I wander around the small shop, hesitant to open my mouth for fear of sounding stupid. Wishing I’d worn something a little nicer than my mustard-yellow shorts. Wondering if she can tell how nervous I am, and why.
She smooshes her lips into the cat’s fur and sets him back on the window ledge, where he curls into a velvety orange ball in the corner, near a display of succulents. I look above him to where a sign is taped, and read, in letters that bleed through to the back of the sign, HELP WANTED.
I point to it. “You’re looking for help?”
Her green-gold eyes follow my finger. “Oh, yeah. My aunt wants someone in here a couple of days a week so she can take some time to herself. Summers get kind of crazy with weddings and she always ends up working herself to exhaustion. She basically breathes this store—took it over from her mom, so she’s super passionate about it.” She looks at me. “Why? You interested?”
I shrug. “Maybe.” This is the first summer I’m old enough to have a part-time job, but Mom and Saul aren’t big on the idea. They’re of the “kids should be kids” thinking and would rather we concentrate on school and enjoy our summers than spend our free time working for minimum wage. It’s nice of them, but it would also be nice to earn my own money and have someplace to go a few times a week.
And to see Rafaela a few times a week, too, if I’m being honest.
“Well, it pays nothing,” she says. “But I’d be your boss, so it’d be low-stress.”
I look around at the green life surrounding us. “I don’t know anything about flowers.”
“They’re not such a mystery.” She beckons me over to a cooler full of pastel blooms, the petals bunched up to create a tight circle. Even among all the mingling scents of the flowers, up close I notice how good Rafaela smells. “These are peonies. We get a lot of orders for bridal bouquets made out of these. People freak out because they’re not available year-round—but they’re perennials, so if you plant them they’ll come back every year.”
She opens the cooler door and I lean my head in to smell them, close my eyes as I inhale their sweet fragrance. When I open them, Rafaela is watching me. I stand up straight. “So, you just know all that stuff off the top of your head?”
“Eh, you pick it up after a while.” She closes the cooler door. “Ora doesn’t make it easy to forget.”
Her aunt comes out from the back a few seconds later, laughing with Saul. Rafaela reaches into the cooler again, extracts a handful of flowers, and takes them to the back room without another word. I stand off to the side while Saul and Ora wrap up, gazing around the room at the endless rows of petals and stems and leaves, wondering if I’d ever be able to keep track of anything more than roses.
“Ready to go, kiddo?” Saul says, and I don’t mind that nickname from him, but God am I glad Rafaela wasn’t in the room to hear it.
“Um, yeah…” I look toward the back. I guess it isn’t a big deal that she didn’t stick around to say good-bye, but now I won’t have a chance to ask her about the job, and I’m too shy to bring it up to her aunt myself. I turn to Ora. “Nice meeting you.”
“Oh, nice meeting you, sweetheart,” she says, this time kissing both my cheeks. “Stop by anytime you’re in the neighborhood, okay?”
“Wait!” comes a muffled voice. Then the back door swings open and my heart jumps off beat. “You almost forgot these.” Rafaela holds out a square glass vase full of pink and white peonies, water swirling around the thick stems in the bottom.
I wipe my palms on my shorts before I take them from her. “These are really gorgeous. Thank you.” I don’t quite make eye contact. I stop somewhere along the smooth line of her neck. Which doesn’t do much to calm my nerves; it only makes me wonder what it would feel like to kiss her there.
“No problem,” she says. “I’ll get your number from Alicia and text you about the job.”
I nod, and Saul waits until we’re standing by the station wagon before he says, “Joining the workforce?”
“She said they need help part-time and I thought it might be a cool place to work. I could save for my Europe trip.” Which is impossibly far away, but maybe if I keep bringing it up, Saul and Mom will reconsider letting Lionel go next year.
He ignores that part, naturally. “Well, Ora is a good egg.” He pauses, looking at me over the top of the wagon. “And that girl seems nice, too.”
I can’t read his tone. Does he know? He and Mom wouldn’t care. I’m sure of it because for a while last year, they thought Lionel was acting so strange because he was hiding something; and they’re sort of hippies, so they automatically assumed he was struggling over sexuality instead of, say, drugs or mental illness, and initiated a big, unsolicited talk.
But now isn’t the time to tell Saul that I think I’m into girls. Not here on the side of Sunset Boulevard, with traffic whizzing past and people clasping iced coffees and an orange tabby sunbathing in the window of the shop behind us. Not when we’re museum-bound. He can think what he wants, but I don’t have to offer up anything he doesn’t ask about.
Besides, I’m not sure what to think myself. Before Iris, I thought I liked guys exclusively, even though the little experience I had with them felt more like playing doctor. I haven’t been attracted to any other girls… until now. Until Rafaela. And then there’s Emil, who was so nice and good to me the other night. He’s always been nice and good to me, but for some reason, this summer, I suddenly want to kiss him.
I’m jealous that DeeDee has known what she wants—who she wants—for most of her life. Even before I met Iris, I was tired of all the jokes and assumptions I’d heard about bisexual people: that they’re just being greedy or doing it for attention or trying it on for size “before they cross over to full-on gay.” Even with the little experience I had, it wasn’t so hard to imagine someone might be attracted to both—or more—options.
I don’t think I’m selfish for liking both guys and girls. I just wish it didn’t have to happen all at once.
seven.
I’m lying in bed, eyelids still heavy with sleep as I stare at the vase of peonies on my dresser, when there’s a knock at my door.
“Come in,” I say, grateful for the distraction. From thinking about the heady scent of the flowers and the position at the shop… and Rafaela.
Lionel pops his head in, hair still mussed from his pillow and sticking up in misshapen auburn spikes. “Hey, want to go for a hike over in Elysian?”
I rub at my eyes and sit up. I don’t like hiking or mornings, but if it means everything will be okay between us again, I’ll go. I look at him, try to gauge if he’s still annoyed with me, but he doesn’t seem upset. Lion and I never stay mad at each other for long, but after the way he left the tree house the other day, I wasn’t sure if that was still true. I’ve been giving him space and he’s been letting me.
I drop my feet to the floor. “Give me ten minutes?”