Trying To Remember

I've just finished reading the final draft of a novel so brilliant that I'm actually dazed today, in such awe of the way the writer pulled it all off.

I find that now that I've finished it I can't concentrate on anything else today.

This feeling is making me wish I could remember how, and why, I used to write the way I did just a couple years ago.

Why I write at all- and especially why lately I say that I 'used to' write instead of 'I'm a writer'.

Maybe it's just been too long.

Maybe it's just that so much is going on with me medically that right now I can't remember how good it felt- how driven I used to be, unable to sleep, kept awake by the stories the characters all had to tell me and just trying to take them down as quickly as I could.

Whatever it is, I'm trying (still) to remember today how it felt to write fearlessly, and looking at a bunch of flowers I bought this week in sheer and utter defiance of the fact that all the leaves are dying-- I started thinking about my first novel manuscript. There is so much I want to do with it- I know that there's heart there, yet. I just don't know where to begin.

So I think it's time to pay a visit to an old friend: the character who stole the show in my FIREWORKS FLOWERS, one aspiring writer/coffee shop manager, Aidan Flynn.

Hope you enjoy the visit, too. And the photo.  The cat has tried to eat these more than once- I have video proof. I may have to post that later...

--

Aidan darted around the corner just as Mrs. Beatty turned over the ‘closed’ sign affixed to the front door of Jewel Box Gifts and Flowers.

“No, wait, please!” He tapped on the glass and she looked up at him over the bridge of her nose. Spectacles, suspended from a chain around her neck, were quickly elevated by her hand up to her eyes. She peered through them without putting them on, wrinkling her nose to punctuate her disapproval.

“We’re closed, young man. If you want flowers try MegaMart."

“MegaMart doesn’t carry carnations..."

“Come back tomorrow," she interrupted. "We’ll sell you all the carnations you want then.”

He turned and pressed his back against the door. “What’s the matter with me?" he muttered, running a hand back through his hair and then down over his beard. "She’s getting married, what good will flowers do anyway?”

Now Mrs. Beatty recognized something familiar in the voice issuing from beyond the barrier. She put her glasses on all the way and peered out from between the panels of sheer pink curtains.

"Hey. You’re the young man from the coffee shop.” Her demeanor changed, but still she opened the door only a crack. “You really need carnations?”

“Like I have never needed a flower before in my life.”

She sighed. “Well, do you want them arranged? Because if you do there is no possible way that I can-”

“No. Just a big bunch. If you sell me some ribbon I can tie a bow around them myself. I just need a huge bouquet of those specific flowers in a hurry.”

She thought back to all the times he’d opened up Run Aground a few minutes early to sell her coffee so she could get in and do the books before the customers started to arrive. She thought of all the small kindnesses she’d seen him show to others. Again, she sighed. “But the till is counted and the register is closed...”

“I’ll come back and pay you tomorrow. Or I’ll leave this here..." he began pulling crumpled dollar bills from his pockets and holding them up on display, "and you can just keep the change, whatever it is. I don’t care.”

She considered his pleading tone and expression carefully before responding.

“Mostly I have mini carnations left this late in the week."

“Anything.”

She finally opened the door and allowed him in. She switched on the lights and moved toward a large refrigerator in the back. “Any specific color?”

“Anything that looks like fireworks.” Aidan whispered, which prompted her to ask him to speak up.“Anything," he repeated. "Everything. The more colorful the better. Please.”

Within two minutes she had a huge bundle of flowers all tied up in a lovely bow made of pure white, satin-trimmed tulle. Aidan’s lips parted in surprise and he nodded once with gratitude.

“How much do I owe you?”

“A double espresso and one of those decadent little chocolate cheesecakes you sell ought to do it.”

He actually leaned over and kissed her quickly on the cheek.

Her cheeks flushed and her hands shooed him back. Such a fuss he was making over a few dollars worth of carnations. “That, and you have to explain to me why it is you needed these in such an all-fired hurry.”

“I will, I promise. Thank you. So much.” He dashed and she locked the door behind him; wistfully remembering a time when there was a sweet young man who brought her bouquets of daisies because he couldn’t afford roses. 

~February Grace