Wallflowers

30 mai

nina's family called her early this morning and she locked herself in her room the rest of the day. jean was mad because apparently she worked today but refused to go. jean left for his job and i talked to her through the door. she said her dad died and her mom wanted her to go back to mexico for his funeral. she cried and i brought her microwaved 4 hour old coffee, a stale biscuit, and tissues. she opened the door then laid in her bed.

"are you going? to mexico?"

"i don't know.  i want to but i don't really have money for the flight." she sniffed.

"take mine."

she laughed and said, "no. no, that's your money, adrien. you only have so much until you run out."

"i have to get a job sooner or later. please take it, nina."

she smiled and nodded then hugged me and i hugged her back. "thank you."

"you're welcome."

she took a nap and i went for a walk in the park and through the shopping district. the lanterns strung across store fronts and distressed signs mixed with the muddy pink sky and blinded me. i felt like laying on the cirrus clouds and letting the wind blow me away into the sky. i somehow ended up back at the café and madame leroux handed me a cup of tea.

"not today, madame."

"you're buying something or you're leaving," she scolded.

i ordered a cup of tea.

"does it get tiring, running the café alone?"

"sometimes. i'm getting older, so the heavily trafficked days are getting harder," she sat across from me and set her pad and pencil down on the table. "i'm not entirely alone, though. i have a baker in the kitchen. he does most of the cleaning, too. very sweet kid."

"would you ever consider hiring someone else?"

she eyed me suspiciously. "maybe."

"i don't cost much, madame."

she smiled and stood again. "we'll see, monsieur. finish your tea." she walked back into the café and flipped the sign on the door from open to closed.