Page 97 of When You Had Me Adapting

We begin to walk toward the door. “Oh, a group of my friends and I won a weekend at a lake cabin for the Fourth of July. Did y’all get to see fireworks?”

“We did. They did a private show over the pond. It was nice. Did you know Eugene was in the Army?”

“I didn’t. That’s neat.”

“God, what I would have given to see him in his uniform…” We round the corner near the therapy gym at the same time the receptionist, Robin, comes from the other direction. She’s holding an obnoxiously large bouquet of dahlias. Each bloom islarge with a cream center that fades into lilac rimmed petals. It’s gorgeous.

“Oh good, Lacey. Just the person I was looking for. These were delivered for you.”

“For me?” I ask, admiring the arrangement.

“Don’t stand there like that girl. A man sent you flowers. Take them and see who they’re from,” Ms. Clara orders.

“You don’t know they’re from a man,” I laugh.

“Here let me follow y’all inside the gym,” Robin says, gesturing for Ms. Clara to continue walking.

I help her over to one of the mats and then meet Robin to take the vase. I set down the arrangement on one of the office desks and pluck the little card from the middle of the flowers.

Yesterday was incredible. I can’t wait to see you when I get back.

–J

Yesterday was incredible and I haven’t stopped thinking about that kiss since it happened. My stomach does a flip and butterflies erupt inside of me. Inhaling deeply, I tuck the card back into the envelope and then deep into the pocket of my scrubs. I’m at work. I need to remain professional.

“Alright, sorry about that. Let’s get started,” I say, grabbing a basket of towels and walking back over to where Ms. Clara sits.

Ms. Clara eyes me. “You weren’t expecting those were you?”

“No, I wasn’t.” I pull over an adjustable table and set the basket on top. “Let’s start with folding these towels.”

The conversation I had just minutes ago with Ms. Clara in her room replays in my head. Surely, she’s mistaken. Men buy flowers for women all of the time. Right?

“Remind me why I’m having to do laundry?” She looks at the basket and her brow furrows.

“Because it works on your range of motion and when I put the basket over here,” I roll the table to Ms. Clara’s left, “and you reach for the towels with your right hand, it works on your trunk control too.”

She lets out an annoyed breath and grabs a towel with her right hand. “So, are they from a man?” she asks.

“Yes.” I smile, walking across the gym to find a stool to sit on. “A friend sent them.”

She starts laughing. “Oh, honey, friends don’t send arrangements that look like that.”

I grab a stool and roll it over to where she sits.

“Is it your birthday?” She has yet to start folding the towel.

“Huh?”

“The flowers. Did this friend send them for your birthday?”

“Oh no. My birthday’s in December.”

“Are you sick then?” she asks, still not beginning.

“No, I’m not sick. Let’s fold that one and then grab another one.”

“Someone die? Anniversary? Job promotion?” she presses. “If a friend sent them, then he must have had a reason.”

---