Stay Awake

Happiness By Flower

"You can't expect life to hand you answers on a silver platter, Francis." 
Yet again I'm in the midst of another lecture. My mum had never let me live down dropping out of University, and I'm not sure she ever would either. Taking English Language & Literature as a major was what I had wanted, but I wasn't prepared for the restriction of creativity. I expected so much more from the subject and I was bitterly disappointed to find that we wouldn't be considered by our own works, merely the study of the works of others. Of course, I knew that there were amazing writers out there and that their work should be studied closely and analysed for deeper meaning, but honestly that wasn't where my heart was set. I considered myself a writer, despite being reluctant to show anything I'd created. 
I now worked in a small corner shop selling flowers. The pay wasn't great but amongst all of those bouqets and the peacefullness of the job itself, I had time to consider my life and contemplate what I would write next. If only inspiration was that easy to find. I got up from the sofa I sat in and wondered out of the front door, my mum still shouting to me about how disappointed she was. I got the idea, and her voicing it made me feel no better, nor did it give me the motivation to do anything about it either. I wondered into the garage and wheeled out my bicycle - an old faithful thing I had picked up at some vintage market, it took me everywhere I needed to go. I biked around the streets of London, dodging cars and narrowly missing pedestrians to get to the flower shop to begin my shift. I made it to the corner shop, sweetly named "Bonny Bouquets". After locking my bike on a pole next to the shop I hurried in, tied the apron around me, clipped on my name badge and began arranging flowers into colour coordinated bunches. My boss came from a door at the back of the shop that lead to the staff room,
"Good morning, Francis. I've got a favour to ask," She spoke shyly. My boss was a stout woman in her 50's named Elsa, we'd worked together now for a good year or so and she had been both an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on and we had become very close. 
"Sure, what do you need?" I paused my flower arranging and met her nervous expression,
"Well I need to be at the hospital in the next half hour and I need you to work on a couple of deliveries for me while I'm gone, if that's okay?" 
"Of course, is everything alright?" 
"Yeah it's all fine, just a routine check-up, darling. The list is on the front desk." She pointed to the desk and darted back into the staff room. I wondered over to the list, there weren't very many - a delivery to a company not far down the road, a cafe further down from there, and then a private delivery to an apartment somewhere past the central park. I got together the flowers that needed delivering and put the bouquets in the front and back wicker baskets that I had attached to my bike since getting the job. I locked up the shop and put a notice on the window - 'Out on deliveries'. 
The first two deliveries were totally normal, money exchanged for flowers and they seemed to brighten the days of those who recieved them, which was certainly the best part of the job. However, the third job seemed slightly strange. I rode around various apartments attempting to find the address, it took a little longer than I expected. I parked the bike up and entered an apartment complex and took even longer finding the right door, number 72. It was on the top floor and I stupidly didn't think about taking the elevator and so I jogged up more flights of stairs than I was proud of. I reached the door and knocked. It opened and I looked down to my notes to read the name of the deliverer and any message they may have attached to the flowers, but there was none.
"Um, deliverery for Miss Elena Goulding." That couldn't be right, could it? 
"Aw that'll be me!" I heard a voice chime. I looked up, a nervousness shook my stomach making it churn and wobble. Shit. I hadn't looked at the name before now. This was ridiculous.
I handed her the bouquet of flowers and she smiled, her eyes glimmering with happiness,
"They're beautiful!" She exclaimed. This was beyond surreal, I mean I heard her on the radio, I saw her on TV, I had her albums for goodness sake. 
"Thank you, I arranged them myself." I couldn't quite meet her eyes, "I'm afraid there was no note attached so I can't say who sent them." 
"Oh no, I sent them to myself, I needed a lovely new arrangement to sit on the dining table. The old ones were looking a little worn. Please, come in." She stepped into the apartment and ushered me in. I stood awkwardly in a room that was so beautiful that it seemed unreal. The interior was rather grand and appeared antique, and the entire place seemed as though it would follow the same theme. I watched as Ellie replaced the old flowers she had spoken about with the ones I had just given her, in a lovely vintage blue China vase in the middle of a grand oak table, intricately carved with roses down it's table legs. 
"There, absolutely perfect!" She admired her work with a tilt of the head and then giddily turned towards me, "How rude, I never even asked your name!" 
"Oh uh, Francis, my name is Francis." I pointed awkwardly to the badge attached to my shirt. I did my best to avoid showing her how nervous I felt. 
"What a lovely name, well it's lovely to meet you Francis, care for a drink?" She headed towards the fridge to take out what looked like a vitamin water for herself and then looked back at me expectantly.
"I'd love to but I really can't, I ought to get back to work really." I really wanted to take her up on the offer, I'd been such a fan for a long time and this was a bizarre and fortunate turn of events but I knew I shouldn't. Ellie's face fell slightly and she seemed disheartened.
"Of course, no, I shouldn't hold you up." She drank from her mineral water and took out a pen and paper pad from a kitchen drawer beside her. She quickly scrawled something down, tore the page out and handed it to me, "I know this is weird, but here, I want you to have this, drop me a call sometime?" 
I was awestruck, she had just handed me her number,
"Without a doubt." It was all I could say, I could have kicked myself.
"Excellent, I'll look forward to hearing from you. It was lovely meeting you." She smiled a smile that illuminated her face and radiated pure beauty and I felt my hands tremble more. We walked to the door and she opened it for me. "Thanks again, Francis." She shook my hand. Her hands were cold and delicate and I felt nervous as she held my clamy hand in hers for that instant. She didn't seem phased by it whatsoever though. 
Once she had shut the door, I was left to stand in the hallway and contemplate everything that had just happened. Ellie Goulding just gave me her number. I opened the note for the first time to see she had written a small note underneath the number itself,
"Thank you for brightening my day with your lovely flowers, you seem equally as lovely and I'd love to hear from you - Ellie x" 
Her handwriting was beautiful and elegant despite how quickly I saw her jot it down on the paper. I didn't understand what had just happened, but all I knew was that my heart fluttered uncontrollably in my chest. Was I crushing on Ellie Goulding?