I hustled myself out of the elevator and across the street to the little station. Adjusting to all the little changes, like not being able to drive for instance, had been hard at first. Little by little, I was beginning to accept who I was now. The new normal, as one of my therapists had put it. I patiently waited on the small platform, grateful that we had the modest train system in such a small town. Though the population wasn’t very big, Westfall had become a sort of business hub, and lots of people commuted to work here from the even smaller towns surrounding us.
I was pretty lucky to have a job, especially one that I enjoyed and was actually willing to pay me for my time. It didn’t pay much, but it was more than most people with a severe brain injury could have managed. I was lucky to have even emerged from “minimally conscious”- or so I’ve been told. Surviving was amazing. Living on my own was amazing. Working was amazing. Sometimes I didn’t want to be amazing. I would settle for plain old normal, but the drunk who had sent his big truck barreling into my tiny little car hadn’t asked my opinion on the matter.
I got to work late, but my hours at the library were flexible. I suffered from delayed processing speed. That, paired with my motor issues, made me slower than the average person at just about everything. The library paid me a weekly salary, which worked out well on both ends. I could take as long as I needed to do my job duties and I didn’t have to worry about days when I was moving slower than usual.
Janice was working again, and she greeted me right at the door. Taking my stuff, she herded me to the front desk. The wrinkles at the corners of her blue eyes were all crinkled up with merriment. “Look!” she said excitedly. “Aren’t they beautiful? They’re for you.”
I wheeled up to the desk and tentatively reached out to touch the big petals of the white orchid growing in the center of a massive floral arrangement. There was a card on one of those little plastic sticks, and I awkwardly pulled it out and handed it to her to open.
“Where did they come from?” I was puzzled. The only people I could think of that would send me flowers that ridiculous were my parents- and they wouldn’t bother without some reason.
Janice pulled out the card and handed it to me. “A man brought them in. He was asking for you, but he said he couldn’t stay long.” She patted her perfectly rolled hair, and grinned like an addlepated teenager.
I glanced down at the card. Thanks again, it said in pretty, loopy cursive. It was signed Peter. It had to be the man from the subway. He hadn’t told me his name, but I didn’t know any other mysterious, handsome males. I looked at Janice again. That would certainly explain her fluster.
The older woman smiled. “He was real good looking.” I blushed and looked at the flowers again. The orchid was surrounded by various greenery. It looked like it was growing up out of a jungle. I had never seen one so large. “He said he would come back around lunch time,” Janice continued slyly.
I looked at her in surprise. “He’s coming back?”
I glanced down at my clothes and patted my hair, beginning to panic. My wardrobe consisted of comfortable and easy to care for. I was wearing a pair of baggy jeans, a vibrant red sweatshirt, and a pair of old sneakers. I hadn’t bothered to pull my hair up, thinking it saved time to just brush it out and ignore it, and it bobbled around my shoulder in untidy waves.
Janice saw my horrified look and laughed. She patted my shoulder as she made her way back behind the desk. “You look fine, Melody. You’re a beautiful girl no matter what you wear.” Great, even the old lady thought my clothes were hideous.
I shook my head and gestured at the flower arrangement. “How in the world am I gonna get that thing home?” I asked practically, hiding my excitement. “I can barely manage to get all of my crap on and off the train every day.” No way could I manage a giant pot of rainforest on top of all that. Janice just laughed, knowing I was avoiding the real issue here. He brought me flowers.