His Little Flower (Felix and Flora)

(Now)

It took a lot for me to get out of bed this morning. The night had been long, I hadn’t slept much – barely thirty minutes and then my alarm had started ringing. That same Taylor Swift song I had for an alarm tone since I had been 16 years old. Five years of listening to that same beginning tones of ‘Ready for It’ made sure that it was the only Taylor Swift song that made my skin crawl. That’s why I never changed it. I liked all of her other music too much.

It was my first day at my new job as a housekeeper. After three years of working random odd jobs – waitressing, cleaning, and babysitting, I was happy to have found something like this. It was pretty much the same kind of work – cooking and cleaning, but the pay was so good. My friend Lexi had told me about it. Lexi and I had met at my first waitressing job and even though we did not work together for long – she got married to a doctor and stopped working – we were still friends and she had been kind enough to let me know that someone in her neighborhood was looking for a housekeeper, knowing that they would pay well. This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

I had been skeptical of taking up the job. It was in a neighborhood I knew all too well. I had grown up there. I knew the crooks and corners, had had my first kiss here, learned to ride a bike on the same roads. But that was before. Before everything changed. I didn’t think anyone here would recognize me. Things had changed too much. Not many of the older families lived in Avalon Heights anymore. If any were left, they wouldn’t know me. I don’t think I would know anyone, either. When I was at Avalon, I only knew the Corsinos. I only knew Felix.

I got into my car, struggling a little because I had my breakfast banana in one hand and coffee in the other. I ate quickly as I drove the few miles to Avalon. My dad and I had moved to this new neighborhood six months ago. Before this, we had lived much, much farther away. Dad wanted to remain as far from Avalon as he could. Recently, he had decided to move us back, closer, but still far removed from the life we had once had.

I had reached the house before I finished my banana. Knowing I still had a few minutes, I sat in my car a bit longer, stuffing my face with the banana and then finishing my iced coffee in a few sips.

I had been to the house before, for my interview. It was grand and majestic, called ‘Scotney Mansion’ after the man who had built it a century ago. I had seen it from the outside, earlier, as well. No one had lived here then. The woman who had interviewed me – Lydia Wilcox, had mentioned that it had been bought recently and had been renovated from the inside by the new owners. Lydia was the original housekeeper here, apparently, she had been with the owners for a few years now. I would be assisting her until she retired in seven months, and then I would take over. I would meet the owners today. I wondered what they would be like. Nice, I hoped. I’d been told it was just two people – that would be easy. Families with children were usually harder. There was always more to cook, more to clean.

There was a separate parking for staff to park their cars in. I parked there, besides another small black car. Lydia’s, I supposed. I got out of my car and started walking to the mansion. The walk from the parking to the house meant I would have to cross the large gardens. The plants were pretty unkempt, I wondered if they had hired a gardener yet. If not, I could recommend my neighbor Tommy, who I knew for a fact was looking for work.

I didn’t know if I should just enter the house, so I called Lydia, who asked me to come right in and meet her in the kitchen. I did so, stepping in gingerly. My wonder was the same as the first time I had seen the house from the inside. It screamed money, and even though the inside was much more modern than the rustic look of the outside, it somehow worked. I hadn’t been in a house like this in years. Before, my home had been pretty big, too. We’d had servants, a garden. The Corsinos’ home was much bigger. Felix’s mother, Julie, had designed it herself. I remembered it vividly. Now, my father and I lived in a small one-bedroom apartment. He had the room, and I slept on the couch.

“Flora!” Lydia greeted me with a smile when I stepped into the kitchen. She was dressed in the same dark blue dress as me. Apparently, the owner liked uniforms.

“Hi!” I extended, “I hope I’m not late. What can I start with?”

Lydia explained a bit of the working structure to me. It wasn’t unlike what I had expected. Cooking and cleaning, and a little home upkeep. I was ready for it.

“The master will be here by noon. We have to prepare lunch. I’m going to hire more staff in a week or so,” Lydia explained, “It will be hard for the two of us to do everything in a house this big. For now, why don’t you go make sure the master bedroom is clean and tidy, then come back here and help me cook?” I nodded. “Sure.”

“Its on the first floor.” Lydia called after me as I made my way to the master bedroom. I knew, she had given me a tour before. And I remembered. Lydia seemed nice. She was old, probably in her fifties, and even though we had had very limited interaction, she exuded warmth, and I knew she would be a pleasure to work with.

The master bedroom was huge, and it was beautiful. The colors were mostly white and pastels, and the furniture was dark, dark wood. There wasn’t much there – only a bed, a bookshelf, a bedside table, a couch and a flatscreen TV. No pictures, no décor, but I supposed the owners would do it when they arrived. The huge floor to ceiling windows had a wonderful view of the garden, half of which was shadowed by a huge apple tree. You could reach out and pluck an apple, it was so close. This house made me miss my old life, so much. I had a life like this, a house like this. Smaller, yes, but still much better than the one I had now. I wasn’t forced to eat ramen for dinner thrice a week. More importantly, I had a family, friends. Felix.