To a Better Place

Every person has their own happy place, whether it's the beach, the mountains, or some other gloriously privileged spot. The places people are the most happy in always seem to be in a spot of luxury, where the expenses are not usually worth the days off. No one ever looks at what they already have, what they've already seen, but I know I'm not like that. At least, I strive to appreciate what's in front of me.

--

"I can't tell you how excited I am for this years' show, Madeline! We are all counting on your efforts you know, but after last year..." Sheryl tells me. Sheryl is my boss, and she is a wolf in sheep's clothing to be frank. Last year, while I was showing Primroses assembled into an umbrella, she walked behind stage and demanded that the show must be stopped as a whole because not enough people were at the circus she paid to perform at the pavillion. I was disgusted. She and all my other coworkers had watched me endlessly assemble these flowers myself into dogs and sunshines and peacocks.

"I know," I reply with a bit of salt, "I haven't done anything as extravagant as last year". What did she even care? Because of my show the sales had gone up 20% and there was even a newscaster there to interview me, but that was all before the show got canceled.

"Have you checked the concessions?"

"Yes"

"What about the bathrooms?"

"T-that's not my job!"

"Our janitor called in sick, I think I might fire her... did I not tell you?" She faints shock as I stare at her with my mouth open.

"Sheryl, I am your florist, not your janitor. What about your son Dan? He's a janitor here!"

"I gave him the day off. Say, Maddie, I don't ever remember making this an option." I knew I was pushing it. I loved my flower show more than anything, and she can cancel it again if I push her to far.

"No you didn't" I say through gritted teeth, thick with attitude. Scarily, she didn't miss it either.

"My, my, you really need to learn to be nicer to your superiors. I can always have Rocky take over for you, you know. Just about six hours now until your cue. Get to the bathrooms, than to your stage."

I check my watch. 6:17 am. The park opens at seven and I'm already panicking inwardly that she'll cut my show short, or ask me a question at the end that I can't answer, or a newscaster will come to report our festival again and Sheryl will lead them to the craft table she has set up this year.

--

I walk to the bathrooms, passing all of my other coworkers frantically running around in last minute preparations to make Sheryl happy. I sigh as I choose the women's bathrooms first, as the men's are always absolutely disgusting. I look inside the bathrooms and my mouth falls open. It's spotless. I am absolutely dumbfounded. Who could've done this? I jog on over to the men's bathroom to see if it looks the same, and it's clearly only halfway done. I hear scrubbing in the corner and I turn to investigate. I gasp as I see an older woman of about 50 with a huge sponge scrubbing the floor weakly.

"Hannah?" I exclaim, "I thought you called in sick! You deserve every sick day you need! You've been working with us for 20 years now, ever since I started volunteering here as a teenager! Why are you working? Did Sheryl threaten you? I'll tell her once and for all this time..." Hannah holds up her hand.

"What Sheryl tells me is not important, why did she make you do the bathrooms? You have to set up all your flowers still!"

"She told me you called in sick..."

"I most certainly am sick, but when has that ever stopped me? Really, now, think of a time when I've missed a day."

"I don't think you ever have." I start to smile. I should've seen through Sheryl's lie before. She only told me that she was sick to stop me from setting up my flowers. What she didn't know, however, was that Hannah always washed in the morning too by her own will on special events days.

"Go set up your flowers now, we'll talk later!"

"You're the best, Hannah!" Looking back at her once more, I sprinted towards my awaiting flowers.

--

I stop at the entrance to the heart of the festival. I'm panting softly as I walk into what could easily be the next Disneyland. I start to walk through the now ready festival after an entire winter of planning. I check my watch again. 6:43. Less than 20 minutes now till the park opens. I walk through the trees, glance up at the sign that says, "March Into Spring 2021!", brush off the dirt on my brown skirt, and walk inside.

It's absolutely breathtaking. I've seen each and every float, concession stand, and activity, but never all together in one place. Maggie's stand, just to my right, where you make your own dreamcatcher, is glittering in the morning sun with dozens of her own specially crafted dreamcatchers looking as if they were worth millions. Jared's beehive shop to my left, where you can see a real beehive and buy honey from that exact beehive is incredible. And Rocky, my apprentice, is positively beaming at me in awe of it all. This is his first spring festival, and by the looks of it, won't be his last.

Then right in the middle, is the pavillion with crafts set up, but not as brilliantly and thoughtfully as the others. Sheryl's craft's look half hearted and sit there in the middle, as if trying to force the kids into making a necklace. I sigh and look away, determined not to be downed by this sad sight.

Then, next to the gift shop, is my stage. My stage. Do you know how good it feels to say that? I go to Rocky, and that's when I notice he's looking at me kind of funny.

"Something wrong?" He seems happy, but there's something off.

"What? Oh, nothing." He runs his hand through his sandy colored curly hair.

"Um, that's not good enough for me mister." We laugh.

"This is just all so awesome. Before I could never see why you were so excited, but this is so worth it."

"Isn't it?" Obviously, that wasn't what's "wrong", but I decided to not push it. He's only three years younger than me, I'm not his mother.

"Shall we get going then? We still have the Hyacinths, and the Daffodils..." He pauses to look at me, confused as to why I'm laughing my head off.

"Sh-Shall? Why are you being so formal? Now I know something is off!" And we laugh our way over to the Hyacinth chair.

--

There. All fifty of our displays are set, including the giant peacock made with Violas and Grape Hyacinths. I'm very proud of Rocky for coming up with that idea, and just know he'll be a famous florist someday.

In the distance I see a car pull in the park, and out hops a mother and her two children who look around six and eight. My heart gives a little jump of excitement as I exclaim, "The first people are here!"

And that was just the beginning. Around 9:00 am, mothers and fathers, grandmothers, and grandfathers all started to file in with their eager kids. They gazed and gawked, and for a moment I forgot that I was actually a part of all this. I was a part of the famous festival this park put on every year. I turn around and happily note that no kids have gone to check out Sheryl's place yet. On the other hand, they'd better or my show's going to be canceled again.

I head over to the little, "Plant your own flower!" stand he set up, where you can decorate your own pot, pour the soil, and pick your own flower seed to take home.

"How's it going?" I ask.

"Great!" he checks his watch on his phone, "Goodness, look at the time! Oh no, oh no, oh no..." he starts booking it to our stage, "God, Maddie, the time!"

I check the time. It's 11:30. How did time pass by so quickly? I follow him and we run to our stage, get dressed in our nicer clothes, and by the time we've gotten ready there is only 10 minutes until we go out on stage. We haven't even reviewed our lines yet. We quickly go over our introductions and I hop up on stage, "Happy spring everyone! Welcome to the 10th anniversary of our flower show!" Crap, I was supposed to say flower extravaganza. Hmph.

"Who would like to see some of our new flowers?"

Cheers from the growing crowd.

"Alrighty then! Bring the first one on out, Rocky!" Rocky gives me a thumbs up as he brings out a fairy of weigela flowers he made that looks beautiful. It's complete with the red weigela for the dress, white for the wings, and little pink feet. It's about as tall as... oh I don't know, an average ten year old girl.

One by one I describe each and every one of our sets. Then Rocky appears, clears his throat, and starts to speak right on his cue. But not what he's supposed to say.

"Hey now! Hey now! You think that was cool? All these spring colors, why not a little somethin' for us sporty folks? Bring it out, Hannah!" Hannah?

Hannah winks, disappears behind the curtain, and starts pushing out something from behind the curtains. When the curtains fall, my mouth drops. It's a full out race car complete with yellow daffodils for a steering wheel, orange tulips for flames, and deep purple primroses for the body. I turn to Rocky, unsure of what to say.

"H-how? This wasn't planned at all! We made a list!"

"Like it? I used the excess flowers you and I didn't use."

"This is gorgeous. I just don't know how..." We've been so busy, I don't even know how he managed this. Rocky turns away, and starts to address the awed crowd, which has now grown even larger, and a reporter is smiling.

--

When the show ends, I am feeling too many things at once. I am confused how Sheryl didn't stop our show, as there really wasn't anyone at any other station, and so very proud of Rocky. He is a freaking prodigy. The reporters are all over him, but I don't mind, I want to let him take all the fame he deserves from that masterpiece. I feel a bony hand on my shoulder and turn around. Sheryl.

"I couldn't get through the crowd to backstage." She says simply.

"Okay..."

"I'm firing you and having Rocky take over." She says.

"What but why? I didn't do anything wrong! If you want him to be the main florist, so be it! You said you didn't want anything extravagant, and so that's what I gave you! You didn't-"

"Yeah, see that's the thing, Sheryl. Neither of us will be working with you anymore." I turn around. Rocky, and someone I don't recognize.

"No Rocky, " I say, " don't give up your job with me! You can-" he cuts me off guard again. The audacity.

"You didn't let me finish. This is Scott Bernix. He'd like to hire us to join his group of florists who make art every year with flowers for huge parades all over the America. He said he's heard of our art before, and he thought he'd look into it. Well, I'm accepting the job."

I think about this. Leave the park? Leave my home?

"Look," I start to decline, "I don't think I can leave-" Rocky puts his hand on my shoulder, and whispers in my ear,

"You want to continue working for her?"

I smile, and whisper, "No. No I don't." We start to follow the judge, but then I take one last look at Sheryl and say, "Good luck getting a florist who's as good as us!"

And I enjoy the Spring festival at my park one last time.