Snarky Teenager stepped back to admire her work, her skirt hiked up so that she was almost mooning Elly. Who wears a skirt to a wedding delivery, Elly thought.
“Of course you can’t see them! I know. I’m, like, so amazing.”
Elly laughed. “Could you be amazing at pulling your skirt down? I’m going blind over here. Help me finish with the garland and we can head inside.”
Snarky Teenager halfheartedly yanked her skirt down before tying a hemp garland across the aisle. Elly stood up and brushed off her khaki pants. Smiling, she pushed the damp hair off her face and hummed quietly to herself. She stopped when she realized that Snarky Teenager was staring at her. This alarmed Elly. “What are you staring at? Aren’t you supposed to be misting the plants?”
“Nothing.” A sly grin crawled across the teenager’s face.
“No really, do I have soil on my face?” Elly looked around for a mirror. There was a reflective statue across the park that she could walk to….
“No, really. It’s just …,” Snarky Teenager smiled. “You’re sweaty and you’re smiling. What I mean is, you’re never happy when you’re sweating. You’re always a snappy, miserable beast.”
“This is getting better and better,” Elly mumbled as she quickly fashioned a decorative wreath out of curly willow.
“Elly.”
Elly looked up, surprised. Snarky Teenager actually sounded quite sincere.
“I just wanted to say I’m glad to see that Keith is making you so happy. If you’re smiling when you are covered in sweat, then he must be doing something right.”
Elly couldn’t hide the blush bubbling up from below her cheeks. Yes, he was definitely doing something right.
Snarky Teenager began jumping from foot to foot. “Okay, enough of that—is it groomsmen time yet? Is it?”
Elly laughed. “Okay, okay, we’re going. Try to keep the hormones in check. I don’t want to be responsible for any sexual harassment suits. You know, against you.”
Snarky Teenager nodded. “Gotcha.”
Once they were in the sculpture museum, Snarky Teenager bolted for the groomsmen, boutonnieres in hand, while Elly followed a winding cement hallway to a room washed in natural light. It reeked of patchouli and incense. Three women stood clustered around a dilapidated easel mirror, all staring at themselves. Elly crept in silently and placed the bridal bouquet—an asymmetrical masterpiece, filled with olives and olive leaves, tiny oranges, succulents, plum grapes, and dripping moss—on the desk. She turned to leave, coughing awkwardly in the thick air.
“Elly?” The bride turned around, her pretty brown eyes wide with concern.
Elly smiled at her. “Oh, Jonna. You look beautiful.” Elly repeated the speech she had said to so many: “I don’t know that I have ever seen such a stunning bride, and I see a lot of brides.” Elly bit the inside of her cheek. She meant every word, each time she said it. Each bride was beautiful. In the back of her mind, however, she knew which bride had been the most beautiful. Lucia, the woman who had married her ex-husband. Thinking her name didn’t cause her spasms of pain like it used to. Now Lucia’s name elicited nothing more than annoying twinge in her heart. It was liberating. Jonna walked toward her, a gorgeous muslin dress shifting loosely around her body. Elly smiled and placed a crown of rust-orange waxflower on her honey curls. Jonna was a true hippie, ripe and earthy. She had been so laid-back throughout the process, and Elly had loved working with her. The mother, not so much. But Jonna had been simply lovely.
The bride wrapped Elly up in a quick hug. “Thank you so much for everything you did for us. My bouquet is … oh …,” she clapped her hand to her mouth, “oh my goddess. Are those oranges?”
Elly looked at up at her, concealing her mild annoyance. “Yes, remember that we talked about having fruit accents to make it a truly organic bouquet? And those are organic oranges, the perfect color to accent your crown and your bouquet. I bought them straight from a farmer’s market as you suggested….”
Moving so fast she made Elly jump, the bride flung herself away from the bouquet and pressed up against the cement wall. “I’m allergic to oranges! I can’t even touch them! Oh my goddess, get them away from me!” The mother of the bride ran to her daughter and scowled at Elly. “I should have known the help would be useless! Jonna can’t have a physical breakdown on her wedding day! How could you possibly dream of putting oranges in the bouquet? What is wrong with you?” She gently rested her hand against Jonna, who was hyperventilating.
“Can’t believe oranges …,” gulp, gasp, “oranges on my wedding day….”
Elly took a step back and put her hands up. “Everyone calm down. I can remove the oranges with no problem.” She tried to look sympathetic even though inside she was fuming, “Jonna, why didn’t you tell me that you were allergic to oranges?”
Jonna shrugged, her flower crown pushed up against her face. “I thought you would just know. I’m sorry.” With a smile that was as real as her tan, Elly reached for the bouquet and tenderly withdrew the oranges, one by one, their fat heads bouncing on tiny wooden sticks. Then she removed all the flowers that the oranges had touched. She looked up at her bride, who was literally clinging to her mother with terror. Elly’s stomach clenched uncomfortably and she felt guilty for causing Jonna panic on her wedding day. But really, didn’t you think it might be important to tell me that you are deathly allergic to a certain fruit when you requested fruit in your bridal bouquet? Elly’s hip bumped the table and one of the removed oranges rolled off it, bouncing in the bride’s direction.
Jonna screamed and climbed on the table. “Don’t let it touch me! Mom!”
The mother pressed her body over her daughter’s as if shielding her from a bullet. It would have been admirable if it hadn’t been an orange.
Elly picked it up and put it back on the table. “Everyone is going to be okay,” she said, more to herself than to them. She took a deep breath and centered herself, staring at the bouquet that now had some large, gaping holes in it. She pulled floral wire out of her apron and stretched one of the strands of plum grapes down its length. She wrapped the wire around it, securing the grapes to the stick, cut it into a few small pieces and then began arranging them over the hole where the oranges had been. In a stray bucket, she found some extra olive leaves and tucked them around the looser stems. Taking her spray bottle, she misted down the entire bouquet and then wiped down the areas around where the oranges had been.
Jonna, her mother, and an exhausted-looking maid of honor watched her with wide, panicky eyes. Elly gently set the bouquet back onto the table. “There. That should be perfect. You can’t even tell something is missing, and the grapes still give it that organic, harvest feeling.”
Jonna climbed down from the table and crept forward hesitantly. “This might be a lot to ask, but is there any way that we could still have some orange in this? I mean, I know we took out the oranges but I would still like that orange color….”
Elly silenced her with a raised eyebrow.
Jonna gave an apologetic shrug. “Actually, you know what? I think this will be fine.”
Her mother looked at her with disbelief. “But honey … if you want orange….”
Jonna waved her hand. “I think that the goddess inside is telling me that orange is not in the plan today. Let’s trust her kind spirit. The oranges can return their energy to the Earth now.”
The goddess would not be the only one telling her that there would be no orange today. Jonna looked down at the bouquet, and the smile Elly was waiting for finally crept across her face. “Actually, it’s perfect. More perfect that I could have ever imagined.” She reached out and pulled Elly into a tight hug while Elly held her orange-tainted hands out in front of her, not wanting to touch the bride. She cleared her throat.
“I’m so glad. Everything else is ready for you, blessings on your wedding, and thank you for using Posies florist!”
Back in the hallway, Elly leaned her head against the cool cement walls
. These brides will kill me someday. Allergic to oranges? Seriously.
The maid of honor poked her head around the door. “Pssstt….”
Unsure of what was happening, Elly crept forward to her. “Um, yes?”
“She’s not really allergic,” the maid of honor whispered. “She just really doesn’t like oranges. She thinks she is allergic, but she’s not. So don’t worry too much.”
“Good to know,” Elly whispered back. So glad I just had a heart attack. She made her way out to the hallway, gathering buckets and tools along the way. “Note to self,” she said out loud, “add fruit-allergy question to consultation form.”
Arriving in the sculpture atrium, Elly pursed her lips together and gave a low whistle. Snarky Teenager trotted around the corner, a phone number written on her tiny hand.
“Elly! Oh my gosh. You should see the guy I just talked to. I’m pretty sure he surfs. Like, in the ocean. I didn’t know it until now, but I think I have a thing for surfers. Actually, I think I’m going to marry a surfer.” They had entered the museum’s ballroom, which was a gross exaggeration in Elly’s mind, seeing how it was a small windowless concrete block. The only bright spot in the room was the flowers on their Posies cart.
“So, what happened to Basir?” Elly asked. Her assistant’s last boyfriend had been Russian. Or something. Either way, he was a sweet boy and up until recently, she had been crazy about him.
Snarky Teenager gave a nonchalant shrug. “I got the feeling that he was more into the relationship than I was. When went out to the clubs, he wanted to dance with me as opposed to just dancing around me.”
Elly started placing square cherry wood boxes bursting with white anthurium onto the tables. “I don’t know how to say this, but that doesn’t actually sound like a real problem.”
“It is when he thinks he owns you. He wanted to hold my hand everywhere we went, wanted me to meet his mother, bought me a necklace….”
Elly started adding tiny chocolate cosmos to a perfectly square white cake as sarcasm dripped from her mouth. “You’re right. That sounds absolutely awful. How did you ever live with him for so long?”
Snarky Teenager rolled her eyes. “Elly. You don’t understand. He looked at me like I was the center of his world. Those brown puppy dog eyes were cute at first, but then all the sudden it was absolutely suffocating.” She gave a loud sigh. “He did look fantastic in the nylon briefs I bought him, though.”
Elly raised her hand. “I really don’t want to hear about that.” Okay, maybe a little. “Can you go set up the bar and the buffet table?” Snarky Teenager gave a groan, but she headed that direction.
They labored for another hour, covering every surface with Indian henna pots filled with wild herbs, root plants and rustic pods. As her assistant packed up, Elly leaned back against a circular wood table and gazed around the room. It was an eclectic masterpiece, full of bright bizarre flowers and lush petals twisted into awkward shapes. The joy of a job well done surged up in her chest. Love this job, she thought. Then she felt the weight of the discarded oranges in her apron pocket and reconsidered. Most of the time, I love my job. I also would love to eat sometime today. Skipping breakfast was a bad idea. Throwing her tools into a bright-pink tote bag, she stood quickly, her stomach cramping. Elly picked up a stray flower head and launched it at Snarky Teenager. It bounced off her perfect forehead. Elly suddenly became convinced that she would make an excellent softball pitcher. “Hey you, with the half skirt; let’s head out. I have a date with lunch.”
Snarky Teenager looked at Elly. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. You have rust stains on your face.”
Elly shrugged. “I’ll get it later. Let’s go. There is schawarma with my name on it.”
“Every schawarma has your name on it.”
“Quiet, peon!”
Together, they giggled as they made their way to the car.
Chapter Two
When Elly pushed open the door to her apartment, she was greeted with a swift knock to the knees, courtesy of Cadbury, her naughty English sheepdog. Essentially a huge gray-and-white cotton ball that occasionally smelled like fish, Cadbury romped around her ankles, barking joyfully and whining at her until she reached above the fridge and delivered what he was waiting for: a treat. How sad, thought Elly as Cadbury scampered off to devour his kill, the dog loves fake organic bacon more than he loves me. She glanced at the clock on her counter; it was four o’clock. She settled deep into her comfy couch, taking a sip from a warm glass of sun tea that had been left out that morning. Keith would be here in two hours for their Saturday-night date—that gave her plenty of time to walk Cadbury, take a nap, shower, and get herself to gorgeous, or at the very least, presentable. I better make sure to wipe the rust off my face…. Her eyes fluttered briefly, and she was asleep in seconds.
She awoke to a loud pounding. Elly leapt off the couch before she was actually awake. The room seemed off-balance and her chubby legs gave a pathetic quiver before she promptly crashed to the ground. What was happening? It was dusk outside. What? She felt a warm tongue lash across her cheek.
“Cadbury! Gross!” She brushed off her face and sat up on the carpet, sprawled out like an oversized toddler. The banging continued. Realization dawned. Keith. Elly pushed herself off the carpet and leaned against the door. “Keith?” There was a long pause.
“Elly? Are you okay? You sound … drunk or something.” Keith’s rich bass voice bounced through the door.
“No, Keith, I’m fine—I just woke up. Can you just give me a few minutes?”
There was another pause. “Er … um, okay. I’ll just sit out here. In the stairway, with two bags of Italian food and a bottle of wine.”
Elly smiled and leaned her forehead against the door, overwhelmed with longing to see his face. “I can’t let you in. I just woke up from a nap, and not kidding, I probably look like an actual hobo. Not even a normal hobo—the kind of hobo that murdered people in the thirties. I just need ten minutes to shower and clean up.” She heard Keith’s gruff laugh from the other side of the light pine wood, a sound she adored.
“Elly. I’ve seen you disheveled more times than I can count.”
Elly leaned away from the door with an amused smile. “Thanks, Keith, that’s really romantic.”
“Elly … wait, no. Okay, that came out horrible. What I meant to say is that I’ve never seen a woman look so messy.” He gave a low groan. “I can see how that also didn’t sound great.”
Elly folded her arms and gave an exasperated look to Cadbury, who sat obediently waiting by the door, his tail flopping wildly against the floor. He loved Keith much more than he loved Elly.
She heard Keith shuffle his feet. “What I’m trying to say is that….” Elly heard him sigh nervously. “If I think you’re the most beautiful woman even when you are covered in sweat, messy, and tired, then how bad could you possibly be right now?”
Elly’s heart spun in a dizzy circle and she opened the door into the hallway. Keith looked at her face with a grin. “Whoa. Pretty bad.” Elly smiled. With a devastating grin, he pulled her face toward him and softly nuzzled her nose. Elly took a minute to breathe him in. As her curtains curled in the breeze, the darkening pink sky played over his handsome features: a strong jaw, white teeth, soft lips. Keith was bald—but in the best possible way, in that he had a perfectly shaped head—and his dark-blue eyes reminded Elly of an angry sea at night. Tan Italian features occupied his sincere face that dimpled at the cheeks when he smiled, which was often. His smile was infectious and always proud, and he had a way of making the people around him want to be better. Years of throwing huge hunks of meat around and cutting endless sandwiches had given him a stocky and strong build. Elly ran her fingers over his thick arms, feeling herself sink into his steady embrace. He smelled like warm bread. They held each other passionately for a second and then released awkwardly.
We’re not quite there yet, thought Elly. We’re still a little nervous around each other.
Kei
th kissed her hand before holding her at arm’s length. “Let me see this so-called wreck.”
Elly looked down at her own clothing and grimaced. “I call this look ‘wildly inappropriate gym teacher.’” Her khaki shorts were so wrinkled that they looked more like tissue paper than the less-than-attractive shorts they were. Her baby-blue polo clung tightly to her body—it was a size too small—which might have been noticeable if it weren’t for the host of stains covering the fabric. Elly reached up and felt her hair. It was a tangled bird’s nest, and she could feel her cheeks were damp and clammy from sleep. She reached up to wipe her face with her palm. “I know I look awful. If you just give me a few minutes….”
Keith yanked her toward him and she almost bounced off his soft chest. He pushed her hair back from her face, strand by strand. The apartment faded from Elly’s eyes, and all she saw was Keith’s kind mouth inches from hers, his breath lingering on her lips. “I know you don’t believe me when I tell you, but you are perfection. In every way. Even when you are wearing some disgusting polo, and when you have—” he ran the pad of his finger down her profile, “couch imprints and some sort of stain on your cheek.” With a frown, he rubbed his thumb across her face gently, and then with more determination. “My word, Elly. Is this rust? How did you get rust on your face?”
Elly turned her mouth up in a half smile to kiss him like he’d never been kissed before. At that moment, her stomach gave a loud and embarrassing gurgle. Don’t ruin the moment by saying that you’re starving. Don’t ruin it, don’t do it…. “Keith?”
He was focused on the stain now, frowning as he tried to get it off her cheek. “Yes?”
“Can we eat?”
He laughed. “Of course. I’m glad I make such a romantic impression on you that your first question is ‘Can we eat?’”
Way to be ridiculous, she thought. She feigned humor. “You’re very romantic, but so is the garlic bread I’m smelling.”