Page 16 of Scar Tissue

We? Maybe he does have a girlfriend after all. But he said it was a work thing…unless she works with him. It’s not outside the realm of possibility. If that’s the case though, I don’t want to be there. My chest aches subtly at the idea and I think about ignoring his text, like I would’ve just days ago.

Who’s we?

But he doesn’t respond. Five minutes go by. Then ten. Finally, after my chai has long since gone cold, I notice that it’s been thirty minutes, and I’ve resigned myself to the fact that he isn’t going to respond to me. That only has the weight in my chest settling further. Not because I think anything happened to him, but it’s evident he was driving when he sent me the first text. So he’s either willfully ignoring me, not wanting to answer the question, or his phone died. I’m not foolish enough to think he wasn’t paying attention to my responses. With his line of work, having his phone on him is almost a necessity. Fine. If it’s that important then he can text me when they get back. Scooting my chair back, I pick up the still full, chilled chai and drop it in the trash can as I exit the café. I could call another Uber, have them take me farther into the city, but I don’t exactly have the funds to pay for a longer trip, so I decide to do some sightseeing on my feet.

I pass small boutiques housing a variety of goods from clothes toflowers to handmade jewelry, all mom and pop shops in a world lost to chains and enterprises and corporations where CEOs make too much and their employees too little. There’s a small bakery on one of the corners where the scent of fresh bread and pastries wafts from the open door. Further down, a small record shop sits tucked between a bookstore and a vacant lot. There is a couple who stands outside; they’re older, likely in their sixties or seventies, and they’re laughing. At one point, I could picture Lucas and I standing there, but that image of him and I is nothing except a bit of scar tissue nagging at a future that no longer exists.

When I come to the end of the shops, I loop back around on the opposite side of the street when I come across a floral shop that’s hiring. Foregoing college in an effort to play housewife, I don’t have much experience in the workforce. My plan was Hallie. Of course, that didn’t mean I didn’t have aspirations or dreams, but I was never one of those people who thought school or a degree meant security, either. In high school, during the academic year, I worked part time as a waitress in a restaurant. On the weekends and during the summer, I increased my hours there and worked in a floral shop as well. There’s something peaceful about being surrounded by flowers, and it isn’t just because their stories are colorful. They demand gentleness. Too heavy a hand, the wrong soil composition, the wrong water ratio, and they wilt—forever one with the wind. But when treated with care, they bloom in the quiet…when no one is watching.

Flowers hold their own power because their beauty doesn’t demand force. It simply exists. There is no way for us to change what they are. A rose is a rose. A lilac a lilac. A tulip a tulip. You cannot make a rose become a tulip no matter how hard you try, and vice versa. If only more people treated each other the way we treat flowers, I think we could learn quite a few things—that life thrives best when we foster a nurturing disposition. Too bad we’re inherently selfish. The door chimes when I enter, the sweet smell of the shop hitting my nose as I inhale.

“Be right with you!” A soft feminine voice comes from the back as I browse the collection. The assortment of colors brings a smile to lips as I take in the way they pop amongst the green and pink walls and tables that line the shop. Twinkle lights hang along the ceiling with glass bowls that house the lightbulbs. The walls are lined with pieces of artwork that match the optimistic vibe of the place, and a pop tune is playing in the background. I think it’sSnow on the Beach,by Taylor Swift. “Sorry about the wait! How can I help you?” The voice is suddenly closer and it makes me jump as I’m once again knocked out of my stupor.

My gaze snaps to her and I’m met with bright baby blues and dyed hair that matches. Her hair is pulled into a messy bun, and a pink bandana is wrapped around her head as a headband.

She stands slightly shorter than me, but she can’t be any older, either. She’s dressed in overalls that are technically shorts—they have a name for them—I think shortalls? I don’t know. But they’re unhooked on one side and her hands are dyed brown and green from whatever she was working on before I interrupted.

“Hi, uh—I saw the sign.” I throw my thumb over my back to the hiring sign. She beams up at me. “Oh, great! You want an application?”

I nod as she leads me to the checkout counter where she kneels behind as she searches for the form before handing it to me. “What’s your name?”

My hand grasps the application as I look over it on the counter. “Thea.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Thea. I’m Pepper. I manage the shop.” She holds her hand out to me and I take it.

“I’m going to be frank; I don’t have any work history from the last seven years. I’d love to fill this out right now and give it back to you, without a resume. I swear I have experience around plants, though.” And I’m rambling.

She just smiles at me, unbothered. “That’s fine. We haven’t had much interest anyway, and I really need to cut down on my ownhours. It’s mostly just me here throughout the week. I occasionally have help but they’re a student with a busy schedule so they’re only here when they have a free minute. Are you a student?”

I start scribbling my information on the form as I respond to her. “No, actually. I just moved up here in the last week and was needing to get back on my feet. So I’m very available.” And it was true. That doesn’t mean I want to work every day, but it would be nice to be able to have something to do, let alone have something for myself that wasmine.Something that isn’t tainted with memories of the past.

“Well, this is the place to do it. The pay is okay, starting at eighteen dollars an hour. Makes it fairly competitive in this area. We don’t have any benefits aside from sick time, though. So if you want to take any time off, it wouldn’t be paid. Your sick time accrues at one hour for every thirty hours worked per Virginia law. The owners at least see it as a necessity for people to take care of themselves if they come down with somethin’. Want us to be able to support ourselves when life hits.” She shrugs and I continue to write my information down, nodding in understanding before my phone starts buzzing repeatedly.

“Excuse me.” My phone lights up with Nathan’s name across the screen as I step away from the counter and answer.

I barely have a chance to get any words out before he’s talking in my ear. “Where are you?”

“I’m out.”

He huffs out a breath on the other end of the line. “Yeah, I got that, Thea. I thought we were meeting back at the house?”

I hesitate answering, weighing my words carefully. “I didn’t realize it was a demand.”

“It wasn’t—it wasn’t a command,” he stutters. “But I have someone with me I want you

to meet.Needyou to meet.”

“Is it so important it couldn’t wait? This is my first time out of the house since I got here and I’m kind of busy applying for a job.” Ichance a glance back toward the counter where Pepper is now helping a customer check out.

“Why are you applying for a job?”

Is he really asking me that? “I can’t exactly continue to live off of your generosity, Nathan. I also can’t continue to live my life between my room and our living room, either. I need something to keep me busy, and the sooner I can get back on my feet, the better. For everyone. I have to start supporting myself.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line before he answers. “Our living room, huh?”

I can feel my cheeks heat and hide my face even though he isn’t here to see me. “Don’t make this something it isn’t.”

But I can already tell he is from the smile I hear in his voice on the other end of the line. “I’m not doing anything. Now tell me where you are so I can come and get you.”