth taking.
“Anyway, you can look through the paperwork if you’d like, but I know by heart that Mr. Farrow likes for his wife to receive her favorite flowers on her birthday, tulips. So I’m going to go get them.” She patted my hand lightly before disappearing into the refrigerator.
I thumbed my way through the other bags in the box, reading their names one by one. How spectacular it must’ve been to receive one of these. Did their wives know? Or were they completely surprised by the first delivery? Did it make them feel loved that they were thought of from beyond the grave, or did it only serve to sadden them and remind them of what was lost?
Regardless, I couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to love someone so much that they actually thought to set this up before it was too late. I hoped I found someone like that one day.
I helped Nana set up the order and adjust her paperwork to process the current arrangement. Then she placed the note off to the side to be tucked in tomorrow, when her courier Charles came in to deliver her orders. He was just a college kid like me, doing this on the side so he’d have extra spending cash to burn outside of school. Funny how I never thought to do that, seeing as how I grew up in this shop. I had simply waited tables at night in a chain restaurant. Delivering flowers would have been right up my alley.
The rest of Friday flew by. I fielded a few texts that night from Sarah, asking how I was liking it here. She was working at the pub and invited me to come over, but I lied and said I was helping Nana in the store late doing monthly flowery type things, inventory and such. It wasn’t that I wasn’t up for hanging out with her, but I had only been in town a few days. I still felt drained, like I hadn’t been able to catch my breath yet. All I wanted to do was go sink myself into a long hot bath.
Saturday was busier. Who’d have thought? I’d imagine lots of people would’ve ordered their flowers during the week, but it seemed a ton of people forgot until they spent a few hours with their loved ones and all of a sudden ding-ding-ding!
What? Our anniversary is today? Your birthday is Tuesday?
I had to handle several frantic customers who didn’t realize something important was happening and needed their orders pronto. We could do it, but it wasn’t cheap to make us deal with their ineptitude last minute. But like Nana said, the ones who never learned were the shop’s best source of income. And as I saw the same day delivery fees add up, I witnessed it first-hand.
The volume of internet orders increased too, so much I only dealt with the ones that needed attention in the next two days. I left the rest for Sunday afternoon, once we had returned from church and brunch with Nana’s friends at the café a few businesses over. I was down in the shop processing the orders when a girl a few years younger than me rang the doorbell. I called to Nana back in the workroom that I would get it, then went to unlock the door for her.
Her name was Mary and her ailing grandmother was back in the hospital with heart problems. I could tell she’d been crying earlier, so her grandmother’s prognosis must’ve been discouraging. I was in the process of helping her choose what to give her when the wind chime warned me of another unexpected visitor. Mary looked back, taking way too long to turn her attention off Brady and back onto me. Amused, I flashed her a smile once she did.
Alright…I could admit it. The guy was a real looker, and cocky enough to know it. Even during that last summer when he was fifteen and beginning to develop his muscles I caught notice. But I had been thirteen an
d he had hardly paid attention to me. Those summers before when our whole group was hanging out were slipping away. Even two years age difference was enough to segregate our childhood playmates down the middle. My last summer in Campbellsville I mostly spent with Sarah and Owen because we were all the same age.
Now all of a sudden it was the opposite. Owen, the one guy who had been there all along, was aloof, but I had somehow caught the attention of Brady again. Go figure.
At first he came over and leaned on the counter at the opposite end, flashing smiles when we both looked his way. When it was clear my eighteen year old customer was getting flustered and flushing pink, I kindly said, “I’ll be with you in a minute, sir. You can have a seat if you’d like.” And since the girl was still staring at him, I silently mouthed the word go so he’d take the hint already.
He flattened his smile and pointed to the loveseat, taking off for it.
“Sorry,” I told her, “so you were thinking lilies?”
“Yeah. My grandma loves lilies.” I began flipping through the binder to show her some examples of what we could create, and while I did, she took another peek at Brady.
“I suppose a guy like that has a girlfriend, huh?”
I wasn’t entirely sure she meant for me to answer, or to really even hear that, but I felt I should probably deter her from wanting him. “Probably several,” I answered, hoping it would convince her not to bother. Not that she didn’t seem nice…but her age was barely shy of jailbait.
When I finished her order and sent her on her way – not without a long look at Brady on her way out – I closed and locked the door behind her.
“Look at you being all sin and temptation to the high school girl,” I mocked as I passed him on the couch.
I heard his feet follow along. “I can’t help it if they look.”