“Thank you,” Mae replied, a little stiffly as she wasn’t expecting the compliment. “Nice to know that the product looks good.” She winced as she realised her mistake but hoped the girl hadn’t noticed.
She was relieved at the girl’s innocence, and latched onto her excuse. “Yes! They’re a rather rowdy crowd as you can hear but they’re just leaving.”
Mae made her way through the maze of plants so she was on the opposite side of the fence.
“You think so? That would be nice, although I doubt my cliente - friends would be interested in something so graceful.”
So instead Mae imagined herself and Jack out in the garden, their brand new Persian rug as a makeshift picnic blanket. The two of them dressed in white and he doesn’t make a comment about how dumb her large hat looks. Him feeding her finger sandwiches with the crusts cut off as she playfully bats his arm and his smile doesn’t drop and turn into a look of annoyance. The two of them lying on the floor, cloud-watching in the day and stargazing at night, talking, she’d let Jack talk mostly as he hated when she talked too much, he said she had more static than the radio or just enjoying each other’s company. Like the good times.
“I would like that very much.”
There was a sadness to Mae’s smile. She would love to get to know some new people and this girl certainly was sweet, but she knew the girl’s parents would turn down the idea, probably teach her a string of snide insults she was too young to fully understand. Moll, junkie, spinster, and those were the nicer ones.
She was going to ask the girl where “back home” was, but decided that was probably too personal and that she should start with the basics.
“Sounds like my Daddy’s old friends.” Lily smiles wryly. Of course, she doesn’t mention that said ‘old friends’ were a bunch of walking skeletons and corpses. Now, she wonders if they ever had garden parties or even gardens at all in the Land of the Dead. She supposes she’ll have to ask him before bedtime or maybe even Godmother if she’s able to slip through the veil and see her in her dreams tonight.
“I’m Lily,” the girl says simply, not feeling very much like giving away her full name on this lazy Sunday afternoon. “It’s nice to meet you. Are you a florist?”
She’s caught the mention of ‘product’, but of course, would never imagine it’s anything nefarious. She does, however, get the feeling that the woman is rather lonely and unhappy in spite of her wild parties and the array of plant life in her backyard. Perhaps they might be friends or at the very least, Lily could find some way to cheer her up before she has to leave.
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