“He loves me.” I had meant it to sound strong but it dribbled out, like weak spittle.
“You have talent. You have a future here. Do you know that?” Her voice was soft, but stern. Her eyes, over the brim of her glasses, flared.
“I’m not going anywhere, Elisa.”
“You say that now. Henry’s wife will not work as someone he, himself, could hire. These people, they don’t operate like that.”
“You have Nolan.” Elisa’s partner for the past thirty years was wealthy, in real estate. Prior to Henry, dating him, loving him, I’d never tried to attract men from these circles. Too high profile, too public. Henry, with long, strong hands, veined and powerful, molded me into someone new. Like putty.
“Nolan is not in the same league as the likes of Henry Whittaker. Believe me. You’ve been to their parties, their benefits, their galas. It’s a pretend world, Zoe. All diamond and glitter facade.” She moved closer to me, her breath hot on my face, her fingers wrapped around my bicep. “Made of glass and just as fragile.”
“I love it here. Okay?” I’d shaken my arm out of her grasp and she’d stepped back, shaking her head.
“Don’t lose you.” She stared at me, her eyes slits above the top of her glasses.
Who was that, exactly? She’d patted her hair back into place and huffed to the back of the room.
Henry and I married three months later. Shortly after that, I’d quit to travel the world, believing that the choices I was making had no repercussions, that my leaving would affect no one but me.
Now, Elisa is poised in front of me, a reminder that she is forever right. I am back to grovel for my position. Javi bounces back and forth on the balls of his feet in barely contained joy, his head bouncing back and forth between us, like he’s about to witness a fight. She points him to the back room and inside the small shop front, points to a chair. “Sit.” Javi shuffles through the metal double doors, and I’d bet my wedding ring he’s hovering, ear pressed to the crack between them.
The storefront is barely a store. It doesn’t serve to walk-ins, just by appointment only. It contains a desk and a large glass-front cooler. You can order small bouquets, exotic arrangements, mostly castoffs. If you know Elisa, she’ll make you anything. If you don’t, she’ll turn the door sign.
She busies herself pulling together blooms by color, as they arrive to the warehouse bundled by type and color. “You haven’t been gone so long.” Creamy peach roses mingle with apricot tulips, and I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. “I have no qualms with welcoming you back, Zoe. You’ve always shown huge promise as a designer. You have an impeccable eye for incorporating modern trends with classic looks.”
I nod. I’ve never gotten a compliment like this from Elisa. Ever, ever. Wait until I tell Lydia, if she still even cares. I can’t believe I had to wait until I was no longer working there to hear it.
I can hear Javi singing, his Barry White voice echoing off the concrete walls. I hear other voices, employees I no longer recognize, hired to process, leaving the design work to Elisa and Lydia. I know from experience that they’ve been at it since the wee hours of the morning. Weeks of large events, celebrity weddings, city galas, and once a mayoral ball: the days start at three a.m.
“What I’d like to know,” Elisa continues in her even, flat voice, “is why now? Why will Henry let you come back now? Will you just up and leave again when he says so?”
“Henry never asked me to quit. That was my idea,” I interject. It’s a true statement. We’d been traveling, sometimes weeks at a time, Paris, Rome, Madrid. Henry wanted to show me the world, and it was impossible to keep a schedule. Was I supposed to just tell him no? Madrid can wait—we have the Bankers’ Ball!
I had done things. I heard “Ave Maria” performed by a hundred-member a capella choir, in the Pantheon. I’d met the pope, shaken his wizened hand, his eyes kind behind papery, lash-less eyelids. Yes, I’d given up my little job in a fancy flower shop. No, I no longer dyed my hair fuchsia and purple. Were people not allowed to grow?
“People change, Elisa. I’m young. I had an opportunity to do something with my life. Outside of this city. When we came back, I decided to use my newfound money for something good and got involved in CARE. I’m allowed to do these things. Not you, or Henry, can change that.”
Elisa pulls out a large bundle of yellow roses and, mumbling to herself, she throws them in the large, green plastic trash bucket.