The Language of Flowers, page 8
“I’ve got a woodblock print project I’ve been working on. I need these carved.” He gestured to the wood pieces lined on a long counter against the wall. “And if you say a computer can simulate this effect I will banish you from here.”
“What’s the point of stating the obvious?”
“Go on and say it.”
“What?”
He gestured to the room. “Bryant isn’t here so you don’t have to pretend anymore. You think I’m ridiculous.”
She sent him a curious look. “Yes. Again, why state the obvious?”
Now they were getting somewhere. Here would come the insults. “And you think this room is childish, banal, overwrought rubbish.”
Keeden steeled himself for a raised chin, a glint in her eyes before her acid tongue shot its poison.
Instead Maya looked hurt. “Why would I think that? Oh, is it because you think I’m too stupid to see the atmospheric design you were going for?”
His heart constricted at the expression. He hadn’t expected to hurt her. “No.”
“I’m just a dumb teacher so of course I don’t have the superior artistic eye to see anything worthy of notice. Why would a plebian like me see anything, right?”
Keeden stared at her stunned. No, wait. This wasn’t how they played this game.
“Even when I’m trying to be nice you can’t miss an opportunity to put me down,” Maya said with a reluctant sigh. “To put me in my place.” She softly swore before she mumbled, “I shouldn’t have let Bryant get to me. I shouldn’t have listened to him. I know what you’re really like.” She raised her voice and looked at him. “I’ll always be an easy target for you.”
For a moment Keeden felt ill. She was supposed to look angry, irritated not hurt. She knew the rules. He threw a verbal punch and she punched back or vice versa. He’d never wounded her before. The thought unnerved him. “So you really like it?”
He hated how vulnerable he sounded, but he had to know.
“Yes,” she said acid back in her tone.
“Maya, I—”
“And I’m so disappointed that this amazing studio belongs to a jerk like you that I might actually cry. I can’t be in here anymore. I’ll start working tomorrow.” She ran out of the room but not before he caught the sight of her tears.
17
Keeden collapsed onto the stool Maya had abandoned, feeling as if he’d been hit by an avalanche.
Something had just happened and he didn’t know what. He couldn’t interpret it. The Maya who had just raced out of his studio was not the Maya he knew. That Maya was a stranger, as was the one who’d also made him laugh, the one who’d assessed his unfinished story and debated him, challenged him. Did she want to impress Bryant so much that she’d changed her personality? Or did she want to butter Keeden up so that he’d hold up his end of the bargain? Didn’t she know that he’d help her anyway? The sooner she was gone the better. She didn’t have to pretend to be nice to him.
But what truly disturbed him was that she didn’t seem to be pretending. Her words and actions seemed genuine. Even the interested look in her eyes. He’d wanted to talk to her more.
That had never happened before.
Well, it had happened years ago before he discovered the truth about how she felt about him. But not since then.
What the hell was going on?
Keeden jumped when he heard the door slam. He looked up and saw Bryant. And from the look on his friend’s face he’d royally messed up.
Bryant wasn’t smiling.
When Bryant didn’t smile that meant trouble. Bryant usually had a welcoming grin, a devious smirk, a broad smile or a sly quirk. It was his trademark.
But at that moment there was no trace of it.
He looked furious. That was the look Keeden had expected from Maya, not his friend. This was proof his world had been flipped upside down.
Bryant march over to him and did one of the few things Keeden detested. He folded his arms and stared him down.
They used to do it in college. Keeden usually won, he could outstare anyone, but this time there was something so dark in his friend’s gaze and Keeden felt shaken from Maya’s uncharacteristic behavior that after a few seconds he had to look away.
He swore and sat back down. “Just say it.”
His friend remained silent.
He shot him a look. “I mean it.”
“I’m trying to figure out...”
Keeden stood. “Figure it out on your own time.”
Bryant pushed him back down. “Don’t make me regret knowing you.” His arms fell to his sides. “I spent nearly ten mintues singing your praises. Buttering her up so she’d see you in a different light and you destroy it in two seconds.” He threw his arms out to the side. “It’s just a bloody room.”
Keeden blinked. That was not what he’d expected him to say. “What?”
“If you want to get angry at someone take it out on me not her.”
Keeden opened his mouth then closed it not knowing what to say. His mind racing. Everything felt topsy-turvy. Chaos. The woman was chaos.
Bryant rested his hands on his hips. “What the hell did you say to her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t give me that. You don’t hurt someone like that and not know what you did.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt her. I thought when you told me what she said about the studio that she was lying.”
“Why would she lie?”
Because she likes you and hates me that’s why! That was the natural order of things.
Keeden briefly closed his eyes, feeling the world spinning. This was too much stimulation. He felt emotionally worn. “I don’t know,” he said in a quiet voice. “I honestly don’t know.”
“Do you think she’d have fixed your sculpture if she was lying?”
So she had been the one to repair the damage and Bryant had helped her.
She’d probably done it to impress Bryant, but now Keeden wasn’t so sure. His mouth suddenly felt dry. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.” It was the truth even though he knew neither would believe him.
“If you want this to work, you’d better apologize.”
No, he didn’t want to face her right now. He shifted in his seat, traced an image with his finger. “I think it’d be better if you do it. You’re always my good manners.”
“No.”
He traced another image. He knew how to get to Bryant. His friend had a soft heart and if he kept his tone quiet and humble enough his friend would cave. “I really messed up. We both know it’d sound more sincere coming from you. Flash one of your smiles and she’ll be putty in your hands.”
Bryant continued to stare at him unmoved.
“I mean it. You should check on her. See if she’s okay.” She’d love that: Bryant going to her in a moment of need, caring about her. This would be a perfect way to make it up to her. “Please. I know I’m the last person she wants to see right now and...and I might say something and make it worse.”
Bryant hesitated.
Keeden bit his lip. His friend was wavering. With one nudge he’d fall. “I’m begging you.”
Bryant relented and nodded. “Fine.”
Keeden inwardly cheered his success.
“But only this once,” he called over his shoulder as he walked to the door.
“While you’re at it, thank her for fixing the sculpture too.”
Bryant stopped in the doorway and turned to him. He didn’t smile, which meant Keeden would have to find a way to make it up to his friend too, but he didn’t look as furious as before. “I’ll apologize for you,” he said, “but you’ll have to thank her yourself.”
18
“That dress looks so good on you.”
Maya listened to the soft sound as the ASMR artist stroked her hand over the velvet material. It was the second video she’d watched. She didn’t usually get her fix in the daytime, preferring it as a nighttime meditation but Keeden had so infuriated her she’d been forced to break her routine.
After dealing with his insults Maya had run into her room and locked the door, ashamed the threat of tears had been real. She’d barely left the studio before they began flowing like a waterfall down her cheeks. She’d bumped into Bryant in the hall before she reached the stairs and he’d called out her name, but she’d raced passed him. It was doubly humiliating to let him see her like that, but at least the jerk hadn’t. She hadn’t given him that satisfaction.
The sobs hit the moment she closed the door.
Everything that had happened was too reminiscent of that day. That horrible day and his cold words.
Words she’d feared were true.
Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach.
Keeden had sliced her in two with everyone—her parents, her half-sisters, the elders—watching, and left her a laughingstock. She wanted to block out the still hauntingly painful memory so she’d grabbed her cell phone. She would have buried herself under the sheets, but, of course, the bed was unmade. So she’d had to grab a sheet and wrap it around herself, briefly annoyed by how soft the fabric was when it brushed against her cheek(the bastard had good taste), and jumped on the bed and started watching videos.
Sounds of comfort. A way to escape. In this other place she belonged. She could pretend someone was happy to see her, that they truly cared.
“How about a scarf?” the ASMR artist continued.
That jerk. She knew she shouldn’t have let her guard down. Why had she listened to Bryant telling her about how much Mr. Adesina hadn’t supported his son’s dream?
Why had she thought the man who’d created such a creative, touching yet simple tale could be kind? There were plenty of artists who created brilliant works who were tyrants underneath.
“Maya?”
She froze. Bryant. He was knocking on her door. He was calling her name. For years this had been a dream of hers.
Why did it suddenly feel like a nightmare? She sniffed and touched her tear stained cheeks. This was not how she’d pictured it. Her heart began to pound. If she stayed really still perhaps he’d go away...
“Maya, I know you’re in there. I can hear you listening to something.”
She swore. She’d kept the volume on her cell phone too high. She hadn’t been thinking.
She couldn’t tell him to go away. She could never do that.
“I really want to talk to you,” he said. “I won’t take long, but it’s important that I do and not through the door like this.”
Damn.
He wasn’t going to leave. “Uh...give m-me a…uh…minute.” She jumped up and stared at herself in the vanity mirror.
She suppressed a scream at the sight of her red, puffy eyes. Her hand flew to her head. And when did she lose her headscarf? Her wayward hair sprung up all over her head like vines. She could not let him see her like that. “Um...my room is a…um…mess could we uh talk s-somewhere else?”
“The garden—”
“Not the garden.” She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she hadn’t sounded so sharp. “I-I mean...if y-you don’t mind.”
“I don’t. I’ll just meet you on the patio when you’re ready. Five minutes enough?”
No. “Okay.” She heard his footsteps fade away.
She opened her bag glad she’d grabbed the one with a pair of sunglasses. That would hide her eyes, now she had to do something about her hair, but she didn’t have time.
Maya crept to the door and slowly opened it. The hallway was empty.
Good.
She tiptoed out of her room and went to the foot of the stairs. That’s when she saw her lost headscarf, on the ground, hanging off one of the railing balusters. She hurried down the stairs and grabbed it. Victory.
Now all she had to do was rewrap her hair, perhaps put some lipstick on and then she’d be ready for Bryant.
She hurried up the stairs then stopped when a figure appeared at the top: Keeden.
She stared up at him.
He stared down at her.
She gripped the railing.
He held out his good hand.
“I’m not going to fall,” she said, surprised she could manage words.
“I know that. Give me the scarf.”
She held it protectively close. “I need it.”
“I know,” he said impatiently. “He won’t wait forever. You need to do something with your hair, unless you want to turn him into stone.”
Medusa. He was comparing her to a monster with snakes on her head.
He took her moment of outrage to grab the scarf, spin her around and quickly wrap her hair. “You look good, now wait a minute.”
She turned to say something to him, meet his eyes, but his gaze was fixated on the ground as he rummaged in his jeans pocket. He pulled out a bracelet and pair of hanging earrings. “Here.” When she stared at the objects, he impatiently said, “Bryant likes gold.”
She slid on the bracelet then took the earrings. “Did you design these?”
“My sister left them on her last visit,” Keeden said, which didn’t answer her question and she had a sneaking suspicion he didn’t plan to.
He unceremoniously turned and walked away. She put on the earrings then marched down the stairs, the farther away she was from him the better.
Bryant stood up when he saw her. He smiled. His beauty competing with the brightness of the sun.
“You really had me worried but then you waltz out here looking like a movie star.” He pulled out one of the seven tan colored chairs surrounding the long rectangular table.
“A movie star?”
“With the sunglasses and how you styled your hair. I’m glad Keeden didn’t rattle you too much.”
Maya tried to see her reflection in the window but only saw a blurred image. But as long as Bryant was impressed it didn’t matter who had done her hair.
Bryant poured her some raspberry lemonade. “He’s the reason I wanted to talk to you.” He sighed. “He’s not the easiest man to get along with but he does need your help.”
“I uh won’t quit if t-that’s um uh what you’re worried about.”
“I am, but also...he didn’t mean to hurt you. Whatever he said he’s sorry. He took the coward’s way out and wanted me to tell you. He was insistent saying you’d take it better from me than him.”
He was right. Sort of. In the past she would have cherished this moment. She was alone with Bryant, and he was smiling at her and looking sincere and concerned on her behalf and yet...
And yet she felt a sense of disappointment that Keeden hadn’t apologized himself.
She thought about their encounter on the stairs. His eyes had been guarded rather than cold and comparing her to Medusa had more of a teasing tone than a brutal criticism. He’d actually helped her.
No one had helped her like that before. Her mother deemed her useless and Ava and Cat, at first, were too young (being seven and eight years her junior) and then she left home at nineteen and was too focused on her studies and being a broke student to focus on her looks. In later years, if her sisters offered to help her, she never gave them the chance. It felt too embarrassing. They didn’t struggle with styling the way she did.
But quickly and efficiently Keeden had styled her hair and made her look good for Bryant. So good that Bryant had actually complimented her. And the feeling felt so strange, surreal, but instead of basking in it she wanted to get a mirror and see what Keeden had done.
“...if you want—”
“Will you excuse me for a minute?” Maya interrupted, feeling ashamed that she hadn’t been listening to him but knowing that her curiosity was only growing. “I’ll be right back.”
She raced into the powder room, took off her sunglasses and stared at her reflection in the mirror.
She gasped.
This time she didn’t look like a nightmare.
This time she looked like a stylish figure. How had Keeden managed to get that effect with a headscarf and only the use of one hand? The way he twisted the fabric allowed the pattern of the cloth to both sculpt her head and give her height. And the earrings and bracelet, instead of overwhelming her short neck, chubby wrist and round face, complimented them.
He was too much of a coward to apologize himself.
She knew this act had been his apology and in an instant she was able to forgive him. Dumb jerk, she muttered feeling better.
“Are you okay?” Bryant asked when Maya returned to the table.
“Yes, I’m fine and it’s okay. You don’t need to be Keeden’s good manners. I’ll know how to handle him from now on.”
Bryant looked relieved. “I’m glad to hear that.”
Maya lifted her glass and took a sip before she smiled. “Me too.”
19
Under the cover of darkness.
Maya thought of Keeden’s words as she carried her last bag to her bedroom undetected by Bryant or any household staff.
The house remained quiet and still as evening settled, cocooning the house in a soft pink and purple haze.
After enjoying a delicious chef-prepared dinner of spicy fish and brown rice while Bryant made her laugh—and Maya still not able to form coherent sentences (she really had to work on that)—she’d disappeared into her room and taken the opportunity to get the rest of her things.
She hadn’t seen Keeden for hours.
“He likes to keep odd hours,” Bryant had told her at dinner, which they ate on the patio, a soft breeze carrying the scent of the lime accent in the meal. She’d asked (only out of politeness) if Keeden was going to join them. “Don’t worry,” Bryant assured her. “You probably won’t see him the rest of the day. You’re safe until tomorrow.”
She thanked him, still struggling to remember how to talk and swallow, but also feeling a little guilty. It wasn’t that she was trying to find out Keeden’s schedule in order to avoid him. She was truly curious.
Which made no sense at all.
