Curiosity
by Jonathan Wood
“Les fleurs?” she says. “Pour moi?”
To be honest, I can’t understand a word she’s saying.
I just hand her the flowers, give a quick nod and hold out the clipboard for her signature. She says something else I can’t understand. I watch her eyes, her brows furrowing, her purple painted nail tap her bottom lip. More words. I shrug at her. I glance down at her naked feet, tapping on her green carpet. I look up. She’s holding out one hand, showing me the palm. Wait. I understand that.
She goes back into her apartment, but doesn’t close the door. After a minute or so goes, I take a peek.
You would too.
Now, at this point I should point out that after two years of delivering flowers I know the smells pretty well. I’m no expert, but I can tell a lilly from a rose. I’m holding a bunch of daffodils at the moment. But as I crane my head I smell flowers that aren’t just daffodils. I smell a riot. I smell a whole damn shop in there. Hyacinths, hydrangeas, baby’s breath, roses, and, yeah, lillies too.
I push open the door a little. I can’t help it, I know it’s not polite, but I push it open anyway. You would too. I swear.
And the green carpet, the one she worked at with her toes. It’s not a carpet. Grass stretches over the apartment. Like a sheet draped over things. It crawls up her walls. And the flowers. Everywhere flowers, blossoming blooming. Huge things. Like nothing I’ve ever seen in a hothouse, anywhere. Massive, overwhelming things. They clog the room. Pollen hangs heavy in the air.
And at their bases… At the roots.
There’s a smell beneath the flowers. A stench of rot.
A rose curls out of a skull. A vines creepers unfurl from the meat-strung rib-cage of some animal… a cat… a dog. Broken wings. Stray paws. They are strewn through the foliage, their fluids, their nutrients, feeding this growth.
She reappears, opening a door, flattening daisy’s as she does so, pushing aside a moldy cat’s skull.
“Les fleurs,” she says. “Ce sont des varies, ne c’est pas?”
I drop my clipboard and run. Leg it, right then and there.
You would too.