Twice Shy

06 TWICE SHY

It takes five precisely placed pins and a bandana to make it seem as if I haven't butchered my hair entirely. After almost an hour of sitting in front of the mirror, I was ready to go to work.

Then Nazli, my only good friend, notices immediately, "You gave yourself new hair,"

"Things going that bad at home?" Fazle adds.

"This is the new me," I announce, loosening my bun and tying a simple pony tail instead.

"Watch out, earthlings," Nazli, my co pilot in this new space adventure, says.

Zahra snorts quietly before eyeing my hair mockingly. I sometimes miss when we were friends, before Salman came into the picture. She'll never stop punishing me for her heartbreak.

Regardless, I love working here.

The first time I came to work here, the owners, Mr. and Mrs.Demirci, were here to oversee my performance. And so, I expected them to be here everyday. When they weren't here though, I asked Fazle, unbeknownst to his malicious nature, about who I was supposed to be reporting to. The dipshit had me convinced he was my supervisor and had me scrubbing the floors everyday for a week. We get a laugh out of it now.

In the absence of any supervisor, the atmosphere is very cozy and lax. In quite the suburban neighbourhood in North Yorkshire, we rarely had many visitors. The tall shelves had all kinds of books, and the front row held vinyls. At the end of every month, we'd join in to make scrapbooks out of random items lying around to make flyers and advertise our shop.

Because the business is so flat lined, we goofed around and literally did nothing. We'd play one of the vinyls in the background, and get on with our own lives. Our group, which mainly consisted of Fazle, Zahra, Nazli, Umer, and I are all first generation immigrants. We all connected because of that.

Although Umer's usually working on his shift on weekends, without us. He's quite the introvert. I think he avoids us because he got embarrassed for being caught reading a Spider-Man comic, or perhaps we're just overwhelming and chaotic, especially with the What Is Your Sex Position quiz we took on Buzzfeed to pass time.

About ten minutes after I walk in, I'm proving my worth at the shop by folding papers into a pegasus shaped bookmarks as freebies with the books. Suddenly, the bell dings and we all orbit to gape at whoever's here.

Bets are placed on an eccentric billionaire who's going to save us all and buy every item on the shelves. We all practice our saddest faces so he also pities us and offers us jobs for doubled salaries.

Instead, it's a gangly, ginger boy, who carries a giant bouquet covered in flimsy plastic to protect the flowers from the rain.

"Ilyana Alara Aziz?" He asks, peering from behind the bouquet.

I'm in shock, and Nazli picks up my hand and raises it.

"These are for you,"

When I don't move, he hesitantly places the bouquet on the counter. Zahra's face disappears behind the plumage of sage green and white pearls, and her hand shoots up holding a card.

"It's blank,"

But I know who gave these. Ilyaz could've written something here, but there's nothing. Instead I know exactly what message he's sending; HERE YOU GO, THE IMPRACTICAL FLOWERS YOU WANTED.

I sign the boy's register quietly, before Fazle speaks up.

"What's the occasion?"

"Just because." My throat is dry.

"This is.. ah, excessive." It is. The bouquet is the size of the entire counter.

"So, what are they?" Nazli clasps her hand together, turning to me. She probably thinks they're my favourite flower. I don't know if I have one, maybe lilies. I definitely have a least favourite; dahlias.