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Cypress
Removing the last rubber band from the tie-dyed picnic blanket, I lift the corners and turn toward the selfie light where my phone is mounted. “Alright, wanderers.” I pause and smile to myself as I watch the bright, brilliant colors unfurl in front of me. I’ve been creating colorful tie-dyed items for years now and it never ceases to amaze me as each new item takes on a life of its own. This blanket was made using a spiral tie technique that I hadn’t tried on such a large object before, and I couldn’t be more pleased with the outcome.
“Mmm.” I continue, turning my gaze back to the phone. “So beautiful. I hope you were able to add some color and clarity to your own lives today. Stay wild and free.” After a few seconds of smiling, I walk over to the phone and remove it from the mount, turning off the recording with the touch of a finger. There won’t be much editing to do before I’m able to post the video online.
Tossing the blanket down on the table, I take my phone off do not disturb and gaze out the window at the empty sidewalk. My boutique, Poppy Petals, has been surprisingly slow today, which I blame on the weather. The sky is overcast with pregnant clouds just waiting for an opportunity to dump their tears on innocent shoppers leaving my normally busy Friday afternoon quiet. At only one in the afternoon, it might not be a bad idea to close up for the day. Save on utilities at least, this place is already costing me a fortune.
I almost feel guilty as I lock the door and turn off the open sign. Growing up on the road, I spent majority of my time working festivals with my mother. We traveled the country in an Airstream camper and set up a tent anywhere that we could rent a space to sell our wares. There were days we had no choice but to break down our tent and pack up our merchandise, missing out on a few days at a time waiting for the weather to clear. Changes in the weather would make the difference of whether or not we would eat the following day.
I have no regrets from my childhood, not many women my age can say they’d visited nearly every state in the nation before reaching puberty. If anything, I may regret not spending more time in a few places. New Orleans, for instance, was definitely the most memorable. We spent nearly a week there when I was twelve with a booth in a street festival. Of all the places we visited while I was growing up, New Orleans is one of the only places that made the list of cities I’d like to go back to. Sadly, though, I haven’t been able to take the time to go back yet. Maybe this’ll be the year.
My phone rings in my left hand while I’m locking the door, interrupting me from my thoughts of travelling. Seeing the word ‘Mom’ on the screen brings a smile to my face. I haven’t spoken to her for a few days, so I wonder where she’s calling me from. “Hi, Mom,” I answer in greeting as I walk back to the counter to empty out the cash register.
“Hey, Baby. Happy birthday!” She exclaims.
“Thank you.” I close my eyes, willing away the tears threatening to break free. This will be the first birthday I’ve ever spent alone. I left my nomadic lifestyle behind years ago when I decided to attend college in Arizona, but I’ve at least had friends surrounding me on my birthday, even when I couldn’t spend it with my mother. Part of me had hoped that I could have seen her today, but I know that’s not always possible. She’d be travelling of course to wherever the festivals take her. “Where are you today?”
“We’re in St. Louis. There’s a river festival here close to the arch. I was thinking of riding the elevator to the top. Can you imagine the view from up there?”
I giggle silently knowing that she’ll never actually go to the top of the arch. I tried to get her to go up with me years ago, the first time we were there for a river festival. I’ve never had a fear of heights, I was always fascinated by them actually. My mother on the other hand, she’s happy with both feet planted firmly on the ground. We had walked around the visitor’s center at the base of the arch for several hours, looking at all the photographs of the arch being built. She stared at the elevator for a long time trying to convince herself to take it up to the top with me but eventually succumbed to her fear. I never did take that ride to the top, I was only ten at the time and there was no way she would let me go up by myself.
“David says he’ll take pictures for both of us if I can’t bring myself to go up with him,” she says. A shudder goes down my spine at the mention of my stepfather’s name. My mother married him when I was thirteen, moving both him and his fifteen-year-old son into our little Airstream with us. My own father had left before I was born so I never knew him.
“Maybe today will be your day,” I tell her.
“I doubt it,” she sighs heavily. “Speaking of which, David and Jase say happy birthday.”
“Jase is still travelling with you?” I shake my head while putting the bank pouch into my hobo bag. Jase is two years older than me, and I figured he would have moved on by now. He never wanted to do any work at the festivals we visited. He hated them as far as I knew. He used to tell me the only reason he kept going to them with his father was for the ‘scenery’. It wasn’t until later that I realized the ‘scenery’ that he was referring to was of the female variety. He had a thing for the ladies.
“Oh, yes. He’s still with us. He’s become quite helpful actually and he’s handy with a wrench. If it weren’t for him, we would have been forced to park ages ago. I still believe he’s the only reason our old truck is still running.”
“You’re still driving that old truck?” I ask, trying to change the subject away from David and Jase. I don’t want to talk about either one of them. I don’t have fond memories of them since they blasted into our lives thirteen years ago. They were both living in a run-down motel in Des Moines when my mother met David. She fell for his charms almost instantly making Des Moines the longest tour we had together. My mother found a flea market close to the motel and set up a booth outside for almost three months just to keep us in the area.
When we finally left Des Moines, she had moved David and Jase into the Airstream with us. She swore she was in love, and married David only a few months later during a trip through Las Vegas. I knew right away there was something not right with both of them. But my mother wouldn’t hear of it. She was in love, there was nothing I could do to convince her otherwise.
“Yes,” she answers. “But I don’t know how much longer Jase will be able to keep it running. It might be time to start looking for a replacement.”
“You could always find a place to settle down. Stop travelling all together.” I’ve been trying to get her to stop travelling for years, ever since I gave it up myself and realized how much more rewarding it was to plant my roots in one place.
“You know I’ll never stop travelling. It’s all I’ve ever known, I couldn’t possibly give it up yet. One day, maybe, when my body can’t do it anymore.”
I shudder just thinking about her body not being able to tolerate the travel anymore. I can only hope when she does get to that point that she settles somewhere close enough to me that I can help take care of her.
“I miss you, Mom.” I whisper into the phone.
“I know, Baby. I miss you too.”
“Thank you for calling me.” A tear escapes despite my best efforts to keep it contained. “I gotta go. I’m closing up the shop early today because of the weather and it looks like it’s going to start raining any minute. I need to get to the bus stop before the bottom falls out.”
“Okay. I love you, Cypress. I’ll talk to you again soon.”
“Bye mama. I love you too.” Hanging up the phone, I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder. I turn off the lights and lock the door on my way out before turning my gaze to the heavy rain clouds overhead. The bus stop is two blocks away and I hope I can get on the bus before the rain starts. At least there’s a nice breeze today, the temperature’s not too warm considering it’s the beginning of January. Of all the places I visited growing up, I’m glad to be in a location that doesn’t have harsh winter weather. You don’t realize how cold some places get in the winter until you’re living in a tin can and trying to warm up under a mass of blankets and second-hand sweaters.
Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long for the bus to arrive and I make it into my apartment building only seconds before the sky falls down on the empty sidewalk behind me. Literally. It starts pouring right as the door closes behind me.
“Hello, Cypress. You’re back early today.” I’m greeted by a sweet voice as soon as I enter the building.
“Hello, Mrs. Abernathy,” I answer. “There wasn’t any reason to stay open with this weather moving in.” Mrs. Abernathy is the apartment manager that lives on the first floor. She’s a tiny little grey-haired widow who likes to think she’s everyone’s grandmother, at least everyone that lives in this building. She never had any children of her own and lost her husband of forty years only a few years ago. The two of them lived in the apartment that she’s currently standing in until he passed away. I look at her over my shoulder as I open my mailbox. Mrs. Abernathy is sipping her tea in her doorway as she watches me with a smile on her face.
“Oh yes. I’ve been watching the clouds moving in all day. It’s about time too, it hasn’t rained here in almost three years. It’s a good thing I didn’t have to go out anywhere today though, I just had my hair done.”
“It looks lovely.” I smile down at her as I walk toward the elevator.
“Thank you, dear.”
“Have a nice day, Mrs. Abernathy.” I call out as the elevator opens. This is a small building, only five floors with two units on each floor. I live on the top floor in a small one bedroom facing the street. It’s cheap and conveniently located close to the yoga studio, Celestial Beings, where I teach a yoga class two days each week. I started teaching there a few months ago when the regular instructor got injured and had to take some time off. Since she’s returned full time, I only fill in as needed. Thankfully, since opening my boutique in Echo Park, I haven’t needed to pick up as many yoga classes to make ends meet.
Once inside my apartment, I lock the door and set the chain before sliding the curtain to cover it. I installed a thick curtain to the door the day I moved in, one that covers it from top to bottom sealing off any light around the edges. I flip the switch next to the door to turn on the overhead lights in the living space and hallway. There’s only one window in the living room which is covered with a thick curtain keeping it dark and private in my apartment. The bedroom similarly has only one window which is also covered with a thick curtain blocking out all outside light.
The apartment I rent is small and private. I selected the apartment on the top floor without the balcony so there is no access from the outside at all. The windows have bars installed on them just for additional safety even though you’d have to be Spider-Man to gain access to either of my windows, but one can never be too safe.
I don’t share any walls with my neighbors since there are only two apartments on this floor. My closest neighbor is across the hallway from me leaving at least three feet of space between the two of us at all times. I’ve never met my neighbor across the hall, despite Mrs. Abernathy’s matchmaking attempts. She means well, I’m sure, but I just haven’t wanted to take that step. I’m not good at meeting people and often give the wrong first impression. I’ve been known to be awkward when it comes to flirting.
Once I’m sure the curtain is in place and the door completely covered, I move to the bedroom. Placing my bag on top of the dresser, I close the bedroom door and repeat the same actions as before, securing the lock before pulling another curtain closed over the bedroom door. I move to the window and double check the curtain covering the window to make sure it hasn’t shifted during the day to allow any light to enter from outside before moving to my closet to change my clothes.
I remove my ankle length hemp skirt and toss it into the hamper in the corner of the room before pulling a pair of yoga pants from the closet. Slipping my sweater over my head, I replace it with a loose-fitting t-shirt before opening the curtain and bedroom door to walk out to the kitchen.
I decide to grab the small pint of pistachio ice cream out of the freezer before moving to the couch with my kindle. I splurged this morning on a book by Lauren Landish for my birthday. Just because I have to spend my birthday alone, doesn’t mean that I can’t spend some time with my new book boyfriend, Connor. “Happy birthday to me.” I exclaim as I curl my legs up on the couch beneath me.
One thing to be said about being single at twenty-six is not having to feel guilty about spending the afternoon on the couch with a good book. I don’t have anyone to cook for, no one to wait on hand and foot. Not that I don’t want that, eventually. But I’m just not in a place to have it yet. To be honest, I’m not sure if I will be any time soon. It’s hard to meet someone when you don’t trust people.
I don’t have long to be able to read before I need to leave for the yoga studio to teach a late class. The normal instructor, Cindy, had gotten sick a few days ago and I agreed to take her class tonight.
I finish a few chapters of my book before I check the time and notice it’s after six. I’ll have to rush if I want to catch the next bus downtown. I could walk, but that would put me at the studio only fifteen minutes before the next class starts and wouldn’t give me enough time to warm up before all the ladies start coming in.
Setting my kindle down on the coffee table, I take the empty ice cream pint to the kitchen and toss my spoon in the sink. Stopping by the hall closet, I grab my cardigan and leave, locking the door before pulling it shut. It’s not until I’m on the sidewalk outside that I realize I left my purse upstairs on my dresser. There isn’t enough to time to run back up and grab it without missing the bus, thankfully my bus pass is on my phone.
I realize once I’m on the bus headed downtown that I don’t have my apartment key either. I’m not sure why I should be surprised at my forgetfulness, it isn’t anything new for me. Some days I’m sure I would leave my head at home if it weren’t already attached to my shoulders. I can only hope that Mrs. Abernathy is still awake when I get back tonight so she can let me into my apartment. I’ll just have to rush after the class is over to get back home before she falls asleep.
Class goes smoothly at least. The rain finally passed through a few hours ago so it didn’t stop anyone from being able to show up tonight. It’s always nice to see some familiar faces in the crowd, as well as some new ones. I do recognize one familiar face though that I’m glad to see. She always stood out to me before thanks to her cotton candy pink hair. I believe her name is Marie. I remember a few months ago seeing her in one of my classes and she had looked like she wasn’t sleeping well. I’m glad to see that she’s looking more rested these days, so I hope these classes are at least helping her to relax.
On the way out of the studio, I stop by Marie in the hall as she’s putting her mat away. “Good to see you,” I say, laying a hand softly on her shoulder. “It’s been a while. How have you been?”
“Great, thank you for asking.” She smiles at me as she stands up straight and steps away from the mat rack. “I want you to meet my friend, Julie.” She holds her hand out to her left toward an auburn-haired woman with adorable tortoise shell glasses.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Cypress,” I say holding my hand out toward her.
She places her hand in mine and squeezes lightly. “You too. I had a great time tonight. Sorry I didn’t know most of the moves, I’m still a beginner.”
“Doesn’t matter.” I assure her with a smile. I knew right away that she was a beginner, something about her off balance poses and the way her cheeks would turn the slightest shade of pink when she would catch herself before hitting the floor. “Yoga isn’t about being perfect. It’s about letting go and relaxing. Besides, your friend is pretty good at it. She can probably help you improve your balance.”
“Not to mention flexibility.” She says with a giggle. “I’ve realized I’m not as flexible as I thought I was after doing some of these poses tonight. My muscles are barking at me.”
“A warm bath is perfect for that,” I tell her. “Anyway, nice to see you ladies.” Before either of them can respond, I back away and turn to the exit. I didn’t bring anything with me besides my phone and my cardigan, so I don’t have to stop by the locker room before rushing to the bus stop. “Good night, Stephanie.” I yell over my shoulder as I walk out the studio door onto the sidewalk.
Taking a deep breath, I walk toward the bus stop two blocks away. The sidewalk is crowded tonight being that it’s Friday so I’m not able to walk as fast as I would like to. Unfortunately, that means the last bus is pulling away as the bench comes into sight. Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, I release a heavy sigh and hang my head. No sense in rushing now, looks like I’m walking.
Getting jolted by someone bumping my shoulder gets me moving again, blending into the foot traffic as best I can. The sidewalks are filled with people in typical Friday night fashion. This neighborhood has several high-end clubs that have lines of waiting patrons sometimes as long as two city blocks. I have no desire to be part of the waiting crowd, I just want to get home before Mrs. Abernathy falls asleep and I have to spend the night out in the hallway of my apartment building.
I make it only a few blocks before I feel the rain drops on my forehead. It’s about that time that people start to walk faster, pushing each other to get through the crowd and to a safe dry place before getting drenched by the oncoming rain.
My knees hit the pavement hard as I’m pushed out of the way by someone causing me to trip. Trying to stand up, I’m shoved again by another person rushing to get to their destination quickly. I shouldn’t be surprised by the carelessness of people in their blind rush to outrun the rain. Each time I attempt to get to my feet, I’m pushed back down against the unforgiving sidewalk and my knees are protesting harshly.
Hoping to preserve the skin on my knees, I stay down in my current position and curl into a protective ball. Both of my hands are pulled into my chest, my phone fisted in one hand protectively, as I wait for the crowd to thin out enough for me to stand. The rain picks up at that point, soaking the cardigan against my back and sending a chill through my body.
“Hey! Watch it!” I hear a deep voice bellow from nearby, but I don’t lift my head to see where it’s coming from. The rain stops suddenly when I feel a hand press softly against my back. Lifting my head, I’m instantly lost in the most brilliant green eyes I’ve ever seen. “Are you okay?” He asks me in a deep timber, low enough to be mistaken for a growl.
“Y-yes,” I say, my voice shaky as a shiver runs down my spine.
He wraps his hand around my bicep and pulls softly, helping me to my feet. It’s then that I notice the umbrella that he’s holding over my head, stopping the rain from soaking me further than it has already. He notices when I wince while standing and he stops moving. “Are you hurt?” He asks, his concerned expression unmistakable as he looks me over from head to toe and back up again.
“My knees.” I reach down and put a palm against one of my knees and clench my teeth against the pain. “Ouch.”
“Come on.” He says, removing his hand from my arm and placing it against the small of my back. “I’ll give you a ride.”
“No.” I protest. “I’m okay, I was just going to walk.” Taking a step away from him, I nearly go down again when the pain shoots up my leg. I guess I hit the sidewalk harder than I thought.
He watches me for a moment, one eyebrow raised, and his head cocked to one side. “How far do you have to go?”
Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I debate how much to disclose to him. I don’t know this man even though he’s the only person out here that was nice enough to even help me up. But getting a ride from him? That’s a line that I should definitely not cross. How can I trust him? “I usually take the bus,” I admit reluctantly.
“Well, unfortunately there aren’t any more of those tonight. Come on, I’ll take you home.” I watch as he moves his blazer out of the way and puts his hand into his pocket presumably for his keys. When his blazer moves, I see the shield clipped to his belt and relief washes over me.
“You’re a cop?”
“Detective.” He answers proudly. He looks a little young to be a detective. Don’t they have to be older or something? Still, I should feel safer about the fact that he’s in law enforcement at least.
Truth be told, the only reason that I’m agreeing to this gorgeous man giving me a ride home is because my knees hurt too bad to walk all the way home. My normal forty-five-minute walk would end up being more like two hours in this rain with my newly formed limp. “Fine.” I relent.
He smiles as he steps closer, moving the umbrella to ensure that it’s still blocking the rain from soaking me further and placing his hand on the small of my back. Thankfully, we don’t have to go far. He has an SUV parked on the street just a few feet away. We stop next to the passenger door, and he removes his hand long enough to unlock and open the door for me. “Here you go.” He says as he helps me into the car. Only when I’m situated in the front passenger seat with my seatbelt on does he finally close the door and walk around to the driver’s side.
“Thank you for helping me out.” I say as he closes his door and puts the key into the ignition.
“No problem.” He smiles at me as he buckles his seatbelt. “So, where to?” I rattle off the address and he lowers his brows as he looks back at me. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Why?” He just laughs as he turns his gaze out the front windshield and pulls out into traffic.