The bell above the door sounds throughout the shop announcing someone’s arrival. A quick glance at the clock on the wall lets me know that closing time is fast approaching. As a result of the positive change in mom’s condition, I’ve finally been able to return to my full time work schedule.

The biggest florist in town, combined with the most popular coffee shop; Tea and Leaves has been my second home for as long as I remember. A place I took for granted growing up, became my saving grace when adulthood descended on me abruptly. Mom had worked here my whole childhood, and when I needed a job, Mrs. Spinner, the owner gave it to me no questions asked. As she got closer to retirement, she offered mom and me to buy her out and be the new owners. She said it wouldn’t be Tea and Leaves without the Walker women. So we made it happen, and it was the best decision we ever made.

Even though I am the older sibling, I was never as focused on school as Avery. I took every day as it came and was all about living in the moment. I was a free spirit. Creative and chaotic, I was content with going with the flow, certain that wherever life took me was exactly where I was supposed to be.

My mother always said it was single handedly my best and worst trait. On one end, it meant I never made plans. And on the other, it made it easier to adapt and adjust to anything that came my way. Mom calls me The Chameleon.  

“Hello Mr. Lowe, you’re in late today.” Slowly making his way to the front counter, his usual chirpy demeanour is replaced by that of a frail and tired old man. “Are you okay?”

“No need to worry about me,” he dismisses, and I take a mental note to check with Greta, my full time florist, how he’s been the last few weeks I’ve been away. “I assume you being here means your mother is doing well?”

“Yes,” I respond excitedly. “Things are really looking up.”

“That’s wonderful, dear.” Leaning on the counter he places a hand on top of mine, “you don’t deserve to have so much on your plate at such a young age.”

Working at a place like Tea and Leaves is more than putting flowers together and serving drinks. It’s the simplest form of comfort and safety I have to offer the town I call home. A witness to both the happy and the sad parts of one’s life, flowers give respect to the different forms of love and loss people endure. And a hot drink, is the easiest way to have people spilling their secrets. These four walls are a vault, and in exchange for all their stories, it means they know all of mine.

“Oh, Mr. Lowe, I’m doing really well. There’s nothing for you to worry about.” Walking over to the display of gerberas, I pretend to mull over which flower to choose.

“Just the same this week, Luce. You know which ones Mary loves.” Searching through the different colors before me, I select only the best of the bunch. Holding four of each, I soon have a beautiful multicolored arrangement that would make any woman swoon.

Mr. and Mrs. Lowe have been some of our most loyal customers. Through different owners, renovations and every life event there is, they are either stopping in for cake and a coffee, or showing each other how much love they have for one using the simplest gestures.

Adding the finishing touches to the bouquet, I wrap a thick white ribbon around the base of the stems. “Mrs. Lowe is one lucky woman,” I say, handing them over.

“Not at all,” he chuckles. “It’s me who’s lucky to have her. Men were falling at her feet any chance they got; I never take for granted that she chose to spend the rest of her life with me.” The reverence and adoration in his voice pulls at my heartstrings. I wouldn’t know what a successful relationship is, or what it means to be in love. It’s not something I crave, or seek, but if there was ever a chance; I want someone to love me like that.

“Don’t worry dear, one day a man will realize how lucky he is to have you and that young boy of yours in his life.”

I cringe at the thought of being misunderstood, but realize there’s no use in trying to explain it. Lately it seems every conversation ends up with someone trying to impart their friendly advice on my love life, and now with Wes and Avery slowly taking steps in that direction, it seems everyone wants a happy ever after for the Walker sisters.

“Thank you, Mr. Lowe,” I say with a fake smile on my face. “I’ll see you next week.”

* * *

Sitting in the waiting room at the doctor’s office, I wait patiently for mom to come back from her routine, weekly check ups. Every alternate week, I’ve driven here with mom, straight after work, while Ave and Wes have Jeremiah time. When they’re done they meet us at home to see mom, and like a well practiced relay, we go on with our attempt at perfectly scheduled lives, till the next week.

Suspiciously checking my surroundings, I grab my cell from my bag and open the Timber app. After talking to Avery, and seeing how happy she and Wes are together I decided this might not be such a bad idea. Even if I don’t see being able to give myself to someone completely, the app gives me the privacy to not have to share the experience with anyone else. And I don’t have to leave my house to find out whether or not someone is worth the effort. Truthfully, for someone as busy as me, this is the only way I’m ever going to break my dry sex spell. And if it doesn’t work out, nobody will know but me - no harm, no foul.

I see a few messages that I choose to ignore, hoping that the online bio’s that read “want to know what fourteen inches feels like?” are automatically generated bots, and not that people of the opposite sex have completely lost their minds. Firstly, we all know your dick isn’t that big, and secondly I would be more likely to believe you if you could manage some simple pleasantries. I stop at one that’s ten days old, chuckling that someone would use Magnus Andersen as their username. He might be the name and face of Lumberjack Love, but there’s no way in hell a guy like him would be short on women.

Curiosity gets the better of me and I open up the message to see if it’s any more endearing than Fred with the fourteen inches. I’m surprised to see an abundance of succinct, awkward texts.

Magnus Andersen: Hi

Magnus Andersen: My name’s Magnus

Magnus Andersen: Shit, you already knew that.

Magnus Andersen: Sorry, I’ve never done this before. I just came across your profile and you caught my attention

Magnus Andersen: Fuck, I’m rambling and you’re not responding.

Magnus Andersen: I’m just going to let this go. Sorry for bothering you

A sneaky smile threatens to appear on my face, as I read his last message.

Magnus Andersen: You should know you’re beautiful.

Letting myself indulge in the compliment, I type out a message to the awkward yet adorable fake Magnus.

LadyLuc: Thank you