Forever Soul Ties

He maketh wars to cease unto the end of the earth; he breaketh the bow, and cutteth the spear in sunder; he burneth the chariot in the fire.

“I got you,” he said as he quickly rushed over and caught me. I hurriedly righted myself and took a step away from him. He glanced down at my feet as though he was looking for the culprit of me almost falling. I looked down as well, as though I, too, was looking for a reason for my lost footing. “I’m all right,” I said. “Thanks for the save.”

He smiled, and in a warm, chocolaty-smooth voice said, “Butterfly.” He shook his head as he bit down on his bottom lip, then said, “My beautiful little black butterfly.”

I swiftly glanced down again. “My shoes. I guess I should have worn a different pair. These are a bit high, at least for this type of floor here. They’re not broken in good . . . my shoes, that is . . . the soles of them . . . These shoes just happen to match. . . .”

“You haven’t changed a bit,” he said with a grin. “You’re still that same funny, bubbly, wonderfully beautiful girl I met all those years ago when you were thirteen.”

I touched my hair with its strands of silver. “That’s not true; I’m much, much older now.”

He continued to smile. “Which merely confirms that wine does indeed only get better with time.” He stared into my eyes, then ticked his head twice.

“Well, Spears . . . Spear Carrier, let me get your order,” I said, bringing us both back to reality.

He laughed. “Spears? Spear Carrier? No one calls me Spears or Spear Carrier anymore. Well, hardly anyone. Talk about a throwback.”

I grinned. “Is that right?” I’d never called him Spears or Spear Carrier, not even back then. I’d always called him by his given name: Ethan Duane Roberts.

“That was way back in the day,” he said. “Back when I was into javelin throwing. I was good though. I loved throwing a javelin.” He made an imaginary throw. “I really thought I was going to make it to the Olympics: throwing, running, jumping . . . something.”

“Well, I guess we all had big dreams back then.”

He looked intensely at me. “Yeah. We did, didn’t we? I was into sports big time. And you—”

“Had dreams of other things.” I nodded. My way of ending where his statement was about to lead us. “Let me get your order.” I walked into the back room and retrieved the flowers he’d ordered.

“My goodness! Those are gorgeous!” he said when I stepped back in carrying a crystal vase of flowers like it was a hard-earned trophy. “Absolutely. . . beautiful!”

I set them on the counter so he could get a better look at them. “Thank you, Mister Roberts,” I said. “I’m glad you like them. I believe your wife will be impressed with you for purchasing these. This arrangement is my top-of-the-line offering.”

“Oh, you think, huh?” His tone was dismissive.

“Is there something wrong with them? Something you don’t like or that you need me to fix?” I asked. “I want my customers to be satisfied. So if—”

“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with the flowers. In fact I’ve never seen anything so lovely . . . so magnificent, so gorgeous,” he said before making an obvious show of gazing deeply into my eyes. “Well, almost never,” he said with a mischievous grin.

“Are you sure you like them? Are you sure now?”

“Oh, I’m more than sure. And I’m more than satisfied. It’s just my wife . . . Oh, forget it. I’m sure she’s going to love them . . . or not.”

I started to pursue where he was going with that, but then realized it really wasn’t my business. If he loved what I’d done, then my job was completed. I told him the total amount owed. He handed me a gold credit card. I processed it, had him sign, and that was that—the end of our transaction.

“Thanks,” I said.

“My pleasure,” he said.

As he carefully picked up the large vase of flowers, it occurred to me that he might have a time with them in the car. “Let me get a box for you to set the vase in so it won’t tip over.” I went to the back again and returned with a box adequate enough to handle the task.

“Thanks again,” he said. “And I’m definitely going to send more business your way.”

“I certainly will appreciate that. With the slight economic downturn, it’s been hard out here for folks with their own businesses. No one’s giving us much of a hand up. At least, not here.”

“Well, thanks again,” he said as he headed toward the door.

I hurried to the door and opened it for him. “Oh, it was my pleasure. Do come back again . . . and soon,” I said. And as quickly as those words left my mouth, I wished I hadn’t said them. Not because I hadn’t meant them; I say those exact same words to every single person who patronizes my business. In fact, it’s part of my mission statement. I will let my customers know it was a pleasure serving them. And I will always invite existing customers to patronize my business again. But for some reason, saying those words to Ethan “Spears . . . Spear Carrier” Roberts had a totally different meaning. Totally different.

At least, they did for me.