The Reflowerey

April let the tea steep too long again. 

“Sorry Jamil, I have to take these samples to the back and start over. It’s bitter enough to wipe out a candy store.”

Jamil grumbled as April lugged the canister to their break room, passing through unbothered customers perusing the teas and flowers.

She did it on purpose. April liked oversteeped tea, and the break it gave her from passing fake smiles along with the tiny sample cups. The overpowering bitterness flooded her senses, letting her forget for just a moment what lay beneath. She poured herself a cup and closed her eyes. Out in the store, half the walls were lined with pretty tea tins of every flavor. The black varieties were her favorite, though the greens and florals got plenty of attention. The other half of the store was lined with flowers, giving the store an overpowering aroma and brightness. Sometimes, it was nice to take a moment in the plain break room, without all the color assaulting April’s senses.

“April! Special order!”

April groaned and put the canister on the sink counter. “Coming!”

She tromped out to the store and approached Jamil and the customer. April barely knew anything about Jamil. He had started only a week ago and still deferred to her on just about everything. April adjusted her silver glasses and swept a strand of long black hair over her shoulder.

“Can I help you?” She asked the girl, an orange haired young woman wearing more colors than all the tea tins and flowers in here combined. 

“Hi!” she said brightly, presenting a wilting lily in a green pot. “I heard about your reflowering services? I was wondering if you could help me.” Her chipper tone was offset by yearning puppy-dog eyes that begged to be helped. 

April scoffed. “Yeah, reflowering’s off the table. Do you live under a rock? It’s not legal anymore.”

“Oh,” the girl said. Her lily seemed to droop along with her. “I just thought . . . in this town . . . Manipu—”

“Don’t say that word!” April said too loudly. Other customers turned their heads.“Get over here,” April grabbed the girl’s hand and dragged her into the break room. Jamil lifted an eyebrow but didn’t stop her. She slammed the door behind her and turned to face the girl.

“Who are you?” April accused.

“No one!” the girl cried, setting the flower pot onto the table. “I just heard you did reflowering here. This lily was given to me by my brother before he passed away. I couldn’t bear to see it— it—”

The girl was about to burst into tears and April knew it. April released a sigh and handed the girl a tissue. “Fine. Sorry. You can get in a lot of trouble for throwing around the ‘M’ word these days. Are you not from around here?”

The girl dabbed at her eye and brushed a strand of orange hair from her face. “I’m from Miarta, next town over. But we . . .” she looked around anxiously. “We’re still practicing . . . you know what. I thought in a place like this, you might be too.”

This girl had guts if she was telling a stranger she was actively breaking the law. “Where are you practicing?” April hoped the girl didn’t take her for a narc. 

“There’s a bookstore in my town. It used to be Manipulator run. Full of books about our history, books of magic that taught the old ways. We’ve been using its basement to gather, and we’re trying to find more people willing to keep magic alive. Someone mentioned this place . . .”

The reflowery. Once known for its magic-infused tea and service of bringing dead plants back to life. April stared at the girl and glanced at the lily on the table. “I can do it. But don’t tell anyone. Got it?”

Tears reappeared in the girl’s eyes. “Thank you!” she covered her mouth. “Thank you,” she said more quietly. “I’m Demma, by the way.”

“April.” Poking her head out to make sure she wasn’t needed, April locked the break room door and got to work. It had been almost a month since Manipulation was made illegal. No exceptions. No loopholes. Well, unless you did it without getting caught, as Demma insinuated. April’s life had felt empty without her ability to do magic, unable to be filled even by the strongest cup of tea, the sweetest smelling flower. 

April took a breath and held out her hand toward the lily. A blue cloud emanated from her arm, her aura taking form. She had missed this feeling so much. The cloud surrounded the wilted lily, and in an instant, it revitalized. Its brown petals lifted, embodying a fullness, a brightness, as the green returned to its dark leaves and stem. It reached toward April’s hand as if it were the sun. There may as well have been a sun in April’s chest, glowing with joy, fire sparking the empty place that had been there so long. 

Demma gasped. “You did it. Thank you.” She extended her arm to caress the petals, the leaves, the stem. “It’s like it was when he first gave it to me. He might be gone but . . . I knew when he left I would always have this to remember him by. 

“What was his name?”

“Peter. He was very sick, and only Manipulator medicine was helping. The doctors were losing access to their resources leading up to the ban. And by the time doctors were choosing whether or not to practice in secret . . . it was already too late.”

“I’m sorry,” April said. She had been dealing with the loss of magic, but couldn’t imagine losing a loved one too. 

“At least I have this back,” Demma gestured toward the lily. “How can I repay you?”

The feeling in April’s chest was payment enough. But she didn’t want to think about what it would mean to let the emptiness return. “Take me to your bookstore. I can’t . . . I want to keep practicing magic. And, if you need it reflowered again . . . I’d be willing to give you another hand.”

Suddenly, Demma took April into an embrace, thanking her through tears.

April didn’t know what to say. Then offered, “Do you want some tea?”