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Soft 50s music played through a speaker, adding to the warm sunlight streaming in through the large shop windows. Gar Logan stood behind the counter opposite the door, and held a plant mister up to a just budding flower - giving it a few spritzes to keep it hydrated. He loved this job. Calm. Stress-free. He learnt a lot too; about flowers, about people. What he loved most was that it was a family business (of sorts). Doom Patrol Flowers was run by Rita, Larry, and Cliff. The three had met at a support group for people who’d suffered life-altering accidents/incidents, hence the name ‘Doom Patrol’. Rita took Gar in after he lost his parents, and he’d been with them ever since. The shop prided themselves on having flowers for any occasion, and their customer satisfaction was through the roof.
The bell above the door jingled, signifying a customer had come in. Gar was just putting the potted plant onto a shelf as he acknowledged the customer, “Just one second-”
Once he was sure the plant wouldn’t fall off of the shelf, and that it’d get enough sunlight, he returned to the counter and finally looked towards the customer.
A girl, around his age, stood in the centre of the room; dressed in black with gothic elements, she stood out amongst the bright blooms covering the shop walls. Her hair - brightly coloured like Gar’s, except it was a blue and not green like his.
A little struck by her contrast, he asked, “Are you looking for flowers?”
To which she replied, “No, I’m looking for a book.” Sarcastically, but not mean.
Gar let out a laugh, trying to save his stupidity, “Sorry, I meant, are you looking for something specific?”
The blue haired beauty took in a breath and scanned the walls. “...I have no idea what I'm looking for.”
“That’s okay, I’m here to help. What’s the occasion?”
“What flowers say: ‘You’re better than my real parents?’ ”
Gar was starting to learn her sense of humour.
“Or how about: ‘Thanks for adopting me’, you got any of those? ”
His eyes flicked away from her, clearly trying to remember something. “Actually-”. He moved from behind the counter and walked over to a bunch of flowers near the window.
“These are often used to express gratitude, and these-”, he pointed to another bunch, “can represent family, or a soft love.”
“Oh! That’s perfect. I’ll take those then.” She smiled at him. Something about her smile made his heart flutter a bit. Over the time Gar had worked here, he’d realised how much he enjoyed helping people. Clearly this girl needed a bit of help, as implied by her humour, so he was more than happy to oblige. He took the bunches back to the counter, pulled some brown paper and florist’s tape from a drawer, and began to work. The girl stepped up to the counter, money in hand, and watched intently as he arranged the flowers; taking off extra leaves and trimming the stems to be even.
Now she was closer, his darker coloured eyes met her black-eyeshadow-outlined, light blue ones, and he shot her a smile. He was proud of his work, and liked to show people that. More often than not, when he was positive when making bouquets he found that they lasted longer.
“Not that I actually care- but do these really mean gratitude and family? Or are you kidding?”
“I’m serious.” He stated, almost offended that she thought he’d lie to her, “Flower language is ancient, but was very popular in the 19th century. Lots of people picked it up as a hobby, and people now still reference it.” As he finished his sentence he tied a ribbon around the bouquet, and placed it in front of her.
She handed over the money and as he put it in the cash register she brought the bouquet up to her nose and inhaled their sweet scent. Something about it, about her, was so sweet - Gar thought to himself. Interrupting the - unknowingly shared - moment, her phone buzzed like she’d gotten a text message.
“I should get going.” She said as she picked up her bouquet, giving Gar somewhat of a sad smile.
“Oh wait!” He picked up a flower from a bunch near the counter. “First-time-buyer gift.” He handed it out to her, and she took it from him. Time somehow felt like it was moving slower as she did so.
“Well, I wont say no to free things. Thanks…” Her eyes flicked to his name tag, then back up to his eyes, “...Gar.”
He very much liked the way his name sounded in her voice, and he watched as she turned and left the shop - his bouquet in hand. As she disappeared out of the frame of the shop windows, Gar let out a sigh and said out loud to the empty room, “I didn’t ask her name. Or her number.”
“That’s 'cuz you’re a loser.” Cliff’s joking voice filled in the silence.
And then Rita’s motherly one, “She seemed to like you, maybe she’ll be back.” Gar was listening, but he still just stared at the door, replaying the girl’s movement in his mind as Rita continued talking.
“Afterall, flowers don’t last forever.”
This was the only time Gar had ever wished his bouquets to wilt fast.
~
Rain pitter-pattered gently against the shop windows. Mixing in with the 50s music playing over the speaker, as it often was. Gar moved the still budding plant from one end of the shelf to the other, deciding it needed more light to bloom and could get it by the window.
Behind him, the bell jangled and the rain pattered louder until the door shut again.
As he turned to greet the customer, his heart skipped a beat when she pulled down her pointed coat hood to reveal that hue of blue he had been desperate to see again for the past week.
“Hi,” She said.
In return he smiled, “Hey.”
While she attempted to smile back, she shivered a little - clearly a result of having walked in the rain.
“Oh! There's a heater back here.” Gar gestured with his head towards the counter at the back of the room. The girl followed him over, slightly huddled into herself as she began to feel the temperature change.
“I'm glad you're open, I would not have been happy to walk home in the rain empty handed.” She told him, glancing at the flowers decorating the wall.
He followed her gaze, trying to figure out which plant she was admiring. “What're you looking for this time?”
“Something to liven up my room a little. It's very dark - which is how I like it - but it needs something.”
As his mind flicked like a rolodex; so did his eyes, at the various shapes and colours of flowers stacked around the walls. Wondering what would work best.
Gazing over a particular flower, he tilted his head slightly - suggesting his brain agreed with what his eyes were taking in.
The girl watched intently as he plucked a few of the best blooms of that bunch, and some from another, then turned and crossed the room to grab a couple from another bunch.
Once again, he began to work his magic at the counter. Plucking, trimming, tying, arranging.
The two teens were silent. The rain, music, and cutting sounds all melded together into soft ambience.
Which the girl then disrupted - but for good reason, “I forgot last time, but my name’s Rachel.”
“Rachel,” He repeated, with a warm and soft tone. Paired with his signature grin.
As much as he enjoyed looking into her pretty eyes, he had to keep breaking eye contact so that he wouldn't cut himself. But he wanted to keep interacting with her. He didn't know what to say, neither did Rachel apparently , so they just returned to being quiet.
Until…
“I like your hair.”
“Your hair's cool.”
Their eyes met and their voices overlapped, with Rachel speaking first by just a moment.
They smiled in unison. Finally he thought of something to say, one of the things he'd been wanting to ask for about a week.
“So, you liked the last bouquet?”
“Yeah, very much.”
“I'm glad.” He pulled some ribbon out of the pocket of his apron, “I hoped you'd be back,” he confessed.
She spread her arms out, “Here I am!”
Gar noticed how her sleeves partially covered her hands, and how it was intentional because of the thumb holes. A cute characteristic, he thought.
As the song that was playing finally faded out, he finished his bouquet. As he handed it to her, and she handed him the money for it, a realisation washed over the pair as they acknowledged they would now separate.
Rachel looked out the window, and frowned. The rain hadn't gotten better, but it also hadn't gotten worse - yet.
“I should go before it gets worse out there…”
Gar nodded understandingly, as she turned.
Lifting her hood back over her head, she faced the shop boy once more, “Bye, Gar.”
The bell jingled, and the rain sounded louder.
“Bye, Rachel.”
Then the rain muffled more, and the bell jingled again.
In a single moment, she was past the shop windows - out of his view, again.
A sigh escaped his nose, then a smile crept onto his lips as he thought about how she returned to him. Wanting another of his bouquets.
Larry's voice called out to him from the doorway between the shop floor and the back room, “Maybe you can ask for her number next time.”
Immediately Gar's smile dropped into a small frown as he mentally berated himself again.
Now he just had to hope he'd see her walk past those windows another day, wanting another bouquet.
How long could this one last anyway?
~
Humming along to the song playing in the shop, Gar loosely waltzed around the shop floor. There wasn’t much to do this day. Though a man did come buy some flowers earlier, Gar had not had any customers in since the morning. Doom Patrol Flowers was a thriving business, always selling flowers - for any occasion. But occasionally, it was quiet.
Until the bell rang.
The teenage boy took in a breath, mentally preparing himself to deal with the customer he was about to turn and face.
Oh what a wonderful face it was. ‘Rachel,’ he said in his mind while his lungs slowly exhaled and his shoulders dropped. A toothy grin met his lips. A closed, but sweet, one was returned to him. As was… another smile?
Plum coloured lipstick, dark skin, bright reddish/pinkish curls - this was not a woman Gar had seen before. But using his keen, - some people (himself) would describe as primal - intuition and observation skills; He deduced that this lady was likely to be Rachel's adoptive mother.
The lady looked away from Gar to look at Rachel, then looked back at Gar. “Do you think you could help us, young man?” She asked with a warm tone. Something about being called a ‘Young Man’ felt very flattering to Gar, and of course he’d be delighted to help.
“Of course I can, what can I do for you?”
“We’re looking for a bouquet for the dining table.” When she broke eye contact to peruse the various flowers decorating the walls, Gar snatched the opportunity to glance at Rachel. The black, alternative outfits she had worn on previous visits - and today - were different to the aesthetic of this lady. Holographic purple was quite a fabulous statement for a bodycon dress, grouped with fur coat and thigh-high heeled boots. 1980s Pop Star was not the usual character that this 1950’s jazz-playing, small sized, family-run, florist’s often saw. Though Gar was intrigued by this third member of the brightly-coloured hair club.
That being said, Rachel’s lack of eye contact and dialogue suggested that she was feeling the same as him - having her mom here was a little awkward. Gar knew he needed to be professional, so that’s what he’d do. He also knew that he really needed to ask for Rachel’s phone number today, or else Cliff and Larry would never let him live it down and he’d spend the rest of his life hiding behind Rita who’d try and protect him from the mocking laughter.
“Kory, what about these?” Finally Rachel spoke, her voice as pretty as Gar remembered. He and Kory, as he’d try to remember, looked to where Rachel had gestured; a bunch of bold coloured flowers near the counter.
“Those make a great eye-catch for any room, and pair well with these,” He informed them as he danced around the counter and some boxes that were left unpacked, “which smell great. Very sweet.”
The two ladies moved over to where Gar was standing, wanting to closer observe the florals. Three’s a crowd, as they say, so Gar decided to move back to the counter, preemptively collecting the brown paper and ribbon as he went. When he glanced back up, Rachel’s black eyeshadow-lined eyes were closed as she had leant in to smell the flowers. Several other flowers crossed his mind which each had a wonderful scent that he’d love to show her. There was something amusing about a gothic and slightly gloomy girl like her taking an interest in something so light and pleasant. Having decided she liked those ones, her eyelids opened and she nodded to Kory - who whispered something to Rachel.
“He’s checking you out.”
That’s what Gar heard at least. He twisted a pot on the opposite wall that had a just-blooming flower in it, for no reason other than he felt a light heat rest on his face and wanted to hide.
“Gar? We’d like these, please.” Rachel had placed some flowers on the counter, as Kory did the same with the other bunch he suggested.
Like the other times, he got stuck into his work. It was like a superpower. His two customers watched intently as his hands moved as if choreographed - then holding still, palms up, either side of the finished bouquet. Back in retail mode, he told them the price.
Which honestly didn't matter, because Kory paid him more than asked for in cash. “Keep the change, for excellent service,” She said as she gathered up her bouquet.
Slightly bewildered, “Thanks,” Gar told her.
“Enjoy!” He looked to Rachel, wishing they had more time to chat, as she took Kory’s arm to walk home.
“We will. Bye, Gar.” She called back to him over the jingling of the bell.
“Bye, Gar.” Kory said, with a playful tone that matched the comment she ‘whispered’ earlier.
The two walked hand in hand out of view.
Immediately the boy turned his attention to the unpacked boxes, which he would now spend however long it would take to unpack them, as punishment.
Once again, he didn’t ask for any of her contact details.
Though- she didn’t say much to him today…
Did she not like him anymore?
Maybe it was just because Kory, her mother, was with her?
Guess he was just going to have to wait for that bouquet to wilt too and find out.
~
Rita sang along to the music that played as she carried potted flowers from the back room onto the shop floor. Gar appreciated the company as he watered the blooming flower on the counter that he had so patiently nurtured.
“That’s a pretty one, isn’t it?” Rita commented as she wrapped her arm around Gar’s shoulders. The two stood there behind the counter, admiring the flower, when the familiar sound of the bell brought them back into the room.
Gar’s eyes lit up when he saw her. His favourite customer. ‘His Girl’ as Larry and Cliff started referring to her as.
Rachel.
He noticed that her beautiful indigo hair had been gently curled, and partially tied back to show her face more. Her typical black eyeliner made her light blue eyes stand out - she blinked and Gar could've sworn the world was in slow motion.
Then her pretty eyes flicked away from Gar, and then he remembered that there was a third person in the room.
“Gar, if you need me, I'll be in the back room,” Rita’s red lips curled into a small, knowing, smile as she slipped away and left the two teenagers alone in the shop.
The girl broke the silence first, “Hi.”
“Hi.” was all he managed to reply with, as he was a little distracted.
She walked towards him, her boots like thunder across the wooden floor, “I wonder if you could help me?”
“I can try.”
As he watched her, he asked himself: ‘Is this flirting? Are we flirting right now?’
Now directly in front of him, Rachel rested her arms on the counter top and leaned against it. Gar swallowed, awaiting her next words. He wondered what flowers he could impress her with this time.
“What flowers say…Wanna get coffee with me?”
The boy’s heart sank. ‘That’s why she was so quiet last time. She wants to go out with someone else…’
Able to keep his composure, he looked away from her and started talking about which flowers had what meaning; he was determined to still do a good job.
But a voice from the side interrupted his rambling. “You can take your break now if you’d like to, Gar.” Rita informed him. She was fighting back…laughter?
“I will in a bit, just after I help-” He turned back to Rachel, who’s brows were knit together and eyes were wide. She was also trying to hide a smile.
Gar just tilted his head back at her, then looked at Rita again…
“Oh.”
He turned to Rachel.
“Oh!” He exclaimed.
Rita and Rachel shared a glance and a giggle.
“Yeah, okay-” He fiddled with the ties on his apron, struggling to untie it. It didn't take him long but once he finally got it off he just kind of stood there idly with it bunched in his hands. Clearly his brain was still processing what was happening.
After rolling her eyes, Rita waltzed over and took it from him - swapping it for his favourite red and white jacket. She brushed a loose strand of green hair from his face before she stepped back, indicating that he could go.
Rachel turned to lead them out of the shop and Gar followed. But not before he made a quick detour to a bunch of flowers on the wall and picked one out - handing it to her as they walked out the door, the bell jingling behind them.
Rita watched the two walk past the shop windows, the sunlight shining on their smiling faces.
Their hands intertwined.