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I slip out the door, ignoring the disapproving chatter, while wondering if wisteria is still Lila’s favorite flower. Maybe she’s changed after all these years. I sure hope not.
Because I want everything to be perfect for her big day.
Chapter Four
Lila
My feet ache when the bell above the door chimes for the last time tonight. I wave at the customer out of sight of the front windows and resist the urge to collapse into a heap on the cold concrete floors. Instead, I walk over and flip the sign to “Closed.”
With a sigh, I scan the shop, wishing I could just go home and rest. But petals litter the floor, flowers need water, and I’d noticed a few of my live selection need to be pruned.
Pruning could wait until tomorrow. Watering and sweeping cannot. So, I grab the broom and begin to sweep, trying to force thoughts of Fredrick out of my mind. But like a bad cold, he keeps coming back, leaving my chest aching with every breath. Instead, I listen to the bristles whispering across the floor as if that’ll drown out his words echoing around my mind.
With a deep breath, I ignore the impending tears I’d been holding back. I’m not sad that he’s not mine - realistically, he was never mine - I’m sad that there is no chance at reconciliation, and that I’d misread him so badly.
When he walked through my door, a tiny spark of hope lit up in me that maybe things would be different this time. I was so right… and so wrong. Things certainly are different.
Grounding myself by scanning the calming flowers around me, I inhale and hold my breath while counting to three and trying to clear my mind. As the light fades, I watch the blooms around me continue to close, their vibrant colors dimming in the impending twilight.
“Goodnight,” I say to the shop, well aware that I sound like a crazy person talking to my plants. But I heard somewhere that it’s good for them, and I don’t mind looking a little strange.
My keys jangle - a sharp metallic clink as I lock the door for the night. Looking up at the new sign, I think about May and remind myself to check in on her tomorrow. I’d offered for her to move in with us so we could keep an eye on her, but she’d refused. She’s stubborn as ever. But when I look at her now... she’s changed. The lines on her face have deepened these last couple of years, and her health seems to be on the decline.
But that’s why I check in on her, even though it’s another thing to add to my growing list of concerns. I check the door, then tilt my head back to gaze up into the star-filled skies.
The stars blink and wink back at me, but even that doesn't make me feel better like it usually does. Instead, I feel like I’m being crushed alive, I’m slowly drowning, and there’s no easy way out and no fix in sight. Well, there’s one fix... if it ever comes to be.
Still, all my troubles seem so small and insignificant when I stare up into the universe and it stares back into me. It’s a good reminder that one day I’ll be gone, one day someone will speak my name for the last time, and I’ll be forgotten. That really puts today’s struggles into perspective. I need to live now, today, and enjoy the time I have, because all our days are numbered.
With heavy steps, I make my way home, the sound of frogs and crickets playing the symphony of nightfall as I make my way along the sidewalk toward my family. Fredrick creeps back into my thoughts as the streetlights blink to life overhead.
He was getting married. He wanted me to make the flower arch. He wanted them to be my favorite flower - not that I expected him to remember that little detail. But it would have been kinder for him to slap me than have me prepare for his wedding. At least then I’d be able to lash out and feel justified. As things stand, I’m just stuck pretending to be happy for him and feeling hurt. It’s all so confusing.
As I pass by our neighbor’s house, their dog, Pepper, woofs at me, prompting Greg to smile and wave. I smile and wave back, even though I’m just going through the motions.
Walking up my front steps, I take a deep breath and compose myself before pushing open the front door.
The familiar scent of home fills my lungs, and I breathe in deep as memories flood my mind. Carefree, happy memories that linger from childhood. I wish I could go back, that life could be that easy, exciting, and fun again instead of the heavy weight of adulthood and responsibility.
While I could live on my own, my family needs me. They need my income, and I can’t support two households, so it’s easier to simply live at home for now.
“Hey, Lila,” Alex says, his cheery voice confusing me as his crutches thump the floor with his forward motion. I catch sight of his smile and the fresh gauze wrapped around his calf where the bullet had torn through flesh, chipped bone, and shredded muscle.
“Hi, Alex. How was your day?” I ask with a smile that takes more effort than I expected.
He lifts both shoulders, his gaze searching mine. “Pretty good. I want to hear about yours.”
I can tell he knows Fredrick is in town and wants to know every last detail. But I can’t bring myself to even bring it up, much less explain what happened.
“It went fine,” I say, but my mouth betrays me. “Until Fredrick showed up.”
His eyebrows knit together in concern as understanding flickers in his eyes. I’d never told him - or anyone else, for that matter - the depth of what Fredrick put me through. He knows the disneyfied, pretty version, not the cold, stark truth. And I have no intention of sharing.
He moves toward me with effort, the sound of the rubber grips on the bottom of his crutches thumping on the warm oak flooring. His arms wrap around me, holding me tight. “Are you okay?” he asks. “Need me to kick his ass?”
I laugh and he pulls back, mocking outrage.
“You couldn’t kick anyone’s ass right now. And you better not try, mister,” I say, wagging a warning finger at him as I move back a step. “But thank you,” I say, touched that, like always, he has my back when I need him most. I can count on him, and he can count on me, no matter what. We might not have the weird twin mind reading powers, but we’ve always been close.
