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And that was true - but of course there is more to my homecoming than just a father who likely asked for me to not be present for his funeral, anyway.
I glance at the flower shop again, wondering how May is doing and how much Lila has changed over the years, not that I’d ever admit the latter. The flower shop is still a beacon of something pure in the town that I’d never fit into... and I never would. And now I don’t want to.
I continue my walk, but my mind doesn’t leave the flower shop, or Lila, or my past.
“Fredrick Tecker,”
I turn as someone says my name in an incredulous voice.Vivian Price walks up to me, her thin, blonde ponytail swishing. Time had etched lines into her face and left the space beside her chin sagging lightly. She is my age, but heavy alcohol use and her secret shame smoking habit had aged her before her time.
“Vivian Price,” I say, my voice chilly as I take in her disheveled appearance. She might be the last person I expected to see upon returning to town, but then again, this place never failed to surprise me. Vivian and I have a history, one that runs deep and had left scars that aren’t visible but are still tender to the touch.
“What are you doing back here?” she asks, her gaze sharp as she searches my face for something. A weakness she can exploit, no doubt. I learned long ago to keep my cards close to my chest, especially when it comes to Vivian. That lesson has since extended to everyone I know and meet, and I have zero doubt that caution has saved me more times than I can count.
“Didn’t you hear? My dad is dead,” I say in as nonchalant a voice as I can muster.
She nods her head, recognition shifting her features. But there is no pity, kindness, or understanding. “Right. You’d come home to bury him. I thought it was another empty threat.”
I lift both shoulders, but she doesn’t seem satisfied with my response. She raises an eyebrow, clearly not accepting my casual tone. “You’re still a cold sonovabitch, huh?” she asks, a hint of mockery in her voice. “Well, don’t let me keep you from whatever important business brings you back to this godforsaken place.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t,” I say with a grin designed to infuriate her.
Vivian's eyes flash with anger, but she quickly masks it with a tight smile. “Oh, I’m not worried,” she says, her voice dripping with disdain as she eyes me like something someone might track in off the lawn on the bottom of their shoe. “I’m just surprised you had the guts to show your face in this town again. It’s a shame your father won’t be around to see how much of a disappointment you turned out to be.”
With that blow, she turns to leave, pulling her phone from her pocket and giving her ponytail a flick.
“I’m surprised you show your face anywhere - you’ve aged like milk.” With a dark chuckle, I continue walking, hearing her shout at me.
“Asshole!”
Years of practice help me keep my expression amused even when I’ve been emotionally kicked in the dick. Dealing with the people in this town is like navigating a minefield—every step has to be calculated to avoid setting off explosions.
And while Vivian's words sting more than I care to admit, they aren’t entirely unexpected. She has always been a master at twisting the knife, enjoying any opportunity to remind me of my past mistakes and failures. But as I walk away from her, her harsh anger echoing in my ears, I can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction that I still managed to hurt her feelings.
I cross the road and stand in front of the flower shop.
The sleek, modern sign is new, and somehow suits Lila, even though I don’t know her anymore. Glancing up into the gray clouds gathering overhead, I catch the unmistakable scent of impending rain.
I hesitate for a moment, torn between the comfort of familiar blooms and memories of May and the uncertainty of facing Lila again. But curiosity gets the better of me, and before I know it, I’m pushing open the shop door and stepping inside.
The familiar scent of earth and petals envelopes me as I enter, and I inhale, letting the familiarity calm my racing thoughts. The shop is quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves and the distant sound of a radio playing a tune I’d loved as a teenager. All around me colors and greenery offer a sense of comfort and I can’t help a smile.
“You know May is on lunch. What are you doing here?”
I glance over to see Lila standing behind the counter with a thoughtful expression on her face as she arranges a bouquet of sunflowers, her gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than I expected. My heart begins to beat double time.
“Just taking a stroll down memory lane,” I say, trying to keep my tone light as I approach the counter. Putting both palms on the cool stainless steel, I watch Lila’s eyes narrow slightly, as if she is trying to decipher the truth behind my words. She had always been perceptive, even when we were teens. That quality frustrated and intrigued me back then, but now it feels like a dangerous game.
Lila hasn't changed much over the years - her hair is still a cascade of black silk, her sky-colored eyes still hold a twinkle of mischief. But there is a guardedness in her expression now, a wariness that hadn't been there before.
"I just... wanted to see how things were going,” I say, trying to keep my tone casual, despite the turmoil of emotions churning inside me.
“Well, you’ve certainly picked an interesting place to remember,” she says with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. There is a tension between us, thick like the storm clouds outside ready to open up and dump rain on everything.
I lean against the counter, pretending to be interested in a display of potted succulents to avoid her probing gaze. “How have you been, Lila? It’s been a while.”
Her hands still as she regards me with quiet eyes. “I’ve been... managing,” she says finally, her voice carefully neutral. “Things have been different since you left.”
Is that… guilt I feel as I think about how I’d up and vanished on her and May? “I’m sorry for leaving without a word,” I say softly, meeting her gaze and hoping she can see that I mean the words.
