Burgundy || HS

neuf

Lips tingling and a little bit more pep in the clicking of her heels, Jane walked into work moderately happy the next day. After their kiss, Jane’s cheeks were a spicy red and Harry blinked and smiled, insisting that he take her home. Harry talked about the time he took her out for drinks and how the flower seller looked like one of those people. “What do you mean?” asked Jane.

“Sometimes, when you ask certain flower sellers on the street, if you ask for a white rose they give you cocaine.”

Jane laughed. “Harry, I think you read too many articles.”

Harry looked over at Jane with a serious face, but amusement clear in his eyes. “Um, no, Jane. It is completely true. Would you like me to pull over and buy you some lovely cocaine? Maybe you won’t actually throw away this rose.”

“Shut up.” He walked her to her door where they kissed again. Harry initiated that kiss, as always, but it was nonetheless enticing. He tasted better than the first time their lips locked, bringing back an overwhelming sense of comfort and familiarity in Jane. She did remember to call her mother, but her father was still at work. She kept quiet about there possibly being a man in her life and continued asking if everything was okay at home.

Harry wasn’t at the library when Jane arrived, which she found fine, but what she was truly worried about was the absence of Mrs. Johnson. While being old, Mrs. Johnson hadn’t missed work a day since Jane began working at Oakheart. This worried clueless Jane. Where was her second mother? Her friend? Her co-worker? Jane set her things down and searched through her recent calls for Mrs. Johnson’s contact. While searching, she passed Harry’s and smiled a little. Then, she called. “Mrs. Johnson?”

A cough on the other line, then an answer, “Oh, hello Jane. How are you, dear?”

“I’m good, actually. Where are you? Is everything okay? I can probably get Harry to pick you up if you can’t drive I—”

Mrs. Johnson gave a throaty laugh. “Jane, darling, be quiet. I’m just under the weather. I’m not sure if I’ll be in for the rest of the week.”

Jane’s face fell while she sat in her seat. Harry was still not yet at his table, and she wondered if he truly would go get Mrs. Johnson if she needed a ride. “Are you going to be okay?” She had yet to take off her jacket and situate herself because she was sure she was going to leave to take care of the only woman she truly cared about in this state.

Mrs. Johnson sighed, trying to decide how to answer the question that could mean many things. On the other end, she was chewing on her thumb nail, wanting to spare Jane’s feelings and keep her at work, but also wanting her to know what was going on. “I don’t think so,” was her final answer. And it was all Jane needed to get up and call in sick for the day, gathering her things, and waiting for the bus to take her close to the building Mrs. Johnson lived in.

Emilee Johnson worked for an accountant agency before retiring. While being the best, she made sure to hide her emotions while her husband was away at war. Steven Johnson didn’t come back for the Christmas holidays, and it was nearing that time again. After the death of her beloved, Emilee continued her work and dug herself into a hole of self pity, burying herself in work and sadness. Old age brought her back from the dead, the result of her openness in emotion and sometimes vulgar speech. She hated seeing young adults mope and waste their life in too much seriousness as she had. She hated to see Jane the way she was everyday.

But with the great job she did at accounting plus the checks she gets for retirement and the time her husband did in the marines, Emilee had enough money to buy an apartment in one of the nicest buildings in New York City. Which was where Jane was dropped off at. She normally wouldn't take Mrs. Johnson as a glamorous person. But, as she walked in and asked about it, Mrs. Johnson replied with, “If you can afford, get it. If it makes you happy, get it. If you want it, at least try to get it. Unless it’s drugs, then just stop there.”