[story] flowers
author: celestine (luckychan
email: yellow.tulips [at] gmail.com
The little bell above the door tinkled, signaling the arrival of another customer. She shoved aside the basket she was working on, and stood up, brushing away the flower petals that had fallen to onto her skirt. She emerged from underneath the counter, her usual smile now in place.
"Welcome to Holiday Blooms," she said. "How may I help you?"
She smiled further as she watched his eyes widen. "Cat got your tongue, sir?" she teased.
"Salvia!" he said, finding his voice at last. "I didn’t know that you worked here."
"You do now, I hope."
He managed to recover his composure, and finally grinned. "That was a silly thing to say, wasn't it?"
"Oh, no," she said, "It was a very silly thing to say." She went back to her place behind the counter, and brought out a stack of catalogues from under the table.
She handed one to the young man, who was looking at the flowers stacked neatly on a table. He held up the vase containing chrysanthemums, and whistled under his breath. "I remember now. You did tell me your mother owned a flower shop." He put the vase down, and turned, looking apologetically at her. "Great job. The place really looks good."
"Mom would be glad to hear that," she said. "And I am too. This store's come such a long way, you know. I’m really proud of it."
He beamed at her. "I’ll recommend this shop to the other guys."
"Thanks, Roan." She leaned forward to look straight at him. "So what's the occasion?"
"Hmm?"
"I mean, why are you buying flowers? Valentine’s Day is two weeks away."
He gave her a level gaze. "You should never wait for Valentine’s Day to show your love to someone."
"Good answer." She smirked, and bent down to reach for another pile of catalogues. "But really, why are you buying flowers? I could give some suggestions, you know."
A small blush crept up his cheeks. He fixed his eyes on the catalogue, and began turning the pages with haste. "Her birthday's coming up," he mumbled, his words coming out all jumbled together. "I thought that maybe it was time to let her know my feelings."
One of the catalogues in her hands slipped to the floor, and she bent down again to retrieve it.
"Oh, I see," she said. She began to laugh. "So it was true. I’m sure Cams will be thrilled..."
He blanched. "How'd you know that it was Camellia?"
"Please," she said, "Practically the whole university knows. And our blockmates have been whispering about you since last semester."
He sighed. "Oh, well."
She grinned. "So what are you going to order?"
"I don't know..." He turned to catalogue again. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the page, and he shook his head. "These arrangements are nice, but too fancy. Maybe I’ll go for a bouquet instead."
"A dozen red roses?"
"I think I want to give her something else. I mean... almost everyone gives red roses."
"How about some other color?"
His eyes lit up. "Yellow's her favorite color," he said. "How about yellow roses?"
"We’re out of stock of that, though, unfortunately. Besides, you wouldn’t want to give her yellow roses."
"Why's that?"
"Yellow roses can mean friendship," she replied, "But they can also symbolize jealousy, unfaithfulness or misplaced affection. And you might as well have told her, 'I love someone else, sorry.'"
He looked disturbed. "I didn’t know that even flowers had meanings."
"It started with the Victorian Era in England," she said. "Their society severely limited men and women from interacting, so they had to say it with flowers."
"So what do red roses mean?"
"Love, of course. And also passion, desire, beauty, victory, and martyrdom."
"Martyrdom?" He laughed. "Going into a relationship sometimes does feel like martyrdom. What about pink roses?"
"First love."
"White?"
"Purity, innocence, and, believe it or not, it can also mean refusal."
"Refusal?"
"Yes. Refusal. 'I love you not.'"
"I guess I better stay away from roses." He tapped his fingers on the counter. "Tulips? Yellow tulips. I sure hope that doesn’t mean anything bad."
She looked at him, and burst out laughing.
"What’s so funny?"
"Nothing, nothing."
"Then why'd you laugh?"
"You wouldn't understand." She shook her head, and began to laugh again.
He raised an eyebrow, and crossed his arms. "So what do yellow tulips mean?"
"You sure you want to know?"
"I wouldn't be asking if I didn't"
She shrugged. "'I love you, but you can never love me back.'"
"You mean..."
"Unrequited love."
"Oh," he said, crestfallen. "So maybe I should save that for after she gives me her answer, right? It’s always the same. I mean, I get along fine with girls, like with you, but whenever I start courting them..." He shook his head in exasperation. "There’s just something wrong with me."
"Maybe there’s something wrong with them."
"You don’t have to be nice to me," he said, holding up a finger in mock disapproval. "Isn't it ironic? Finding love is hard is hard enough, but if you think about it, actually being in a relationship is maybe ten times as hard." He shook his head.
She shrugged. “You know what they say - life's not a bed of roses."
"But you’re wrong. Life is a bed of roses. Even roses have thorns."
She gazed at him in open admiration. "Amazing. You actually managed to disprove that age-old cliché."
"I like going against cliché."
"But if you really wanted to go against cliché, you wouldn't be giving her flowers."
"Oh, that’s not all I'm going to do." He winked.
She laughed, fondly patting his shoulder. "I should have known. You're too--"
"Weird?" He grinned impudently at her.
"I was going to say 'avant-garde' but I suppose 'weird' will do." Her answering grin was every bit as impudent as his. "So what are you going to do?"
"Let's leave that as a surprise."
"Oh, all right," she said, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. "You are putting a lot of effort into this, aren't you?"
"She's worth it." His eyes, still on the catalogue, softened. "Even if she says no, she's still worth it."
"Well, I hope she likes - whatever it is."
"Thanks for that vote of confidence." Well... so, how about red tulips?"
"That would be perfect!" she exclaimed. "I mean, red tulips mean, 'a declaration of ardent love,' which is exactly what you’re going to do."
"Ardent love?"
"You do love her, don't you?"
"Well, yes, but... ardent?"
"Why not? Are you not suffused with passionate, undying love for her? Do you not wish to hold her in your arms, caress her soft, lovely locks-"
"All right, all right, you made your point." He grimaced. "With that kind of language you should be writing romance novels."
"Nah. Romance novels do sell and all, but they give people the wrong idea. About love, I mean."
"Amen to that." One corner of his mouth curled up as he attempted a smile, but his eyes remained downcast. "It might be nice if relationships did work out that way."
"Ah, escapism," she murmured. "So half a dozen red tulips, then?"
"Yes, thank you."
She took out the order book, and wrote on a new page. "Her birthday's on Friday, right? Just come get it then. Are you going to pay now, or later?"
"How much is it?"
"Seven hundred and twenty pesos."
He sighed. "That much? I'll just pay it all Friday. Don't you have some sort of pre-Valentine's Day special or something?"
"Nope. Sorry."
"How about seven hundred pesos?"
"No."
He crossed his arms, and frowned at her. "What sort of a friend are you?"
"A richer one," she said, her arms also akimbo, a look of satisfaction on her face.
They both laughed again, heartily, and tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them with her apron, and shifted her attention to the claim form. She tore it out, and presented it to him with a flourish.
"There you go. I wish you all the luck in the world."
"You too," he said, taking the form from her, "Not that you need it, since lots of people probably give you flowers every year."
"Ha," she said, "Men don't give me flowers. I only sell it to them."
He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Thank you for being a wonderful customer, Roan. Have a nice day."
He returned her grin, although there was the faintest trace of puzzlement on his face. "One of these days you’ll have to tell me all about the meanings of the other flowers. Thanks for all your help."
"It was nothing, really."
"And rest assured, I'll tell my friends about this shop. Although,” he added, a twinkle of mischief in his eye, “I’m sure you'd get more customers if you'd give a discount."
"Don’t push your luck."
"Just kidding, of course." He started to walk away. The little bell tinkled once more, and he gave her one last wave.
He breathed in the warm afternoon air, sighing in relief. At least that was settled. He sauntered towards his car, humming under his breath.
The door to the shop suddenly opened, and the little bell tinkled so violently that it fell off the door. She rushed outside, and thrust a small package into his arms.
"I was kidding,” she said, panting. "We do have a pre-Valentine's offer."
He slapped his forehead, chuckling. "I should have known!"
“Shouldn’t you be used to me by now?” She beamed and handed him a flyer. "See? You get a ten percent discount on the flowers, plus that lovely gift package."
He scanned the flyer, and he raised an eyebrow. "What’s inside the package? You didn’t say anything in this flyer at all."
Instead of answering his question, she only turned her back on him. "Let’s leave that as a surprise." she said, throwing his words back at him. "Happy Valentine's Day, Roan. I hope you two will be very happy."
She picked up the little bell, and went inside. She looked at him, eyes shining in the sunlight.
"Thanks for all the help, Sal," he called after her, "You’re a great friend."
She only smiled, and closed the door.
He went inside his car, and opened the package, still humming as he did so. He smiled at the box of chocolates inside, and at the "The Language of Flowers" brochure, and--
He stopped humming.
Lifting the flower from the package, and he looked back at the shop. He got out of the car, and started walking, still holding that single yellow tulip he found inside the package.
the end
email: yellow.tulips [at] gmail.com
The little bell above the door tinkled, signaling the arrival of another customer. She shoved aside the basket she was working on, and stood up, brushing away the flower petals that had fallen to onto her skirt. She emerged from underneath the counter, her usual smile now in place.
"Welcome to Holiday Blooms," she said. "How may I help you?"
She smiled further as she watched his eyes widen. "Cat got your tongue, sir?" she teased.
"Salvia!" he said, finding his voice at last. "I didn’t know that you worked here."
"You do now, I hope."
He managed to recover his composure, and finally grinned. "That was a silly thing to say, wasn't it?"
"Oh, no," she said, "It was a very silly thing to say." She went back to her place behind the counter, and brought out a stack of catalogues from under the table.
She handed one to the young man, who was looking at the flowers stacked neatly on a table. He held up the vase containing chrysanthemums, and whistled under his breath. "I remember now. You did tell me your mother owned a flower shop." He put the vase down, and turned, looking apologetically at her. "Great job. The place really looks good."
"Mom would be glad to hear that," she said. "And I am too. This store's come such a long way, you know. I’m really proud of it."
He beamed at her. "I’ll recommend this shop to the other guys."
"Thanks, Roan." She leaned forward to look straight at him. "So what's the occasion?"
"Hmm?"
"I mean, why are you buying flowers? Valentine’s Day is two weeks away."
He gave her a level gaze. "You should never wait for Valentine’s Day to show your love to someone."
"Good answer." She smirked, and bent down to reach for another pile of catalogues. "But really, why are you buying flowers? I could give some suggestions, you know."
A small blush crept up his cheeks. He fixed his eyes on the catalogue, and began turning the pages with haste. "Her birthday's coming up," he mumbled, his words coming out all jumbled together. "I thought that maybe it was time to let her know my feelings."
One of the catalogues in her hands slipped to the floor, and she bent down again to retrieve it.
"Oh, I see," she said. She began to laugh. "So it was true. I’m sure Cams will be thrilled..."
He blanched. "How'd you know that it was Camellia?"
"Please," she said, "Practically the whole university knows. And our blockmates have been whispering about you since last semester."
He sighed. "Oh, well."
She grinned. "So what are you going to order?"
"I don't know..." He turned to catalogue again. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the page, and he shook his head. "These arrangements are nice, but too fancy. Maybe I’ll go for a bouquet instead."
"A dozen red roses?"
"I think I want to give her something else. I mean... almost everyone gives red roses."
"How about some other color?"
His eyes lit up. "Yellow's her favorite color," he said. "How about yellow roses?"
"We’re out of stock of that, though, unfortunately. Besides, you wouldn’t want to give her yellow roses."
"Why's that?"
"Yellow roses can mean friendship," she replied, "But they can also symbolize jealousy, unfaithfulness or misplaced affection. And you might as well have told her, 'I love someone else, sorry.'"
He looked disturbed. "I didn’t know that even flowers had meanings."
"It started with the Victorian Era in England," she said. "Their society severely limited men and women from interacting, so they had to say it with flowers."
"So what do red roses mean?"
"Love, of course. And also passion, desire, beauty, victory, and martyrdom."
"Martyrdom?" He laughed. "Going into a relationship sometimes does feel like martyrdom. What about pink roses?"
"First love."
"White?"
"Purity, innocence, and, believe it or not, it can also mean refusal."
"Refusal?"
"Yes. Refusal. 'I love you not.'"
"I guess I better stay away from roses." He tapped his fingers on the counter. "Tulips? Yellow tulips. I sure hope that doesn’t mean anything bad."
She looked at him, and burst out laughing.
"What’s so funny?"
"Nothing, nothing."
"Then why'd you laugh?"
"You wouldn't understand." She shook her head, and began to laugh again.
He raised an eyebrow, and crossed his arms. "So what do yellow tulips mean?"
"You sure you want to know?"
"I wouldn't be asking if I didn't"
She shrugged. "'I love you, but you can never love me back.'"
"You mean..."
"Unrequited love."
"Oh," he said, crestfallen. "So maybe I should save that for after she gives me her answer, right? It’s always the same. I mean, I get along fine with girls, like with you, but whenever I start courting them..." He shook his head in exasperation. "There’s just something wrong with me."
"Maybe there’s something wrong with them."
"You don’t have to be nice to me," he said, holding up a finger in mock disapproval. "Isn't it ironic? Finding love is hard is hard enough, but if you think about it, actually being in a relationship is maybe ten times as hard." He shook his head.
She shrugged. “You know what they say - life's not a bed of roses."
"But you’re wrong. Life is a bed of roses. Even roses have thorns."
She gazed at him in open admiration. "Amazing. You actually managed to disprove that age-old cliché."
"I like going against cliché."
"But if you really wanted to go against cliché, you wouldn't be giving her flowers."
"Oh, that’s not all I'm going to do." He winked.
She laughed, fondly patting his shoulder. "I should have known. You're too--"
"Weird?" He grinned impudently at her.
"I was going to say 'avant-garde' but I suppose 'weird' will do." Her answering grin was every bit as impudent as his. "So what are you going to do?"
"Let's leave that as a surprise."
"Oh, all right," she said, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. "You are putting a lot of effort into this, aren't you?"
"She's worth it." His eyes, still on the catalogue, softened. "Even if she says no, she's still worth it."
"Well, I hope she likes - whatever it is."
"Thanks for that vote of confidence." Well... so, how about red tulips?"
"That would be perfect!" she exclaimed. "I mean, red tulips mean, 'a declaration of ardent love,' which is exactly what you’re going to do."
"Ardent love?"
"You do love her, don't you?"
"Well, yes, but... ardent?"
"Why not? Are you not suffused with passionate, undying love for her? Do you not wish to hold her in your arms, caress her soft, lovely locks-"
"All right, all right, you made your point." He grimaced. "With that kind of language you should be writing romance novels."
"Nah. Romance novels do sell and all, but they give people the wrong idea. About love, I mean."
"Amen to that." One corner of his mouth curled up as he attempted a smile, but his eyes remained downcast. "It might be nice if relationships did work out that way."
"Ah, escapism," she murmured. "So half a dozen red tulips, then?"
"Yes, thank you."
She took out the order book, and wrote on a new page. "Her birthday's on Friday, right? Just come get it then. Are you going to pay now, or later?"
"How much is it?"
"Seven hundred and twenty pesos."
He sighed. "That much? I'll just pay it all Friday. Don't you have some sort of pre-Valentine's Day special or something?"
"Nope. Sorry."
"How about seven hundred pesos?"
"No."
He crossed his arms, and frowned at her. "What sort of a friend are you?"
"A richer one," she said, her arms also akimbo, a look of satisfaction on her face.
They both laughed again, heartily, and tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them with her apron, and shifted her attention to the claim form. She tore it out, and presented it to him with a flourish.
"There you go. I wish you all the luck in the world."
"You too," he said, taking the form from her, "Not that you need it, since lots of people probably give you flowers every year."
"Ha," she said, "Men don't give me flowers. I only sell it to them."
He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Thank you for being a wonderful customer, Roan. Have a nice day."
He returned her grin, although there was the faintest trace of puzzlement on his face. "One of these days you’ll have to tell me all about the meanings of the other flowers. Thanks for all your help."
"It was nothing, really."
"And rest assured, I'll tell my friends about this shop. Although,” he added, a twinkle of mischief in his eye, “I’m sure you'd get more customers if you'd give a discount."
"Don’t push your luck."
"Just kidding, of course." He started to walk away. The little bell tinkled once more, and he gave her one last wave.
He breathed in the warm afternoon air, sighing in relief. At least that was settled. He sauntered towards his car, humming under his breath.
The door to the shop suddenly opened, and the little bell tinkled so violently that it fell off the door. She rushed outside, and thrust a small package into his arms.
"I was kidding,” she said, panting. "We do have a pre-Valentine's offer."
He slapped his forehead, chuckling. "I should have known!"
“Shouldn’t you be used to me by now?” She beamed and handed him a flyer. "See? You get a ten percent discount on the flowers, plus that lovely gift package."
He scanned the flyer, and he raised an eyebrow. "What’s inside the package? You didn’t say anything in this flyer at all."
Instead of answering his question, she only turned her back on him. "Let’s leave that as a surprise." she said, throwing his words back at him. "Happy Valentine's Day, Roan. I hope you two will be very happy."
She picked up the little bell, and went inside. She looked at him, eyes shining in the sunlight.
"Thanks for all the help, Sal," he called after her, "You’re a great friend."
She only smiled, and closed the door.
He went inside his car, and opened the package, still humming as he did so. He smiled at the box of chocolates inside, and at the "The Language of Flowers" brochure, and--
He stopped humming.
Lifting the flower from the package, and he looked back at the shop. He got out of the car, and started walking, still holding that single yellow tulip he found inside the package.
the end