Elly in Bloom. Colleen Oakes
fast. It was just like one day, everyone was fussing about Posies. And then all of a sudden, here you are at a ton of weddings with your,” she made quotes with her fingers, “‘garden style’ and your Tuscan urns, and I get to see you all the time. Yaaaay.”
Elly rolled her eyes when Lizette turned around. She steeled herself.
“Yes. We’ve been very blessed and we love our brides. I should really get back to decorating. I’m sure you have people to … get in order.”
Lizette peered at the centerpiece. “Yes. I think I will ask Leslie if she does indeed want the orchids up on every side, or just in the middle. It looks a little … off.”
Lizette smirked and snapped at her assistant, a nervous looking doe-eyed brunette who quickly ran up behind her. “ASHLEE! Why are you just standing there like some ignorant stick? Go ask Leslie about these orchids. I want you back in five minutes. Also, please bring those strawberries back to the kitchen and tell them that if they can’t get sprinkle colors right, they deserve to be flipping burgers, not catering my events. Mmm … kay?”
Elly briefly imagined the glory of punching the wedding coordinator in the face. Instead, she turned around and continued moving the flowers around the votives.
Lizette chirped in her ear, “Okay. So … great talking to you, Elly. Keep up the good work. Oh, those candles are a little too close, don’t you think?” She spun on her tall heels and stalked out of the tent, but not before snapping at a waiter for chewing gum on the way out. Elly took a deep breath, congratulated herself for not slapping Lizette, and proceeded to drape the tent with flowers.
Thirty minutes later, she stood back and admired her handiwork. The white tent, previously a blank canvas, was now a lush garden. Pinks, greens, and yellows were everywhere, a bright feast of color. The flowers had transformed the site from a stuffy wedding to a garden paradise. Elly loved this moment, the moment when she had taken something from bland to beautiful, when boring life bloomed before her eyes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a floral swag blowing a little too loosely in the wind. One more and I’m done. The floral swag was on the top corner of the tent, behind a magnificent food spread. Food. Mmmm … food. Elly glanced around. There were waiters and caterers putting out stemware, and Lizette the wedding Nazi was nowhere to be seen. She reached over to the candles and orchids, and pretended to move things around. With her other hand, she swiped some cheese from the tray and quickly shoved it into her mouth. Manchego. It was delicious, salty and tangy. Elly took a minute to savor it melting onto her tongue before climbing up the ladder to fix the swag.
She made quick work of it and leaned back on the ladder. It slipped to the right. Elly over-compensated with her behind and jumped off the side of the ladder, hitting the food table on the way down with her rear. She ended up on her knees, eye level with the table, the platter of cheese inches from her head. Panic swarmed through her until she realized that the table and all the food were still intact. Her face burned with embarrassment. How did this happen? Oh no, oh no, oh no…. Through her tears she saw a couple of caterers speed-walking toward her. She jumped up.
“I’m okay, everyone. Totally okay. That ladder is … weird. Yeah. But I’m good, thanks for worrying.” They stared at her. That was when she felt an odd warmth on the back of her pants.
No, no, no … did I poop?? DID I POOP??? Elly spun around. She couldn’t see the back of her pants. She swiped the area with her hands. It came away brown.
Kill me now. Please. Kill me now. Oh God, just reach down with your mighty hand….
She brought it to her nose. Chocolate. That was chocolate she smelled. She brought it to her mouth. Yes. It was chocolate. It was then that she looked up to see a small group of horrified waiters looking at her, mouths agape. She realized instantly what that looked like. She held up her hand in an awkward wave.
“It’s just chocolate. Not poop. Didn’t poop my pants! Just chocolate. I must have knocked into the chocolate fountain … no biggie.”
She saw two cute caterer girls widen their eyes at each other and start to whisper. The deejay shook his head in annoyance. Elly’s face burned, and she felt shame and total embarrassment. Suddenly she was back in Georgia, sitting in her car, her head against the steering wheel. A hole in her stomach opened up, and she let the negative feelings rush at her. Elly felt her apron tight around her waist, her wide legs in her Capri pants, her hair plastered against her forehead.
What am I doing? Why did I think I could do this? Gone was the beautiful, sassy florist, and the woman rejected by so many—rejected by the man who was supposed to love her—rose up unwelcomed inside of her. And she had chocolate on her pants, which were also ripped up the leg. The room swam before her, a bright river of pinks and greens. Here I go, Elly thought, and pressed her palms against her eyes. She felt a light hand on her shoulder. She looked up. There was an elderly man smiling down at her, his wispy white hair sticking in all directions. His kind brown eyes looked past his Willy Wonka glasses straight into her embarrassment.
“What the hell are ya’ll looking at?” he snapped at the gawking crowd. “This woman could use a paper towel! You, with the earrings,” he gestured at the punk deejay, “can you get some paper towels and stop standing there with your mouth open?”
The deejay grunted and skulked off. The rest of the crowd disseminated, murmuring to themselves. Elly turned around to the man who had saved her from a very public breakdown.
“Thank you, thank you.”
She paused.
“How bad is it?”
Elly slowly turned around, showing her chocolate covered rear to the stranger. A smile spread on his face from ear to ear.
“Well, you do look like you have had an unfortunate accident with, well … with a porta-potty.”
Elly smiled. Then she giggled. And with that, a huge laugh burst forth from her belly. The laugh opened up, and before she knew it, Elly had tears running down her face. She put her hand on the old man’s shoulder and leaned against him, this stranger, and laughed. The old man was chuckling as well.
“Here sweetheart, look in the mirror.” He grabbed a gilded mirror from one of the tables. Elly cringed. Across the back of her khaki pants spread a dark chocolate stain the size of a dinner plate. It shimmered in the sunlight.
“That is really bad. Yikes.”
The man gestured at her, “Could you tie your apron around backwards?”
Elly’s face lit up. Thank God. She spun her apron around, covering the stain. She pushed her bangs out of her face.
“I think I’m good. You saved my life today!!”
The old man smiled and nodded. “No problem darling. I’m here for the wedding. I work with the groom’s dad.” He patted her head in a grandfatherly way. “This was the highlight of my day. I hate these people and their ridiculous parties.” And with that, her angel in a suit sauntered off into the sunset, his walker propelling him slowly forward.
Elly committed herself to the task at hand, and ignored the thick brown liquid dripping off her behind. She quickly gathered up her trash and loaded it on to the cart. One last check of each centerpiece—pulling off a petal here, moving a hydrangea there—and she was finished. There was one last thing to do: she had to see the bride. Pushing her cart through the gravel gardens, she allowed herself one quick glance back at the tent. It was marvelous. A paradise made of the work of hundreds of people … and lots of daddy’s money.
Arriving at the garden house, Elly checked her apron, making sure it was covering the cow pie on her pants, and ducked into the bride’s dressing room. It looked like a bridal store had exploded. Pink high heels littered the floor. Bras were strewn about. Numerous bridesmaids, all wearing pale-green dresses, were gossiping excitedly and filling the air with aerosol hairspray. Elly doubted any of it was getting on their actual up-dos that were pulling back their eyes to give them a wild-eyed, mad bridesmaid look.
The