black roses | The Lost Boys (1987)

iii.

The next day, I found myself in my shop as usual, tending to a pot of globe amaranths that had fully bloomed over the past two days. I was pulling some out, watering the rest, and planting new seeds for new ones.

I stared at the flowers in my hand for a second before deciding to make a new bouquet to sit on the desk. I snipped the ends of the flowers and placed them inside a vase that would fit them best, a tall slim one that opened a bit more at the top. I opened my book of flower meanings and slowly read over the ones I planned to get to make sure I remembered them correctly.

During my senior year of high school, I had taken to memorizing the meanings of flowers so I would always know, but sometimes the meanings were a bit fuzzy to me. I easily made a small checklist in my head and spun around the shop, grabbing the needed flowers, dancing a bit to the song on the radio, one by Bon Jovi, though I didn't remember the name.

I swayed my hips to the beat and snipped some more flowers before placing them in the vase as well, the colors blending together seamlessly. I smiled a bit, placing a soft yellow marigold in the middle, the larger flower bringing it all together. I filled it with water, sprinkling a bit of food in to keep it alive.

I placed the vase beside the register and looked around the shop, making note of things I needed to buy, more seeds or bigger pots for certain flowers. I moved and watered a few plants that looked like they needed it, swapping plants that needed more sun than others. I made the shop look just a bit better.

I hummed a bit to myself, trying to figure out what to do next before coming to the realization that I still had the dreamcatcher in my purse. I hadn't found a place for it near my bed that would be good for it, so I kept it in my bag so I wouldn't lose it.

I gasped happily and skipped across the room, grabbing my purse quickly. I opened my purse and grabbed the dreamcatcher easily, making sure to be a little careful with it so nothing would break. I then grabbed some floral tape that matched the string close enough and taped the feathers down so I knew they wouldn't fall. I smiled at the large hoop and looked around, deciding to place it on the wall behind the register where there was a small space open from the flowers surrounding the other walls.

I grabbed a nail and a book since I didn't have a hammer and hit the nail into the wall, smiling as I hooked the string on top of the dream catcher to the nail. It hung perfectly like it was made to sit right there on the wall. I grinned at it a second longer before turning as I heard the bell to my shop door ring.

It was him, the curly-haired boy from before. He was standing in my shop, looking around at everything as if he was searching for something specific. Maybe he was, and I just didn't know.

I was scared to talk, afraid that he might be as rude as he looked, but I plastered a fake smile on my face and stepped to where I normally stood behind the counter. "Hello, how may I help you?"

The boy was obviously caught off guard as if he hadn't expected me to talk to him. "Nah, I'm just looking." I nodded and sent him a smaller smile as he looked over his shoulder toward me. He was staring at one of my pots of flowers. He turned a bit to look at me, pointing at them. "What are those?"

I stepped around the counter, walking over to where he was, my shoes barely making a sound against the flooring. I recognized the flowers almost immediately. "Anemone. They're used to symbolize being forsaken, undying love, or anticipation depending on what culture you're looking at. They're put in a lot of my funeral bouquets."

He nodded a bit. "She put them on my grave," he mumbled quietly to himself as if he hadn't meant for me to hear it. I raised my eyebrows a bit but ignored it, moving towards my radio as I talked.