daisy, daisy, cae&wis

Funerals mean flowers.

But so do weddings and birthday parties, babies being born and piano recitals, sometimes even just because's and I love yous, they often need flowers too. That's good, that's kind, because if I only ever got to make arrangements for funerals I think I'd be a little bit more sad.

I start my Thursday early, there are fifty orders to go out– three weddings and two funerals. Tributes always garner more attention and that means more flowers. There have to be arrangements ready for purchase too. I was in the shop late last night with my father, putting together bundles of roses, hyacinth, dawn flower. Lilies drape over buckets, forget-me-nots crowd below and a few branches of wisteria even everything out.

The shop's already been open for a few hours by the time I see my first Mae. Makes sense that I'd see them today when one of the tributes being buried is Sutton. I can't lie and pretend that I'll miss her. My family works for the Mae family but if there's one thing about them that I've noticed, they're a cruel, self-involved lot for the most part. Sutton was no exception.

Neither is Caelum.

The lady I'm helping at the counter doesn't seem to recognize him, pity for her. I keep my attention focused on her even as Cae walks up. He's overly confident this morning but after all these years, I've realized it's just a mask.

Something about him makes me tender. I yield to him in ways I wouldn't for anyone else but it isn't fear that makes me do that. From the moment I met him, I realized Caelum couldn't hurt me even if he wanted to.

I finish with the woman before I bother even looking at Cae. Maybe it's the long work night with little sleep, but for the first time in a long while, I can't quite read him. He's always been a different sort of animal, gentle movements, an arm held in too close, like each breath hurts him. But I've seen him be cruel, heard the things that come out of his mouth and I don't know what to make of him.

"Yellow roses mean friendship," I tell him as I place a piece of wrapping paper on the counter and pull my floral scissors from my pocket, "Unless you suddenly like Sutton, I don't think that's the effect you were wanting to go for."

I prod, careful though as I test. Just because Caelum's never hurt me before doesn't mean he won't. Out of all the Mae's, Caelum's always had the reputation of being the most sporadic. "You look terrible, by the way," I add, and then pull up the counter to allow Caelum into the back, "Come back here and eat something, Magpie's dropped off breakfast sandwiches."

Sutton, no matter what he says, was his twin sister. We all watched her die brutally on live television, that's got to sting. There are dark circles under his eyes and he looks thin. Caelum's never talked about it, but I know he isn't as healthy as he wants everyone to think he is. Maybe that's why I've never been scared of him, the inhaler in my pocket is a heavy weight too.

I wait for him to enter, and then reach past him to pluck baby's breath out of a bucket. "I'll put something together for her, okay? You can't complain if you don't like it."