He used to send her flowers at work. Every Monday morning a bouquet would arrive, no card. Sometimes they were lilies, sometimes daisies or lilacs. Never roses. She remembered a small bouquet of red tulips, on her birthday. And a basket of sunflowers after their first holiday together. She would keep them in her office for the week, in the same crystal vase an old client has brought her. Until the next Monday, when the new ones would arrive. Week by week, bouquet by bouquet, months were passing, and the cleaning man was smiling every Friday night at the sight of the new flowers, slowly fading at the corner of her desk.
Month: April 2016
“You know, sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t quit my job. The pregnancy came as a surprise, and I wanted to keep her, but I shouldn’t have quit”. Pause. She is smoking, staring at the lake. The beer is getting warm on the table, birds are singing in the background, the sun reflects on the lake. I am sitting next to her, I am staring at her profile, at her eyes that are restlessly moving, barely ever meeting mine. Our shoulders meet, it’s the first time our bodies touch for so long; she did not move, I did not either. The very first time I feel her warmth.
He said he would come by around 10. They had their first group assignment at the University, he was sitting across her at the tutorial room. The rest of the students knew each other, groups formed quickly. At the end it was only her and him left, the newcomers, the foreigners. She was blushing, she could feel her cheecks changing colour, her voice was trembling slightly. Yes, sure they could work together. Hi, Lydia. Nice to meet you, I ‘m Boris. Firm handshake, hers was always weak and sweaty. On Saturday morning. No, the library was too crowded. He had two flatmates, it was always noisy in his home. Her place? Kate was going away for the weekend, she would be alone. Sure. Can I have your number, just in case I don’t find it? She had to look her number up in her mobile, she could never memorise it. Made him laugh. See you on Saturday then.
Lila was hangovered. Her headache was banging in her head like a bullet, bouncing from one corner to the other. Her feet were hurting; the new heels have been less comfortable than promised by the sales girls. They were nice heels, expensive heels, but they were made for girls that would go from their apartment down to a car -or at least a taxi- waiting on their doorstep, then to an expensive restaurant, sitting comfortably on a red velvet stylish chair, high back and golden details on the wood. A dance or two, nothing difficult. Then back in the car, then at the building’s entrance, a good-bye kiss or two, or maybe you wanna come upstairs for a last drink?