Caleb, usually the picture of calm beside Barrett, is utterly undone. Caleb, his small face etched with worry, looks between Barrett and Ben, his plea hanging in the air.
"Daddy, help him," Caleb instructs.
A knot forms in my stomach. Not wanting to intrude, but also deeply concerned for the boy, I place my hand on Barrett's shoulder. The gesture seems to anchor Barrett in place, then he turns to me with a mixture of gratitude and understanding.
"Thanks, man," Barrett murmurs, his voice thick with emotion as he wraps his arms around Caleb.
I slowly approach Ben so I don't startle him. Kneeling beside his small frame among the petals, my own plant forgotten. I gently pull this stranger closer, stroking his hair. He smells of baby powder. "Hey, hey, what's going on?" I ask softly.
Ben, still sobbing, gestures weakly at the flowers around us…I think. "Sh-sh-she's gone," he chokes out. "I-it's m-my fault." I'm not sure what he's talking about, and now isn't the time to question him since despair radiates from him.
I glance over at Barrett, and he just motions with his chin to keep going. To comfort Ben the way he's comforting Caleb, who hates to see anyone cry or upset. This wasn't the casual flower-ordering trip I envisioned, but it's becoming something more.
I take a seat on the floor, back against the workbench. I wrap an arm around Ben and haul him into my lap, caught off guard by the unexpected intimacy. My teacher instincts kick in automatically, a well-worn response to a child in distress, but Ben isn't a child. Still, the sheer, raw grief radiating from him is almost childlike in its intensity. My arms instinctively wrap around the sobbing man as he unfolds himself and buries his face in my chest. After a minute, surprisingly, the boy leans into the unexpected embrace, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders.
"I'm Jason," I manage, voice quiet. "I'm a friend of Barrett and Caleb."
Ben's sobs subside into shaky breaths against my chest. He shifts slightly, lifts his head, and peers up at me with tear-streaked cheeks. "Jason," he repeats my name in a soft murmur. "I'm Ben." After a few more deep breaths, he looks around and the moment he realizes he's sitting on my lap, panic crosses his face and he tries to get up.
"It's okay, Ben. Just sit for a minute. You just went through something emotional. Give yourself some time to adjust." I encourage. Besides, I like having him on my lap, in my arms. It's strange since I don't even know this boy. But he feels good.Feels right.
"Can you tell me what happened, Ben?" I ask, stroking the hair on his nape.
"I'm s-so sorry. I was making an arrangement and got lost in my head, remembering my mother. I guess…I was trying to tell a story, her story, and it was just…too much." He sniffles.
Remembering? Fuck. I squeeze him to me just because I feel like he needs it.
"I'm sorry, Ben." I try to soothe some of his pain.
I look over where Barrett is holding a tear-filled Caleb before I gently release Ben, helping him to his feet. The quiet intimacy of the moment hangs in the air. Ben, looks down at his feet with a tinge of pink on his cheeks. Is he embarrassed by what happened?
"Can I give you a hug?" Caleb asks, stepping out of Barrett's arms. Ben's lips quirk up a bit, and he nods before stepping into Caleb's outstretched arms. No words are exchanged about what happened. Caleb just holds Ben close.
A feeling of quiet awe settles over me as I realize today is much bigger than just ordering friendship flowers for Grayson. It's about the unexpected beauty found in vulnerability.
I take my eyes off the two small boys in front of me and look over at a wide-eyed Barrett. He's looking past Ben and Caleb. My eyes track his, and behind them sits a flower arrangement that is…stunning.
"Ben, that is… beautiful", Barrett tells him, pulling Caleb's attention to the flowers sitting on the workbench.
Ben blushes.
It's clear he poured his heart, his memories, and his very essence into this arrangement. I must agree with Barrett. It's beautiful.
The spiral twigs, twisting like memories seeking form, the soft cloud of baby's breath, a reminder of gentleness, and the vibrant, varied blooms–each a note in a silent melody. This isn't just a job interview; it's an offering, a piece of his soul laid bare. To truly be seen and understood.
Barrett steps forward, running his fingers over the tin pot. His voice comes out thick with emotion. "Ben," he says, turning to look at him. "Kai wasn't exaggerating. This is…it's like a poem. The way you've captured a story, the life in these stems. It's breathtaking."
Caleb wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and nods enthusiastically. "It speaks of nostalgia, of growth, of the quiet strength found in nature. It's exactly what we do here at Peonies and Petals. The ability to connect, to evoke feelings through our arrangements."
"Thank you." Ben looks down at his hands that are wringing together. "It's also what I love about creating arrangements. It's what I've always loved about it. It….t's easy to have skills in putting together beautiful pieces. But when a flower arrangement can evoke emotion, that's when you know you have something special," Ben says shyly.
Well, this arrangement wasn't just arranged. It was felt. Each bloom tells part of the story, a quiet testament to a love that transcended grief. I don't know much about flowers except that they're pretty and I enjoy looking at them. Still, here, in this arrangement, I can see the raw emotion woven into the petals, the careful, deliberate placement of each leaf and stick. It isn't just talent; it's a deep feeling poured into something tangible.
"You know, Ben," Caleb starts before looking over at Barrett, who is nodding at him, offering gentle encouragement. A secret conversation between the two of them, "There's…there's something really special about how you see things." He pauses, looking at the arrangement on the workbench, letting the words settle. "I've been looking for someone to work with me at the shop. Someone with that…spark." Caleb looks directly at Ben, his gaze steady. "I want you to work with me, Ben."
A hesitant, almost hopeful smile tugs at the corners of Caleb's lips. "And don't worry," he adds, a playful glint in hiseyes. "This whole flower-induced existential crisis doesn't mean we're skipping lunch."
My mouth begins talking before my brain can catch up, breaking the silence with a soft voice, "Ben,doyou have plans for lunch?"
