Joe's Bouquet

Before Joe turned the street corner, he heard the telltale sound of the rolling steel shutters that signaled the store was closing. Joe leaned heaving on his cane, the orthotics in the new orthopedic sneakers his wife had bought him doing more to create blisters than comfort. He stared down at the ugly orange shoes, they had been on sale and his wife just loved a sale. His wife, the flowers, he took a breath and trudged forward. Turning the corner he saw the smooth metal aluminum shutter covering the store entrance and a lock. Whoever worked there was gone. He cursed his old legs. The bright pink neon sign denoting Sammy's Flowers buzzed on mockingly in the fading light.

Small hands poked Joe's arm, waking him from where he'd nodded off in the Barcalounger. It was Abigail. He blinked himself awake, seeing a handful of his wife's dahlias, complete with some soil and dirt clasped firmly in her small hand. He'd nodded off when he was supposed to be watching her. Dammit.

"Help," she said holding up her bounty. His granddaughter could do no wrong but, these were his wife's prized flowers, she would be not pleased. "For grandma. The flowers need water."

His knees made a crunching creaking sound as he rose. At least I don't need a cane, he thought. His neighbor Frank had just gotten himself a walker. He'd rather be dead than be caught using a cane, thought Joe, willing himself to standing.

Joe found a vase in the cupboard and some scissors. He trimmed the flowers and put them awkwardly in with some water. He hid the rest of the roots and dirt, removing the evidence of the misdeed in the trash.

Mary returned a half hour or so later, to find Abigail and Joe playing cards. She looked to the dahlias in the vase and the five cards each in Joe and Abigail's respective hands. "Are you teaching her to play poker?"

Joe squirmed and gestured to the jelly beans on the table as Abigail popped a handful in her mouth. "Not for money." Mary made the face. Joe added desperately, "We got you flowers."

Mary looked out the window to spy a revealing open hole in the flower bed and harumphed, "Thank you, Abigail for the flowers," and then added with a glare "Your grandfather never gets me flowers, so I grow them for myself."

Abigail threw down five cards, "Full house, more jellies please."

A cupboard door slammed. Followed by the sound of ceramic hitting the floor. Joe stood disheveled from travel and still holding his suitcase. He ducked as a ceramic cup flew by his head and shattered on the kitchen tile behind him.

"Mary, calm down," he said, putting his suitcase softly down, hands up in surrender.

"Calm down?! Today, I had Rebecca corner me near the cold cuts to whisper rumors about what my husband was up to." A packet of sliced turkey flew by his cheek. "I hate salami Joe. But I had to pretend I needed all of this," a packet of cotto salami and then some sliced provolone sailed like ninja stars towards his torso. "No, I thought to myself, Rebecca is a horrible gossip. But then," Mary gestured to a wrapped rectangular box of candy on the kitchen counter, "you, Mr. I don't do flowers or random gifts, come home with candy."

Joe stood still, glancing from the box of candy, to his wife and then back to the candy. The girl at the counter had been attractive, "a handsome guy like him should take home some candy to his lucky wife", she said. He berated himself, she was just making a sale. He caught a glance of his reflection in the kitchen window. The graying temples, the emergence of wrinkles. He looked down at the hint of a paunch. The candy had been a mistake.

"I'm sorry," he said, excuses would get him nowhere. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

A loaf of sliced bread hit him dead in the face, "Make yourself a sandwich. I'm going to bed. And don't even think of sleeping anywhere but the couch. And if you don't know where the blankets are MAYBE YOU SHOULD PUT THEM AWAY SOMETIMES."

Joe looked at the cribs behind the nursery glass holding his son and his daughter and tried to breathe. He still felt like a teenager and at the ripe old age of thirty, he was a father. Of two! The two newly born babies were swaddled in blankets of pink and blue. Matching stripped stocking caps atop their head. The girl made a little face in her sleep that reminded him of Mary. Oh no, Mary!

Joe looked down at the giant, brown teddy bear he was clutching in his hands. He had to get back to her room. He looked up at the signs, which way was it? Maybe it was to the left. He walked down the hall but after he got to surgery he was forced to turn around. He'd been in labor and delivery for the past twenty hours, you'd think he knew where it was. He turned and went the other way.

After he'd passed the nurses station for the fourth time, a gruff nurse, perhaps used to confused and frazzled new fathers ventured, "Looking for a room?"

"Um, yes, my wife Mary, I forgot the room number."

After confirming their last name and that he did in fact belong in the nursery ward, Joe made his way to Mary's room.

She was fast asleep. He laid the bear in next to her and collapsed in a chair.

Mary's voice woke him a few hours later, "I've named him Sparkles."

"The child?" gasped Joe, jolting himself awake.

"No the bear," Mary laughed.

The midday sun glittered on the water of the lake. Joe's oar moved through the water creating a ripple. Across the boat, Joe looked at Mary. She sat poised in a bright yellow dress with a contented smile on her face. Her eyes were closed as she took in the warmth of the sun. Joe was sweating and it wasn't from the rowing. He'd had this all planned for weeks but now that he was here, in the boat, with Mary, he felt, well, absolutely terrified. He paused in the center of the lake as if to rest. He was in great shape, hell, only five years ago he'd taken his High School football team to the championship. His feinted break was so that he could check just one more time that the ring in his pocket hadn't fallen out and into the lake. An impossibility, but one of the many nightmare scenarios now coursing through his mind.

Mary turned from the sun and looked at Joe with those green eyes that never failed to stop him in his tracks, "Did you have something you wanted to say to me, Joe?"

Joe took a deep breath and put his hand in his pocket.

Joe leaned against the upholstered seat back and gazed out the window of the train. A train going the opposite direction passed by and Joe took in the faces of the passengers; a tired old man, a naughty child throwing things over the back of a chair, an arguing couple, two young people in love. As the train headed off and away, he looked down at his watch and realized he was late. His train had been delayed getting out of the city. He glanced down at his briefcase, stuffed to the brim with the promise of a weekend full of reading and briefs. Law school was weighing him down. Maybe he should skip tonight and just get to work. But he couldn't bail on Dave now, it was a double date after all. The train pulled into the station. Joe decided he'd have one drink. Then he'd make his excuses and leave.

Joe walked into the bar. The colored Tiffany lamps lit up the dark wood booths that were full to the brim with the happy hour crowd. He scanned the faces searching for Dave and his girlfriend without any luck. He glanced at his watch again. Thirty minutes late. Perhaps they had already left. He decided to make one circle of the bar. As he walked down an aisle of booths a green eyed girl looked up and caught his eye. She tossed her chestnut bob with a laugh, bringing Joe to a halt.

"Joe, there you are," said a voice just behind him.

Joe looked away from the green eyed girl to the two people sitting across from her and found his friend Dave and damn, thought Joe, what was his girlfriend’s name. He looked at the green eyed girl sitting across from them in the booth. She reached out her hand, "I'm Mary."

Still distracted by those green eyes, Joe went to hang his briefcase on the hook at the edge of the booth and slammed into a bus boy who was carrying a tray full of table settings. Napkins, silverware and vases with roses were sent flying to the floor. Joe bent down to help clean up the mess, finding his dress shirt was now splotched with water. Chagrined, Joe tried to gather his wits while helping the bus boy clean the mess. Joe got up from kneeling a few moments later. Just before he got up completely, he saw a single red rose lying near his knee and grabbed it. He handed it to Mary and gave a grin, "Sorry about that. I'm Joe."

Mary took the flower, "Are you a flower guy?" she asked eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Not really," said Joe, "but I figured after that entrance."

"Ah, so you're honest then. I like honest," said Mary.

Joe leaned on his cane and starred up at the blinking neon of Sammy's Flowers. He fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone. Perhaps he could call around for flowers? He pulled it out and looked at the screen. It was blurry. He patted the pockets of his pants. Dammit, he didn't have his reading glasses. He'd left them at home. He put the phone away. Defeated, he walked back towards the hospital empty handed.

Several hours later, Joe glanced out at the hospital window from the chair where he had spent most of the night. He recalled so many years before when he'd slept in just such a chair after his children were born. He moved his body and the ache of years passed over him, his joints angry at his choice of repose.

He looked at the sleeping face of his wife, still as beautiful as the day he had met her. The wrinkles and sags and crisp white hair were just a warm reminder of all the time they'd spent together. And now, he knew too keenly, they were near the end. He slammed his fist silently on the chair, angry with himself. Why hadn't he bought her flowers, every damn day of her life? To say he loved her, for all of it. Even the arguments. He was a stupid stubborn old man. And if he was honest, had been that way as a young man too.

The sun rose quietly, and warmed the inner garden courtyard of the hospital entrance below where a single cherry tree stood. As the light filled the space, the pink buds of the cherry blossoms from the tree burst into color.

Joe jumped, well more like creaked with maximum effort and significant groaning, to his feet. Mary stirred at the noise. She saw Joe and gave a weak smile, "Hey, Joe."

Joe moved about the room to get Mary into a nearby wheel chair. After making sure Mary was wrapped in as many warm blankets as possible, and with a promise that they weren't going far, Joe walked Mary down the hall to the elevator.

Joe pushed Mary through the sliding doors as the chill of the morning air hit their faces.

   "Are you warm enough?" asked Joe as he pushed.

"Yes, where are we going?" asked Mary.

Joe turned the corner into the garden, the giant cherry tree coming into view. Mary took a deep inhale smelling the rich fragrance on the air, "Oh, cherry blossoms! There is no better smell in the world."

He parked the wheelchair by the bench and took a seat by his wife. He put his hand on her lap and clasped her hand, "I thought it was about time I got you flowers. But then the store was closed last night so I thought, well, it was the best I could do."

Mary chuckled. That laugh, thought Joe, he loved that laugh.

"It's perfect, Joe. Well worth the wait," said Mary with a smile as she turned her green eyes on him, one last time.