Dr Meera Saravana has been on the run for the last ten years due to a fatal misunderstanding. She ends up in New York, hoping that maybe this time everything will work out. But that's turning out to be impossible the more she gets involved with the...
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"Stop the car," I said.
"What?" Felix glanced through the rearview mirror. "Boss, we're on the clock here."
"I know," I said, pointing to the floral shop on the street corner. There was a neon sign in the front that said open in bright blue and red, blinking rhythmically. "I need flowers."
I had my speech, my favourite suit, and all of the humility I could muster up. I still forgot the fucking flowers.
Eddie sighed from the driver's seat, pulling over despite Felix's protests. He put the Land Rover in park and turned in his seat to face me, an unimpressed look on his face. "Look, Boss." He said, exasperated. "I don't question your decisions. Ever. But you woke me up at fuck o'clock in the morning just so that we can beat Dr Saravana to work. Are the flowers really necessary?"
Yes. Yes, They fucking are. If Eddie had grown up with my mother and sisters then he would have known that flowers are quintessential for any good apology. I grabbed the door handle and gave Eddie a flat look. "Eddie, when it comes to women there are two things you should always know. One, Be a man and apologize. And Two, buy the fucking flowers."
I step out of the car, closing the door behind me. The floral shop was on the corner with bins of cheap flowers laid out for bargain prices.
Meera had once said that she liked flowers. It was a slim chance but I hoped that would take a swing at me if I at least gave her flowers and at most grovelled in front of her.
The little bell jingled as I entered the cramped shop. The employee that had been sweeping earlier was now behind the cash register. She was an elderly woman dressed in a green apron that had seen better days. I stood there for a few seconds, watching her nimble hands cutting the stems of roses. Colourful Ribbons were scattered all around the counter.
"Excuse me," I said, pulling the gloves off my hands. "You wouldn't happen to have any tulips, would you?"
"Sure. Red ones. White ones. Yellow ones." She looked up, doing a double-take as her eyes glanced at my overcoat and suit. "But there's a better florist down the street. They make fancy bouquets down there, son."
"Well, I'm in a bit of a rush and you're the nearest florist so......" I said, pulling my wallet out. "Any bouquet will do as long as she understands what I'm trying to say."
"Well, would you look at that?" She clicked her tongue. "What did you do, son?"
"Pardon?" I asked, taken aback by her honesty.
She picked up the roses and started to tie a white ribbon around the stems, not looking up from her task. "You look like a man who's trying to apologize. Am I right?"
I sighed, burying my hands in my pocket. "That obvious, huh."
"Afraid so." She grinned, placing the bouquet of roses down. "So tell me, what are you trying to say to your lover?"
