Rummage Sale Stories

Passing Flowers - Part 2

He glanced over his shoulder, giving her a look that said ‘good try.’ “You know I can’t, babe. I have that marathon coming up, and with work...”

She sighed. Morning and night, he worked out and trained. Bike races, Marathons, Triathalons, and the Ultra-Marathons he’d been talking about more and more, consumed him.  “I know, Stewart, but we miss you.”

“After the next Marathon, I promise, we’ll go out to celebrate,” he tried in a half hearted attempt to placate her. “Hey, look at this,” he waved her over to the screen. “Amelia just finished one of those Ultra-Marathons I’ve been telling you about, she sent me over the pictures.”

With a few clicks, his screen was filled with images of a beaming, wiry blonde, coated with sweat and dirt from the trail. Janelle knew that face all too well, and that gut-wrenching anger welled up inside her.

“She actually placed fifth for the women’s times. It’s only her second try. Doesn’t she look great after running fifty miles? I have got to do one of these runs with her.”

“Aren’t you doing the Marathon next week with her?” Janelle snapped.

It was lost on him. “Yeah, but this is different. This run is twice as long. There’s one in a few months, I think I can do it,” he said, still clicking through images.

Janelle had already turned away, pulling the door closed. “I’m heading to bed,” she said, unable to bear to look at that young, incredibly fit woman he was so infatuated with. It wasn’t the first time he’d become obsessed with a woman he worked worked with. She knew the signs well enough.

* * *

“Eric has a gig tonight!” Jared started without so much as a hello after class. “Remember? You said we could go. You said I could take pictures.”

Janelle laughed and ruffled his hair. “I know baby, I know. Do you have homework, though? You have to do your homework first.”

“AWWAW!” Jared protested, flinging his arms about dramatically. “I don’t want to do homework! Homework is stupid!”

Janelle took his arm, guiding him towards the car. “If you don’t do your homework, we won’t go to Eric’s show. Remember, he said the same thing. Your homework is your ticket.”

“Fine,” he pouted, stomping along towards the car.

“Good. And don’t say stupid, I don’t like that word.”

* * *

She’d agonized over her outfit, going for sexy but casual. It was just a small cafe gig after all. Still, she’d found herself worrying over the extra weight she’d put on, though it had done little more than add a softer curve to her previously well toned physique. Stewart had often been critical of the fact that she’d been unable to fully return to her pre-baby body like so many of the women they knew.

When Jared had been diagnosed, it had been something of a relief, a justification of her inability to ‘keep up with the Jones’. Jared took a special amount of care, and selfish worries such as whether or not she had a properly toned tummy were no longer a priority.

Stewart, of course didn’t see things that way. The loss of the future he’d planned for his first son, the attempts at T-Ball, then soccer, and even bike riding all ending in failure were too much for him to bear. He’d soon escaped into his own world, his work, hobbies and affairs.

 

* * *

The music was loud, but with noise canceling headphones, Jared was content to snap away with his camera. Eric was the opening act, as promised, ensuring Jared and early bedtime. Janelle sat sipping a happy hour cocktail while Jared moved around the bar with almost uncharacteristic calm and reserve. They were taking the bus home she could excuse this one small lapse. Jared loved the buses, after all.

Halfway through the gig, cheeks flushed, one small cocktail turned to three. Jared was on his best behavior all night and Eric’s performance was a swoon-worthy affair. Janelle watched with a tinge of jealousy the young girls who gathered at the stage to gush over Eric's performance and ask for autographs on the CDs he’d brought along.

Jared pushed his way through the gawking girls, solving the problem for Janelle. “Look!” he announced, shoving the view screen of his phone towards Eric.

“Wow, nice!” Eric exclaimed, “Not going to edit them first?”

“Nah, you can see them raw,” Jared explained. “Here, take it.” He shoved the phone at Eric. They’re mostly of your guitar. I like it.”

Janelle joined them as the girls wandered off, Jared having taken Eric’s full attention. He flipped through the photos, chatting with the boy in that all encompassing way he had. It was just Eric, tall, lean and dark, kneeling beside Jared a fair, brown haired, small for his age boy. The rest of their surroundings might have well have not existed.

“I really like this one,” Eric was saying.

Janelle watched from over Eric’s shoulder, catching sight of the creatively framed image of Eric’s back up guitar. It was a departure from Jared’s usual light and color focused photography, but certainly not a bad change. His creative talents, his eye was growing and changing. It was a promising start. She looked away when Jared’s head turned her direction, sipping at her drink and pretending not to be spying on their exchange. She knew she wasn’t allowed to see the images before they were processed. This was a special departure from his routine, for Eric, for his performance.

“That’s about it,” Jared finished with a shrug. “I’ve got a few more I haven’t processed yet from the other day at the park, but you can see’em if you really want.”

Janelle raised a brow at that, but kept her eyes carefully averted. Eric was silent as he flipped through the images. After a long moment, he asked, “Can I show your mother this one?” He sounded strange, his voice almost shaken. Janelle stiffened.

“Yeah, I was saving that one... I wanted you to see it first. Is it okay?”

“I like it, Jared, but I didn’t know you’d see that.”

Janelle couldn’t stand it. She turned then to find Eric standing beside her, the phone angled towards her. When had he stood from his crouch? Warmth radiated from him as they stood shoulder to shoulder. He smelled vaguely of sweat, surely from the lights of the performance, but in that mild, spicy sort of way. Not in the fresh sportstick and dirt way her husband always had. She unconsciously leaned closer to that warmth as she looked at the screen.

It was an image of two hands, passing a flower, the couple back to back, a foot apart. She remembered the exchange. She’d been so upset after the Amelia incident, she just couldn’t shake it. Eric had been concerned, though she hadn’t told him the full story. He’d given her the flower, passing it almost in secret. It was like all of their recent intimacies had been exchanged. A whisper over a shoulder, a quick and quiet gesture, all becoming more common, but still hidden.

She flushed, and glanced at Eric, then away.

“So, Jared, tell me. What were you trying to capture here?” Eric asked, rescuing her.

“Symbolism,” Jared replied smugly. “You giving my mom happiness. The symbol is the flower.”