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“I wanted to surprise, um, Aleksandra with flowers.” I point in the direction I last saw the window box.
“She won’t like them unless they’re unscented, otherwise it’ll overwhelm her sensitive nose.”
I grin. So it wasn’t something she picked up working at The Playground. She’s always had a strong sense of smell.
“You’re better off planting flowers for another girl. I told you, Aleksandra’s taken.”
I shake my head, a sliver of light slipping through my eyelids, allowing me to make out Yetta’s form peeking around the corner of her front porch. She has a hand up to her face. I’m assuming to cover her tattoo.
“I can’t do that,” I tell her.
“Why not?”
“Because he’s the wrong guy for her.”
“And you’re the right one?”
“I’m the only one.”
There’s no sound for a solid minute, then a quiet, “Are you her husband?”
She must’ve figured out what year it is. On her own, too, because I didn’t correct her once.
Lowering my hands, I say, “Not yet.” I stick one out toward her and tell her, “I’m Reece Souza, your future son-in-law.”
Somehow, someway…someday…I’m gonna marry Lex.
Yetta’s laugh is the opposite of her daughter’s. It’s completely untamed.
I wish I could hear more of it.
I will.
Eventually.
She doesn’t shake my hand, just asks, “What flowers did you plant?”
I lower my hand and turn my head like I can actually see my work.
“Um.” I didn’t plant any.
I can plant flowers for her. Not tonight, but one night I will.
I turn back to Yetta. Lex told me her mom never leaves her house unless she has to, but here she is, outside, under the veil of night.
“Queen of the Night flower,” I tell her. “It’s a Cereus flower in the cactus family. It blooms one time a year, only at night.”
“Sounds special.”
I nod. “It is. It’s a symbol for enjoying the little moments.”Because they don’t last,I think, keeping the rest of the meaning to myself. “It’s said whoever sees one will have good luck.” Even though I’m not technically seeing Yetta, I’m still hoping that’s true.
After a long pause, she whispers, “I might miss it.”
“They take at least four or five years to bloom.” By then, I should already be out and have planted one for her.
Five years…it shouldn’t be that long. It better not be that long.
My dirt-coated fingers itch to claw at my prickly throat.
I promise her anyway, “I won’t let you miss it.”
“Well…” Yetta sighs and shifts. “If you’re serious about marrying Aleksandra, you’ll need to talk to her father, let him know your intentions.”
My lips curve into a smile. Whether she forgot her husband’s dead, or she’s so damn old school she expects me to go get permission from a fucking ghost, that asshole’s been made well aware of my intentions.
“Consider it done.”
