"That there's Everitt Johnson," explained Cathy, pointing towards the frail, withered figure entering the shop. I watched him labor to inch his way up to the counter, leaning heavily on his walker between steps. "A real sweety he is; calls in a few times a week and gets flowers to take to his wife down at the nursing home. Once we get you trained makin' orders we'll have you work the front desk. You'll see a lot of old Everitt. Now go fetch those peonies we put together earlier."
I went into the back room of the floral shop and located the vase of peonies that Cathy and I had arranged a few hours ago. The sweet aroma of the delicate flowers wafted toward me as I pulled them off the shelf. I closed my eyes and soaked in the smell, letting it dominate my senses. I hoped that my husband would still bring me flowers when we were that old.
"Find 'em?" Asked Cathy, poking her head into the back room.
"Yeah, they're right here."
I handed her the vase and followed her out to the front of the store. She set the flowers down on the counter and took a wad of crumpled cash from the trembling hand of Everitt Johnson. Cathy stuffed it in the drawer without counting it and handed him a receipt. Of course he payed with exact change.
"Would you help Everitt out to his car with these, darlin?"
"Sure thing," I said, smiling at Mr. Johnson. He gave a half-hearted smile in return.
I picked up Peonies and went to hold the door for Mr. Johnson. The smell of rain rushed in as I pulled the door open. Billowing mountains of clouds loomed on the horizon to the west, and the sky had an eerie hint of yellow-green color to it.
"Looks like rain," I said, trying to make light conversation as I walked beside him out to his old, double-parked station wagon.
"Y-you can set those," he began, pausing to take a labored breath, "... in the passenger's seat." I opened the door and saw an old car seat fastened to the passenger's chair. It had been padded with blankets, which had a perfectly vase-shaped depression in them. I placed the flowers snugly in the car seat and buckled the straps over it, securing it tightly.
"Thank you," he said as he folded up his walker and slid it in the back seat. He delicately lowered himself into the car and scooted forward until he could reach the pedals.
"Your wife is a very lucky woman," I said as I shut the passenger door. He looked me in the eyes for a moment, but said nothing. I backed away from the car and watched as he mustered up the strength to turn the key, then slowly backed out onto the road and rolled away.
It hit me about 10 minutes later; a sudden realization, a knot in my stomach.
“Cathy,” I said, interrupting her lecture on Annuals, “I think we made a mistake.”
“What do you mean honey?”
I went over to filing cabinet by the front desk and pulled out some order forms.
“Those peonies we gave Mr. Johnson. The name on the order form is wrong.”
“Oh dear,” said Cathy. “We must have mixed up the names somehow. I didn't think to check it either.”
I felt sick. It was my first week on the job. Everybody makes mistakes when they're first starting out, but this was different. I had to make this right for Mr. Johnson. I ripped open the drawer under the counter and rifled through the blank cards, pulling out the nicest-looking one I could find. I snatched a pen from behind Cathy's ear.
“Excuse you, darlin,” she said, watching over my shoulder as I hurriedly wrote “Everitt Johnson” on the “From” line and “Marlene Johnson” on the “To” line.
“Better take your coat, it's fixing to rain,” She said, as I headed toward the door.
“No time,” I replied as I flung the door open.
Cathy chuckled. “You kiddin? The way that old man drives, you could chase him down on foot.”
I ran out to my car and backed out, forgetting to check for traffic. Brakes screeched and a horn blared as a truck came roaring up behind me. What are the odds of running into traffic in a rinky-dink town like this? They managed to stop just inches short of hitting me, and I watched in the rear-view mirror as the driver waved his arms in frustration. No harm, no foul. No time to apologize. I drove down to the intersection and turned right.
Rain drops began spattering the windshield as I sped down the road heading out of town. The nursing home was located just outside the city limits on a site that had formerly been a golf course. The landscape changed noticeably as I approached, fields giving way to lush green lawns and rows of elm trees. I cranked the windshield wipers up to high as the light rain transformed into a heavy downpour.
As I pulled into the parking lot I saw Mr. Johnson walking up to the entrance, being drenched with rain as he pushed his walker with one hand and sheltered the flowers under his jacket with the other. The nearest parking spot was on the far end of the lot. I ran half-way up onto the curb as I parked, then climbed out of the car and ran toward the entrance.
I was blasted by chilly the chilly air-conditioned atmosphere and the smell of sterilizer as I entered the main lobby. Mr. Johnson was not in sight. I walked up to the service desk, still dripping wet.
“What room is Marlene Johnson staying in?”
The lady behind the desk punched a few keys, then stared at the screen for a moment in clear confusion. “No one by the name Marlene Johnson. There's a Marlene Mayweather in room 204... that's the only Marlene we have here.”
“Which way?” I asked, puzzled about the name but convinced it must be the right person.
“That way,” the receptionist said, pointing down a hallway that led north from the main lobby.
I walked quickly down the hallway, resisting the urge to break into a full sprint. 199... 200... 201... 202... 203...
“Excuse me,” a nurse said, stopping me as I approached room 204. “Are you family?”
Looking over her shoulder I could see Everitt setting the flowers down on a table and leaning over the bed to kiss his wife.
“No, I was just going to bring this-”
“Only family can visit right now I'm afraid.” The nurse turned and shut the door to the room.
“I work down at the flower shop. We got he name wrong on his flowers, I just wanted to bring him a correct card I know it's probably no big deal, it's just the idea. He's such a sweet man.”
The nurse laughed. “Neither one of them can read this little card anyway, but I can switch them out later if it'll put your mind to rest.”
“Thanks.” I handed her the card and turned to walk away.
“Wait a minute,” the nurse said, staring down at the card.
“Everitt Johnson?”
“That's right.”
She shook her head. “Everitt Johnson's been dead for 20 years.”
She opened the door back up and peered in. He sat there by the old woman's bedside, holding her hand.
“What are you talking about?”
The nurse turned to me, speaking softly. “The man in there, his name is Harold. Harold Mayweather. But Everitt Johnson, that was an ex-husband of hers. Died 20 years ago at least.”
The wheels were beginning to turn in my head. “What about an... Arliss? I can't remember the last name, but the card we gave him by mistake said Arliss, I think.”
The nurse thought for a moment. “Now that you mention it, she has started talking about an Arliss recently. Hard to make any sense of it though. Her memory is getting worse all the time.”
The realization swept over me gradually at first, then hit me full-on as I saw the sweet old man exit room 204. Tears rolled down his face as he walked past us, back toward the lobby. As I watched him walk away, I wondered:
How many times he had been forgotten?