Motorcycle Meetings

Ch. 1

He first met her on a Thursday afternoon.

It was around 4pm and the sun had slowly been working its way down to the horizon. A warm breeze flew through the open door and softly shook the petals of the many flowers that rested in the old and dusty vases set up throughout the flower shop. Some rustled and dried spider lily petals began to fall to the ground. Behind a counter in a corner of the shop, a young man watched the red petals flutter back and forth in the air as he tied a pink ribbon around a bouquet of white camellias meant to be placed behind the front display window. He looked down at his hands after what felt like a minute passed and the petals finally reached the floor. He smiled to see the ribbon perfectly set around the stems of the camellias; it was nice to know he could do his work without looking at it. But as he brought his eyes back to the sight of an empty store, he sighed. Today had been a slow day, and every passing second seemed to drag on and remind him of the work he would need to do when he had to clean up the shop at closing time.

At first the young man was pleased when his father told him earlier that day that he would be in charge of the shop while the old man and his mother went out to town to purchase some new supplies. His father often thought he was too shy to work with the customers on his own though in truth he simply preferred to remain quiet and listen to the customers’ questions and requests rather than interrupt with constant bargain and sales ideas. He was perfectly capable of working out a sale if he needed to. Although the sparseness of customers throughout the day was not his fault, he could not help but think that his father would express disappointment in him for the lack of sales when he and his mother returned.

Due to the recent months of slow and sometimes non-existent business, the floral family began to look for a new employee who could specialize in advertising and showing off the beautiful flowers the store offered. Unfortunately, for the time being no one seemed to be interested. The young man was reminded of this as he placed the finished bouquet in a round, slightly-clear vase behind the display window next to a bright orange “Help Wanted” sign leaning on a small, green vase that was empty. As he turned around and stared at the empty store devoid of people, his lips tightened into a straight line and he resigned himself to his fate of having let down his parents. He took a few steps to the right and went outside to lift the door stop attached to the door. The door began to close on its own as he went back inside, a hanging bell used to notify the store of possible customers ringing softly as the door slowly pushed passed its little bell hammer.

As the young man walked back to the counter to clean up the extra leaves and petals left behind from his bouquet work, he wondered if he should visit the local college and see if he could work with the student services in order to advertise the open position his family’s shop was offering. There were bound to be students looking for some income, and hopefully some of them would specialize in business or some similar subject that trained them in advertising. He smiled as he took a dust cloth and started to sweep the loose leaves into a nearby trash bin. If he could succeed in his plan, his father might think a bit more highly of his ability to help out the store.

While he was deep in thought, the young man somehow failed to hear the loud sound of a motorcycle roaring outside of the shop. The engine quickly quieted down as the motorcycle slowed to a stop next to the curb in front of the bakery next door. The young man ran one his hands through his sandy blonde hair as he continued to think.

Where exactly was the local college again?

The rider of the motorcycle turned off the ignition and pulled out the keys.

           

  Was it past the third block to the left of the park? The young man finished dusting off the counter and put the dust cloth away.

           

  The rider put the keys in a jeans pocket and dismounted.

           

  The campus was bound to have a lot of buildings. Which one held the student services office?

           

  The rider-turned-pedestrian stepped onto the sidewalk and began walking towards the flower shop.

            

  Was there a form he needed to fill out to post the job offering on the college’s campus? The young man bent down on one knee to pull out another pink ribbon from a drawer near the bottom of the counter. This one had a strange pattern of dopey little cats on it.

           

  The pedestrian figure put its hand on the door, and at the last second, remembered to take off its helmet. The figure then grabbed the slightly rusted door handle and began to pull open the door.

           

  The young man began to think his idea was too much of a hassle to bother trying it out.

           

  *Ding!*

           

  “A customer!” the young man mentally exclaimed. He could ignore the roar of a motorcycle if he was deep in thought, but his mind was trained to hear and respond to the ring of that bell. He quickly stood up with the ribbon in hand, turned to face the door, and cleared his throat.

“Welcome to ‘The Little Flower’!” he said with a gentle but practiced smile. “How may I help you toda…”

The young man never finished his sentence as he stared in surprise at the sight before him. At the door stood a woman with a cold but strikingly beautiful face with dark blue eyes partially covered by long black bangs. The woman’s hair had considerable length, and it appeared to be hanging down all the way to the small of her back from the young man’s point of view. Her face held a stern yet calm countenance, and it seemed she was not capable of smiling. She was wearing a smooth, black leather jacket that was unzipped, revealing a plain white shirt underneath.

The woman began to walk forward to the counter, easing her way around the many colorful bushes and bundles of flowers that seemed to exist as some sort of makeshift maze between the door and the register. The door closed slowly behind her, the hanging bell ringing softly again as the door pushed past it on its way to the frame. As she moved forward, she rotated her head to the right and momentarily paused to look at some autumn beauty sunflowers, one of them staring right back at her. She resumed her little journey and reached the counter, placing her motorcycle helmet on the corner of the countertop.

While the woman paused to look at some gardening tools that were placed on a large shelf to her left, the young man looked down from the counter to see the rest of her outfit. Her shirt was tucked into her blue jeans which were slightly ripped at random spots around the legs, and the jeans themselves were tucked into two worn-looking biker boots that fit her stunning yet masculine look. As the young man looked up at the woman’s face again, he realized that he was able to take into account the woman’s appearance so quickly because he was shocked by how much dirt and mud covered her entire outfit and head. The fact that she looked splendid with clumps of dirt streaked into her long hair and her clothes torn and splattered with mud streaks was quite a feat. As she looked back to him, he could see she even had a cut that seemed to have recently stopped bleeding across her left check and she still looked good. It appeared that this woman had taken part in some sort of street brawl and had come out the victor. The light of the setting sun shined behind her, giving her a yellow-red outline that emphasized an unreal strength she seemed to posses. It also happened to highlight the dirt on her beautiful face.

The young man was unsure if he should offer her a washcloth or what little money he had in the register.

Soon realizing that the woman was staring at him, the young man struggled to form a sentence. She spared him the dilemma of beginning the conversation.

“Hibiscus,” she said tersely. Her eyes caught the ribbon in the young man’s hand and she started at it for a second.

The young man took a second to compose himself and asked, “Pardon?”

“Do you have any hibiscus flowers?” the woman responded with some explanation, her voice sounding steady and cool. “The red or pink ones?”

Understanding now that this woman was indeed a customer and not some sort of delinquent who wanted to rob him, the young man switched into his “sales” mode and began to visually search the store, trying to pinpoint the location of the hibiscuses that this woman wanted. After a few seconds, he saw them diagonally across from him on the other side of the store. He looked back to the woman in front of him and noted with a confident smile and a gentle but joy-filled voice, “We do have them in stock! They’re right over near the front on that table behind the display window. I think I hid them by accident when I set up a bouquet behind the window, so you may not have seen them from the outside.”

The woman turned around and nodded as she confirmed where the hibiscuses were placed. She walked through another geometrical maze of tables between the counter and the desired flowers, and she took a moment to evaluate which ones she wanted to pick. While she was occupied, the young man wondered what she needed the flowers for. He wanted to think she was getting flowers for a fellow gang member who had died or something similar, but then ceased his train of thought when he realized he was judging her without knowing anything much about her. He looked to the corner of the counter where the woman’s helmet rested and noticed that it too was covered in scratches and patches of mud. That made two things in this shop that needed that washcloth.

The young man soon remembered that the woman would need something to hold her flowers, especially if she was going to carry them on a motorcycle. He put away the pink ribbon he was holding and opened another drawer to pull out some clear wrapping paper. When he looked back up, the woman was standing in front of him again with six hibiscuses, three red and three pink. The young man smiled and flattened out the wrapping paper on the countertop. He then took the flowers from her, holding them gently as he carefully placed them on the paper. At that point, he felt it was a good moment to voice his concerns regarding the flowers’ transportation.

Raising his head to look at her, he said, “I’m going to wrap up the flowers in this clear paper, but will you need anything else to help you hold on to them while you ride your bike? I usually ask our customers how they want to package their flowers, but I think in your case a bouquet might work best. Sorry if I’m assuming things!”

The woman simply nodded at his assessment and responded, “I have a backpack on my motorcycle. I should be able to fit the flowers into it without crushing them.”

Satisfied with her answer after a second of thought, the young man showed his understanding with another soft smile and began to wrap up the flowers. He finished his work in about a minute. As he was about to go back to the ribbon drawer and pick out a ribbon to tie up the bouquet with, the woman quietly said, “Um…”

The young man looked back up and acknowledged her, saying, “Yes?”

The woman closed her mouth for a moment before speaking again to explain herself.

“That pink ribbon. The one you were holding before. Is it…ok if you use that one?” she said in what almost sounded like a whisper. “It’s…cute,” she finished, and a tiny tint of red seemed to glow on her cut face.

The young man stared at her in slight surprise. This woman seemed to have another side to her underneath that tough, cool exterior. He quickly responded, “Of course! Anything you want!”

He then bent down again and took the pink cat ribbon out of the drawer and proceeded to tie it around the wrapped up hibiscuses. When he had finished his work, he presented the bouquet to the woman. She took it into her hands and brought the ribbon bow up to her face. If she was smiling, the young man could not see it behind the bouquet. He then opened another drawer to his right and pulled out a little booklet that listed the flower prices. After calculating how much the woman owed him, he looked back to her and said, “Your six hibiscuses come to a total of fourteen crowns.”

The woman nodded and carefully put the bouquet back on the counter while she fished through her left pocket for her wallet. After she pulled out the money needed to pay the young man and had given it to him, she put her wallet back into her pocket. She then picked up the bouquet again in her left hand while her right hand reached for her helmet. While she was doing so, the young man realized that there was one more thing he wanted to do for her.

“Um, if it’s not too forward for me to ask, would you like a wet washcloth?” the young man asked. “I can’t help but notice that you’re, um, covered in dirt and mud.” He wanted to say more to the woman such as ask where and how she picked up said grime, but ultimately decided to hold back.

The woman raised her left eyebrow as she stared at the young man in mild surprise. She opened her mouth, and it seemed she was going to refuse his offer. But she then stopped for a moment to look down at her mud-splattered clothes and dirt-covered helmet; she soon looked back up to the young man and nodded her head.

Happy to be of further help to the woman, the young man pulled out a handkerchief from the right pocket of his apron, and after washing and wringing it in the sink behind the counter to his right, he offered the wet cloth to the woman. She stretched out a few fingers of the hand that was holding the bouquet and grabbed the handkerchief. As she stared at the white, plain cloth, the young man realized that it would be a little embarrassing for the woman to wipe herself down in front of him.

Understanding this, he said, “Ah, you’re free to take the cloth with you.” And predicting that she might want to give the handkerchief back to him, he continued, “And don’t worry about returning it. We have plenty of those here!”

The woman nodded in understanding, and she responded, “Thank you.” As the words left her mouth, her lips formed a small smile. It was the first smile he had seen her make, and it left quite the impression on him. His face warmed up slightly.

“Not a problem! I’m happy I could help!” he exclaimed in joy.

The woman acknowledged his happiness with another downward tilt of her head and turned around to leave the store. As she was making her way through the little maze of bushes, an odd feeling overcame the young man. There was something about this woman that was striking to him. Perhaps it was because she was one of the few customers he had seen today, or maybe it was the tough way she carried herself. Thinking back on her initially cold face, her momentary blush when she made her request for the pink cat ribbon, and finally the small smile she just gave him, he realized that he did not want to let this woman simply walk out of the shop and his life. At least, not without knowing who she was.

“Um, excuse me! Miss!” the young man exclaimed. Nervousness began to creep into his voice and heart.

The woman stopped walking just as she had reached the door and turned around to look at the young man. She looked at him with a still face, an expectant look in her eyes.

The young man’s face slightly reddened again, and he said, “I know this is a bit odd for me to ask, but, um, it’s just that…uh…”

The woman continued to stare at him.

“You’re a very amazing, ah, no, I mean….interesting person. And, um, if it’s possible, I’d like to know...what your name is”, the young man finished in an almost rushed voice. He wondered if the woman thought of him as a strange, odd excuse of a man.

The woman raised her left eyebrow again, but did not seem overly disturbed by the young man’s request. She glanced at her left hand where she held the handkerchief along with the bouquet he had put together. Seeing her look away from him, the young man resigned himself to the thought that she would not respond and simply leave the shop. He looked down at the countertop and moved his hands to sweep away the bits of leaves that had fallen from the bouquet.

“Rachel,” a steady and cool voice said.

The young man looked back up in surprise and a shock of delight. Taking a second to understand what the woman, or Rachel, had just said, a joyful smile worked its way onto his face. Rachel moved her vision away from her left hand and looked back at the young man.

“And you?” she continued. Apparently she was not about to leave without the young man repaying the favor.

The young man, still quite pleased to have learned his cool customer’s name, took a second to respond.

“Remi,” he said with happiness firmly set in his tone.

Rachel nodded at the sound of the young man’s name and turned away to the door, preparing to leave. She pushed open the door with her right shoulder, the hanging bell ringing cheerfully once more as the wood pushed past its little hammer. She pushed the door completely open and placed her right foot outside. She then turned her head back to Remi and that small smile slowly appeared on her face again.

“Thank you...Remi,” she said. “For everything.”

She then stepped completely outside and the door soon closed once more, another cheerful “ding” sound ringing out as the door rested in its frame again. With that happy smile still on his face, Remi watched as Rachel left his line of vision on her way to her motorcycle. He soon moved to finish cleaning the countertop. After a few moments, he looked up again at nothing in particular.

“Rachel. What a lovely name,” he said to himself. He continued to smile.

 

Rachel walked to her motorcycle and placed her helmet on the edge of the bike seat as she pulled an empty backpack out of a case on the bike’s back. While she was taking out the backpack, she placed the still damp handkerchief next to the helmet. She put the bouquet in the backpack and zipped it so that the heads of the hibiscuses still stuck out in the air. She then slipped her arms through the backpack straps and placed the pack on her back. Just as she was about to put on her helmet, it slipped off the bike seat and bounced onto the sidewalk towards the bakery and flower shop. Narrowing her eyes at the result of her carelessness, she walked over to the concrete and picked up her helmet. She looked up and noticed a bright splash of orange stick out in the corner of her vision. Taking a few steps forward, she saw the “Help Wanted” sign hanging behind the display glass of the flower shop. She stood still and stared at the sign for a moment before placing the helmet on her head. As she turned around and walked back to her motorcycle, she thought about the ever-smiling and slightly awkward florist who occupied the shop. When she reached her bike, she noticed the handkerchief still sitting on the bike seat. She looked down at her dirt and mud covered clothes and remembered how her own face and hair still had dirt on them. She picked up the handkerchief and looked at it for a second. For the fourth time, she smiled.

Author's Note

Any constructive criticism helps. Hope you enjoy! And whatever you don't enjoy, please help me make it better!

Reviews

[BBP]

It kept me reading......... still wanting more, so I would say the main objective was met.