Creve Coeur, Missouri
April 2024
"What do you call a hot male flower?"
"I have no idea. What?"
"A daffoDILF."
Mom erupted into a high-pitched giggle, slapping one hand over her mouth. With her free hand, she pressed the button of the blender, the loud WHURRRR drowning out her voice. She pressed it again to pour out her smoothie.
"That was a joke!" she snorted, "I swear you get it from Miss Starr!"
Stella blushed.
"Oh, Mom...!"
"Do you want a strawberry-banana smoothie, honey?"
"Sure."
As Mom poured the smoothie into a tall glass, Stella couldn't help but look out the window. It was a bright, clear day-- not a cloud in the turquoise sky. An orange moving truck dominated the street as men staggered in and out of the truck, carrying big boxes and heavy furniture.
"Hey, Mom, someone finally moved into the old Brennan house. Took 'em long enough!"
Mom shrugged, unimpressed.
"It's a nice house. Someone would move in eventually."
"Heeeey!" Stella leaned forward, heart pounding in her ears. "Maybe it's a family with a girl my age! Wouldn't that be fun?"
"Yeah."
Mom's voice was high and tight, as she was distracted by whatever was on her phone. She typed furiously, red-nailed fingers flying across the glowing screen. Stella stuck a red-striped straw into her glass and took a long drink, eyes rolling up to meet her mother's. Mom poured her own smoothie into a portable teal cup.
"Stella, I don't want you staring out the window all day. When I'm working, and you're at home, you need to keep busy."
"Mom, I know. It's just...it just hasn't been the same since the, uh...." She squeezed her eyes shut. "Divorce."
Mom froze. She tensed up, her shoulders stiffening as one eye twitched. Her hand flew to the back of her head.
"Let's talk about that later, okay? Right now, I need to go to work." She kissed Stella on the cheek-- a hard, quick peck. "See you tonight, sweetie. Love you."
"Love you, too, Mom."
As she watched her mother walk out to the driveway, Stella felt a hard lump rise in her throat. Mom stared at her phone, scrolling through message after message-- not looking up, not even when she opened the car door and slid inside.
All she ever thinks about is work, Stella thought, I swear, it's like ever since she divorced Dad, she married her job.
As Mom drove away, Stella waved-- though she knew her mother couldn't see. She wished Mom wasn't so absorbed in her work, even if she understood why. She wished she was the Mom she used to be, who made her own jokes, who asked about new neighbors, who took in a clear blue sky.
XXX
Lily wasn't a traditional beauty. She didn't think about her looks much, but this morning's barrage of flirty texts made her heart race with excitement. She didn't have a man go this crazy over her in twenty years. She didn't know how to go about flirting with a legal secretary from another firm, but getting his number at the wine mixer had been a good start. She held her head high as she walked inside, proud of her short, plump figure, small, slanted eyes and big Roman nose. Only the high-pitched ding of her phone made her look down:
I can't wait to see you tonight, the text read, I can't wait to feel your warm, gentle touch soothe my sore aching muscles. You're the only thing that'll soothe me, my Calla Lily.
Lily chuckled. Josh even added a water-lily emoji, for emphasis. She loved this, but now had no idea how to reply. Besides, work started in a few minutes, and yesterday there was talk of a new client. Lily shook her head, turning her phone off before shoving it into her purse.
After taking the sleek, black-carpeted stairs to her second-floor office, Lily's shoulder relaxed as she set her huge purse on the desk. As she drank her smoothie, she organized the papers, neatly sorting them into two piles. She gave a sigh of relief. Something about the delicate rhythm of papers being shuffled soothed her, and with the tranquility of a door closed to the constant chatter and shrill phone-rings of cubicles outside...it was the closed thing she had to paradise. Not long-term paradise, but paradise for now. Paradise away from the noise, the ache of divorcing Keith, the ache of not knowing how to soothe Stella's pain.... She felt tears sting her eyes. No! Lily, you can't cry— not at work, not in front of people!
Crack-crack-crack. Three soft knocks on her door.
"It's me, Jenny," chirped a familiar voice.
"Morning, Jen! Come on in."
Her young, red-haired receptionist entered, her face stiff with worry.
"Mrs. Sinclair," she said, "Your new client, Mr., uh, Tiny Kapurik, is here."
"Good. Send him in."
Lily wasn't prepared for the man who filled her doorway. Tiny-- like most men with the nickname --was a large, imposing man. He was tall and beefy, with muscular arms and a firm round belly. He was completely bald aside from arched black eyebrows and a black mustache.
Tiny wore a silky mint button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal thick, hairy forearms. Though it looked casual over his black dress pants, he dressed it up with a silver watch. And on such a nice, thick wrist!
"Good morning, Mr. Kapurik," she greeted, smiling faintly, "I understand you've come to discuss your estate."
"Yes, I need help with, uh, tax planning."
Tiny's voice was soft and deep, a slow-rolling baritone thunder. He knit his brow as he rubbed his meaty hands together. He doesn't know what to ask, Lily thought, Understandable, considering most people don't waste their lives studying tax law.
"I'm a construction worker. I know that doesn't sound like much, but last year I was promoted to a middle management position that makes a lot more than I'm used to. I was just wondering, with this increased salary, increased taxes...how that would affect my estate." He chuckled. "Honestly, I have no idea what I've gotten myself into. I've searched about it online, asked around...."
"So you want a second opinion."
"Bingo."
Lily folded her hands and eyed Mr. Kapurik closely. His tone was casual, a sly half-smile curled his lips, but his eyes flitted nervously. A mishmash of emotions...confronting one's emotions and all, she thought, Most clients are like this, but there's just something about him!
"Well, Mr. Kapurik...."
He held up a hand. No wedding ring.
"Please, call me Tiny."
"Uh, I'm sorry, that would be...unprofessional of me. What's your first name?"
"Paul. But everyone calls me Tiny, even my mother. I haven't been called Paul since I was six years old." He gave her a playful grin. "Who'd have thought I'd feel more like a little kid in a lawyer's office than at Six Flags?"
Lily laughed. Normally she didn't like chit-chat, preferring to discuss business head-on, but Tiny's laid-back demeanor made her want to ask more about him than lifeless numbers on a piece of paper.
"Isn't that true!" she remarked, shuffling through his papers, "Uh, Paul?"
"Yes?"
"I don't mean to disappoint you, but you're missing a couple documents I need. I can't help you without it."
"Damn, sorry! Knew I was forgetting something! Which ones did you need?"
"Your most recent business tax return, proof of your current income, and proof of your spouse's income."
Tiny froze. He swallowed an invisible stone and stared down at the desk, guarding a painful secret.
"My wife died two years ago."
"I-I'm sorry to hear that. I had no idea."
"I understand. It's hard to talk about Belinda, but I guess there's no getting around what happened...." He exhaled deeply. "I'm sorry I wasted your time, Mrs. Sinclair."
He rose to his feet, gathering his papers back into their folder.
"You didn't," she assured, "Don't worry; you can call my office anytime." She gave him a small smile. "Goodbye, Paul."
"Thanks. Bye, Mrs. Sinclair."
"Please," she replied, lifting her chin, "Call me Lily."
After Tiny left, Lily noticed some papers on her desk that weren't there before. She raised an eyebrow. Ohhh, no, he left some big things behind! As she looked through the papers, she noticed pencil sketches— rough, yet gentle sketches of a fluffy cat and camel. The camel bent low, drinking from an oasis. The cat sat on the camel's single hump. The word BASHA hung over the camel's head like a halo, while HAMRA crowned the cat. Huh? she thought, Must be his kid's drawings. He probably grabbed them instead of his papers. I better call him later.
But there was another paper. It slid out from under the illustration, completely covered in small, squiggly handwriting. At the top— in big letters— it read: THE DESERT FRIENDS. A story started beneath it.
Once upon a time, there was a lady-camel named Basha. She lived in a faraway desert, with a sizzling hot sun and sand that would burn your skin. But Basha was tough. She had to walk through long, hot paths of sand— just to get a drink of water! Today was no different....
"Mrs. Sinclair?"
Lily jumped, stunned back into reality.
"Y-Yes?"
Jenny opened the door a crack and announced,
"We're getting Bread Co. for lunch. You wanna come?"
"Yes. Hold on— I need to do something first."
As Jenny shut the door, Lily felt her heart skip a beat. Tiny— a budding children's author? Oh, he'd be too good to be true! She shook her head. No! Don't have such high expectations for a man! Much less a client!
Lily looked back at the paper. She didn't know how well she could help Tiny, but she wanted to finish his story. It was the most beautiful thing she'd seen all day.