“I promise you’ll never feel inconvenienced by the dynamic and major-money-making sustainable floral design studio now taking residence in your home.” I take a step back, eyeing the arrangements with a wrinkle in my nose before jumping back in and switching things up.
“Dynamic and major-money making?”
“I’m doing that whole ‘manifest your destiny’ bullshit.”
“I don’t think it counts if you call it bullshit five seconds after saying it.” Jack sweeps up a small pile of loose leaves, dumping them in the trash can.
“Whatever.” I take another step back, this time satisfied with what I see. I wipe down each of my “vases,” clearing away any excess water or stray bits of leaves before placing them around the lower level of the house. The coffee can goes in the center of the dining room table, the beer cans are scattered around on the bookshelves, and the ceramic vase finds a home in the kitchen. I’ll wait to take my pictures until tomorrow during the midday light, but overall, I’m pretty pleased with how each arrangement turned out.
Once I finish patting myself on the back for my floral brilliance, I spend a few minutes tidying up the counter, making sure I get every last scrap of waste, taking everything out back to the trash pile before wiping down the butcher block.
“See, good as new.” I wave my hands around the kitchen like I’m Vanna White.
“One could even argue better than new.” Jack is now perched on one of the stools at the peninsula, watching me flit about the kitchen.
“One could indeed.” I head over to the fridge. “Beer?”
“Sure.”
I pop the tops on two bottles, already thinking about how to cut the necks off and use them for next week’s flowers. Handing one to Jack, I hold mine up. “Cheers, roomie.”
He clinks his bottle against mine. “Cheers.”
An incredibly awkward silence falls over us, which is something I rarely allow to happen. But this is the first time Jack and I have really been alone, with no business guiding our conversation, and I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t know anything about him really, other than his parents died and apparently left him a shit-ton of money. And while I’m certainly not above putting my foot in my mouth and asking the awkward questions, I also don’t want to scare him too badly. It is our first full day, after all.
Jack clears his throat. “I’m just gonna go hang downstairs. Holler if you can’t find something or need a towel or whatever.” A red blush creeps up his cheeks, at least what I can see of them, and the overall effect borders on endearing.
“Yeah, cool. See you later.” I watch his back retreat down the basement stairs, sipping my beer and starting to question just how this guy is ever going to be able to live with me.
I don’t set an alarm for Monday morning, but I wake up at my usual time anyway. Thanks so much, internal clock! But I don’t mind theearly wake-up call as today is the first day of the rest of my life. I’m tempted to keep a count to see how many times I can say and think that phrase today but then decide it’s better if I don’t know.
Dressing in comfy cropped jeans, a fitted white T-shirt, and sneakers, I grab my laptop and purse and bound down the stairs, ready to meet the day.
The kitchen is empty, so Jack must not be up for work yet. I pause for a second at the front door as I realize I have no idea what Jack does for work. Mental note: stop being a selfish asshole and ask the new roommate some questions about himself.
I walk to Winner, one of the coffee shops I tested yesterday. I figure if there’s any truth to the whole “If you build it, they will come” nonsense, starting off the first day of the rest of my life at a place called Winner is bound to help. Also their croissants were bomb.
Croissant and latte in hand, I nab a spot at one of the outdoor tables and set up shop. In true Sadie style, I dive into my plans for the day. First, I make a list of all the bars within walking distance of the brownstone. I plan to stop by all of them in person throughout the week, hopefully finding one desperate enough to hire me even though I haven’t tended bar since college. Not that that was that long ago, mind you, but it’s been a few years. Second, I submerge myself in the web presences of all of Brooklyn’s top florists, taking copious notes on what to include on a website, how to market myself on Instagram, and ways to make myself stand out from the crowd. It becomes clear pretty quickly that being sustainable is going to be my niche, so I make a separate list of all the ways I want to make Bridge and Blooms the environmentally friendly florist of Mother Earth’s dreams.
As I fill page after page with to-do list items—an activity thatusually centers me better than any meditation app ever could—I start to freak out a little bit. This is a lot. Like a lot a lot, more than I expected. The words start to blur on the page in front of me, and I put my pen down and close my eyes, forcing myself to take some deep breaths.
You can do this. Take it one task at a time, one day at a time.
The inner-monologue cheerleading works for about a minute.
Hey, at least when you fail, you can go back to finance and be a grunt for the rest of your life.
“No.” My eyes fly open and, needing something to focus on, find a glass milk bottle stuffed with a single zinnia. “I’m not going to fail,” I whisper to the bright yellow bud.
Newly resolved, I pack up my stuff and head back inside to grab an iced latte for the road.
ME:I’m grabbing coffee and then heading back to the house. Want anything?
ME:If you’re home, I mean. If not, kindly ignore this text.
ME:Actually don’t ignore it because I’m standing here in the middle of the café waiting for your response and I look like a dweeb so let me know either way.
JACK:An iced coffee would be great. Thanks.
