A few blocks down on the far side of the street was a grocery store that had an amazing collection of flowers for sale right there on the street. For all of the ugliness of New York, the crime the cold cement and the piles of garbage and early morning stench there were unbelievable little things that made it special ,one of which was the corner store filled with beautiful fresh flowers, a simple indulgence affordably priced and often over looked. The selection was wide and rich with different types and colors an array of texture and fragrance.
Vincent lingered behind the clear plastic and green canvas covers that had been lowered not only for the night but due to the coolness of the evening. Vincent conversed with the older Chinese man manning the flowers, the heavily accented broken English transcended his love of the flowers he had so precisely arranged, presenting them not to promote their sale, but their beauty. If they were sold he would share their beauty with others and if not he would enjoy them for as long as they remained in his care. Vincent chose several assortments of lilies, a mix of pale yellows and soft peaches intermingled with the occasional splash of pink. He stood there with an armload, Vincent for all of his bravado considered flowers to be an exceptional thing in life. While his love of flowers was not openly discussed you could almost always find potted plants in bloom through out his home and office, their green foliage adding contrast to his otherwise minimalist style.
Perhaps it was the fond memories of his round old grandmother tending to her gardens in the summer pouring out her love into each and every seedling in each bed. Her house was littered with cactus and spider plants. She had a window box in the kitchen filled with basil, and chives, an assortment of oregano and thyme a never ending supply to be used in her days cooking. The most abundant was parsley that she not only garnished her dished with but fed to her Guinea pig as a daily treat. Her sun porch was filled with roses exclusively, tea cup roses to full sized bushes kept in a perpetual state of bloom though careful tending and nourishment. The pinks and reds dominated her color palate, shifting shades and varieties to create a well orchestrated symphony of color and fragrance. In the bathrooms small containers of Violets, that loved the moisture found in the air from the bath tub and the soft light that snuck through the frosted windows. She had lavender scattered throughout in large containers. Pansies in the front garden and in the summer the blue and pink hues of the morning glories could be seen adorning her front porch’s rails and columns.
Just before paying Vincent spotted two calla lilies, their delicate white splendor just beginning to fade.
“I’ll take those too.” he said to the attendant.
“You may have them they won’t last long” Vincent paid and thanked the man the placing a twenty on the counter as he walked away.
The attendant questioned him “Sir you left money on counter.” his accent ringing through the otherwise empty store, an honest man in a dishonest place.
“I know it’s for you.”
“Thank you, but I don’t take tip.”
“It’s not a tip, its for flowers, for whoever you like.”
A picture of a young girl was stashed on a board behind the counter, he would use the money to get her flowers, pretty ones. Just like her.
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