Tracy exited the train and walked up the stairs into the midday sunshine and the Saturday Manhattan crowd. The air was thick with humidity, the crowd different from the usual hustle-and-bustle business population that dominated the weekdays. Today it was tourists, roving bands of teens, families, and shoppers who meandered about the sidewalk in varying speeds. Tracy joined the stream of pedestrians and made her way to Finey's, one of her grandmother's favorite dining establishments.
"Tracy!" her fashionable grandmother exclaimed. She was known as Beverly to all her acquaintances, except for Tracy and Beth, who both called her Nana.
"Nana! Are you kidding me with this dress? Where did this come from? You are so lucky I am not your size -- I would steal all your clothes!"
Beverly modestly put her hand to her broad cowl collar and said, "Well, I've had it for years, but I suspect it's a classic."
"Rickrack! That is so cool. I've never seen such big rickrack." Tracy reached out and felt the black jagged trim around the collar of the yellow and white dress.
"And you look lovely, as always, my dear. How did everything go last night?" Beverly was referring to business, of course. There was a wedding happening today and Beverly knew Tracy was practicing letting go of control and allowing her helpers to manage without her.
"Well of course Antonio's wife and her sisters came last night to assemble all the centerpieces, bouquets, and boutonnieres. It's a good-sized wedding, not too big, just seven centerpieces, but they're so pretty! Here, let me show you, Nana." Tracy pulled out her phone to show Beverly a photo.
"Oooooh," Beverly held her hand to her cheek, "Are they all in the same tea cup?"
"Yes, isn't that pretty? And 'Antonio's harem,' as I like to call them, did an excellent job. You know, Nana, I used to try and go to just check on them, maybe help out? But Antonio said they like it better when I don't come." Both women laughed and Tracy went on, "I felt so guilty before. Here are these three women working in the middle of the night, and who knows what they have to do during the day. Work? Take care of kids? Then they come and make flower arrangements in the middle of the night? But Antonio said they love it. He said that is when they are able to get away from the men and catch up on all the gossip!"
"Kind of like the sewing circles of the old days!"
"I guess so. Anyway, I didn't realize I was spoiling the party because I don't know how they interact in my absence, but Antonio asked me to stay away."
"Really? He is very frank. Good for him."
"He is a horrible brat. He said I scare them, but then admitted that they just like to get loud and talk in Spanish, so I made the big concession: I reluctantly agreed to stay home and just left a sample of each item with a note saying how many to make of each."
"And they were successful?"
"They are flawless. And the shop -- spotless. I feel so... unnecessary, Nana!" Tracy laughed.
"Oh no, Tracy, this is very good. This will allow you to get out more. You need to let your help do their jobs so that you can get out of that flower shop more often. You need to get out and meet people, single men, in particular."
Tracy rolled her eyes out of habit, although she actually agreed. "Well guess what, Nana. I met two single men just this week!"
"Oh, when it rains it pours!" Beverly put both hands to her own cheeks. "Please go on!"
Tracy paused to give the waiter her order, and then patiently waited while Beverly placed her own. Then she told her about William, and also about Matt, a guy who came into Petals to buy flowers for his mom's birthday.
"He's in a band and they are playing this weekend. He told me I should come check them out."
Beverly smiled a tight, closed-mouth smile and sipped her coffee.
"What, Nana?"
"Well, Tracy, William sounds very interesting. Matt sounds like more of the same."
Tracy sighed. She'd known Nana would say that, but she also knew it was true. "But William has not really shown an interest in me, and Matt totally flirted with me."
"Oh, on the contrary, my dear. William showed an interest with no urgency. That is to be commended. Matt took the lazy man's approach. "Come check out my band," Beverly said in a mock-macho voice, before turning her sweet smile back on. "And let me guess, tattoos? Tattered jeans? Green hair?"
"Two out of three," Tracy pouted, "No one has green hair anymore, Nana."
"Oh really? I thought it was 'classic'." Beverly teased, causing Tracy to giggle.
"I hate it when you're right."
"I know, dear. Don't take the easy road. Take your time and get to know this William, or anyone else not looking for an easy hook-up."
"Nana!" Tracy laughed, surprised that her Nana knew the term "hook-up." But Nana was right. Maybe not William, but definitely not Matt. Besides, she didn't believe those flowers were for his mom anyway.
* * * * *
Vera rolled her older brother on his back and said, "I hope you appreciate me, Victor. I never imagined in a million years I'd be wiping my brother's ass." Victor gave Vera a thumb up, one of his three favorite hand gestures. "I have to work tonight, so don't ring the buzzer unless it is an emergency, okay? Two hours. Do you want music?" Victor answered with a thumb down. "TV?" Thumb up. She turned the television on and set it on The National Geographic channel. Victor never used to watch that type of stuff before the accident, but Vera thought the narrator's voice and animal sounds must be soothing to him. The narrator was describing the complex social structure of the leafcutter ant. "Okay?" Thumb up.
Vera pulled the blanket over Victor's leg, but he violently kicked it off and his heel hit her left thigh. "Damn you, Victor!" she yelled at him, rubbing her thigh. He flipped her off, exhausting his array of communications signals. She considered giving him an extra pill so she could work, but then decided against it since it was only Andy tonight. He was the only client who really knew about her brother in the back room, but she did not consider Andy a typical client. She looked at the TV and tried not to think about Andy. She always made an effort not to think about Andy, unless he was there. It would complicate things, and life was hard enough. The narrator said the leafcutter ant could carry ten times its own body weight.
"If I were a leafcutter ant, I could toss you on my back and take you anywhere, Victor. We wouldn't need nurses, or handicap vans, or anyone else's help. Think about the things we could do! I could carry you around like a baby, like a big two-hundred pound baby!"
Victor made a grunt and gave a thumb up. Vera did not correct herself, allowing Victor to believe he was still two hundred pounds. It didn't matter anyway. She was a hooker, not a leafcutter ant. A forty-three year old hooker with no family except a brain-damaged brother.
William looked up from his screen after reading the latest installment of Tracy's writing. The library was busy, typical for a summer morning, but no one needed his attention at the moment, so he went back to reread the body of the email.
William,
Thank you for your advice about my writing. You are correct. I am very confident in some areas, but lack confidence when it comes to writing. I was not an English major, but I have always had a desire to write. I simply lacked ideas; then one day I overheard a conversation, and it got me thinking. The story you have been reading is the result of my eavesdropping and overactive imagination. Feel free to offer any criticism. I am not overly sensitive and I appreciate you taking the time to do this. I trust my legs will not be an issue, since you only saw part of them once. And that was days ago.
Tracy
William thoughtfully reread the email again. In mentioning her legs was she teasing him? Taunting him? Simply responding to what he said? Or was she hinting that there was much more to see? Or that it had been a while? The email came several days after his, indicating she was not eager to speak to him. Perhaps she is only interested in his input. He is a librarian, after all. And the leg comment, well... He mentioned her legs first. It would be odd if she ignored the comment. No, mentioning her legs was just a demonstration of her confidence, as if she were saying "Yes, I have beautiful legs. Get over it." William smiled at the thought. He could almost hear her voice uttering those very words.
"Whatcha' reading, William?" asked Melissa, a volunteer at the library.
"I am reading a story by an unpublished up-and-coming author," William answered, dryly.
"Really? Who?" Melissa probed.
"Janet Jones," William lied, saying the first name that popped into his head. He was not sure why, but he did not trust Melissa.
"Can I read it?"
"I'm sorry, Melissa, I was given this work in confidence, but I can ask the author," William said.
"You know her?"
"Only by email," he continued the façade, then wishing to change the subject, assigned her a task in the form of request: "Would you mind taking this stack of books upstairs?"
"Sure," Melissa answered. She picked up the books then casually asked, "Do you have any plans for the evening."
"Yes," William answered, and then turned to the patron who approached the desk. Melissa sauntered away.
* * * * *
Tracy opened an email from Mrs. Hillson, who wrote to say that she was delighted with the flowers and that Tracy could expect to hear from at least one of her dinner guests, possibly two. Mrs. Hillson mentioned "The brave use of color" and Tracy smiled, feeling a sense of pride and also gratitude to have a customer who appreciated her talent -- and paid her invoices promptly and without question.
Tracy heard the door swing open and looked up to see Ray walking into Petals.
"Hey, Ray, how's it going?"
"Good," he answered, "You?"
