Bloom

When we arrived at the cottage, Amy sat down long enough to eat a plate of shrimp salad. I politely turned her down when she offered some to me. Not only had I made her stop so I could buy a hot dog on the way home, but I wanted to save myself the embarrassment of having to eat with the tiny fork again. Literally seconds after throwing her dishes in the sink, Amy began running throughout the house at supersonic speed. First she tidied up where I had slept in the couch, then laid out more clothes where my makeshift bed had been.

"Are we expecting company?"

"Quite the opposite. Get yourself cleaned up while I shower. We leave at 6:00 sharp!" she called, nearly sprinting down the hallway toward the bathroom, and slammed the door behind herself.

There wasn't really much for me to do while she was in the bathroom, where the comb, soap, and hopefully a razor were. How long did this woman expect me to go without a shower? Hygiene is somewhat important, even for a guy like me. I was mostly concerned with trimming my beard and brushing my teeth.

Amy occupying the bathroom did have one positive aspect. The nosy part of me had time to look for any signs of normalcy in her home. If she wasn't going to give me sufficient answers, I was going to find them on my own. Technically, I wasn't being nosy. Any normal person would answer the simple questions I had asked and I wouldn't have to go searching. It just so happened I wasn't dealing with a normal person.

I started in the kitchen, where I happened to acquire a glass of tea, and a yogurt. I hadn't noticed the tiny green rotary-dialer phone next to the fridge before. It reminded me of my jeep, back at the beach. My cell phone was more than likely dead from all the calls I had missed. Most of them were probably from dad, and I don't think I want to deal with him anytime soon.

Next to the vintage phone was a small composition book. I opened it, expecting scribbles and scratches that I wouldn't be able to gather anything from; however, Amy surprised me by having elegant cursive writing.

I guess it made sense that Amy would have a contact book right next to the phone. I thumbed through the pages, finding the typical entries you'd expect from anyone:

Summer: 555-1090

Guy that fixes the toilet (Jeremy?): 556-3295

There were two numbers written on the back of the book without a name, which made me shake my head. They were virtually useless numbers if you didn't know who you were calling.

When I got to the other side of the fridge, I winced upon seeing the piano. It made me recall the injury it had given me earlier that morning. On top of its smooth surface was a potted plant, and I was taking a guess, but I was nearly positive this was what Amy had threatened me about previously. What was so special about it? It was just a clay pot with barely any life detectable there. It seemed like I could only help it by touching it, so I did. I ran my hand across the rough, dry soil. This thing was in desperate need of hydration.

When I lifted the large clay fixture to bring it to the sink, my fingers touched
in a rough spot, where I expected the whole pot to be smooth. Come to find, it
wasn't just any rough spot. It happened to be an engraved message. I turned the
clay structure more toward the window to shed some light on it.

My dear Amaryllis, let this be a reminder to you for the future: Always
bloom, despite the harsh conditions. Love, Mom & Dad

I left the plant in the sink and ventured into the living room. Surely enough, there weren't any pictures of people at all. There certainly weren't any of Amy's, or should I say Amaryllis's, parents. Why have pictures of scenery you saw on a daily basis, but none of your family? What's she got to hide?

Before I could give it any more thought, I heard the water cut off in the bathroom. Shit. The woman had an impeccable sense of timing. I quickly ran the water on the dying plant and shoved it back in its position on the piano.

I felt as suspicious as I was acting after narrowly escaping being caught snooping. I decided I needed to be doing something to keep myself occupied before she flipped out on me. Maybe I should do what she told me to do to begin with.

I walked down the hallway, being very conscious of everything I could possibly break with my large stature. Amy poked her head out of the door after I gingerly knocked, afraid I might break that, too. Her dark hair was nearly black when wet
]and slicked back, with only a few strands hanging in her face. The dark hair accentuated her eyes that I was already fascinated with. Every time I looked into them, it was like looking through light blue glass. They were smooth, without a single flaw.

Naturally, the next thing I looked over was her chest. It was barely concealed by the fluffy orange towel Amy had wrapped around herself. Of course, she was still soaking wet. This was the first time I'd ever found myself flustered by Amy, or anyone. Not only was she incredibly hot, but she was sort of beautiful, too. I wasn't sure if the shower had given her cheeks that extra rosy tint, or she was really blushing on my behalf. The moment of infatuation was over the second she opened her mouth.

I didn't know how long I had been admiring her in the doorway, but it was long enough to annoy her. "Yes?"

I may have been flustered, but my mind seemed to have rebounded quickly. "I kind of need to use that, if you don't mind."

She put the hand that wasn't holding her towel up to her face. "Can't you see I'm busy? Go out back, for Christ's sake!"

She shut the door, and nearly pinched my nose with it. That wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but it couldn't hurt to go before we left the house. God only knows what she had in store for me.

When I opened the squeaky wooden door, Jarvis scurried in. He raced down the hallway to what I assumed to be Amy's bedroom. I didn't pay him any mind. Apparently, both inhabitants of the tiny yellow house liked to hurry around like something had lit their asses on fire. It wasn't a trend I was about to follow.

Amy's back yard was like something one would see in an old movie, complete with a white picket fence, wooden swing, and even a few garden gnomes here and there. If you sat on the swing you had a great view of the tall dunes, and the jetties where I had washed up, which hid most of the beach from sight. I couldn't see the beach, and the beach couldn't see me. Not that I had anything to hide, anyways.

After taking care of myself, and making sure my pants were secured around my waist, I started to head back inside. Only, when I turned around I found myself frozen with surprise mixed with fear. Not moments ago, the fence closest to the road hadn't been anything more than an inanimate object. Now it was being occupied by two of the largest pelicans I had ever seen. I watched as two became three, and three became four. I was stunned in place as bird after bird perched itself on Amy's fence. They made no sound, other than their brown-white wings flapping noisily as they landed. They weren't afraid of me the way they should've been. I think that's what startled me the most.

When one cocked it's head sideways, I could see its beady eyes watching me. I wasn't an expert on pelican expression, but I deemed it was time for me to leave before I was bullied by a large bird. I took enormous yet slow steps towards the house, careful not to make any sudden movements. They seemed to still be watching me, even after I had slammed the door behind me.

"Is the Sand Man coming to get you? You look scared shitless."

I whipped around to find Amy, rosy as ever in her lavender robe. I didn't know how to explain to her what had just happened. To say I was at a loss for words was a vast understatement.

"I was peeing...and the birds--"

Amy's blue eyes widened, and her mouth seemed to drop to the floor. "You peed...on my birds?"

You have got to be kidding me. As if this woman could get any more weird. Now, come to find out she keeps gargantuan pelicans as pets.

"Wha-? What makes them your birds?"

"Because I take care of them! It's dinner time. I was just about to go out there. You can have the shower now."

"But they're pelicans! They can take care of themselves!"

A dark look crossed her face. "No, they can't. They need my protection."

"Amy, you can't go mothering wild animals. That's cra-"

"They need me, okay?" she interrupted. "Some dumbass fisherman started killing them off because they eat a lot of fish. If they have a mixed diet of fish and wheat bread, they'll leave the fisheries alone and survive."

I looked at her for a long time. It was obvious she was set in her ways and there was no talking sense into her. "Wheat bread? What's wrong with white bread?"

For reasons unknown to me, she got this ear-to-ear grin on her face. "White bread could give them diabetes after a while."

"Have you named them?"

"Dopey, Grumpy, Happy, Bashful, Sleepy, Sneezy, and Doc."

"That was meant as a joke."

She smiled again. "How else am I supposed to differentiate?"

I stared in wonder again.

Before I could think of anything that made sense, she interrupted me. "Why does everything I do surprise you so much?"

I opened my mouth, ready to tell her all about how normal people didn't just parade strangers around town, or deliberately not answer questions, but I couldn't.

Who was I to dictate what was normal for her? The same way she couldn't understand why the things she didn't weren't normal to me. For all I knew, her parents brought strangers into the house regularly.

I guess she grew impatient, or frustrated. I didn't have to answer her, because she grabbed the bag of whole wheat bread, and was out the door.

I trudged my way to the bathroom, finding that once again she had laid clothes out for me. This time she had chosen a blue and white plaid shirt with khaki shorts. When I got out of the shower, I found the pants to be a little large, but the reflection in the mirror was satisfactory.

I opened the door, hoping to let some cold air in while I finished getting ready. While running the comb through my hair, I caught a glimpse of Amy. She was clinging to the door-frame, and half smirking at me. She had traded her frilly apron for a light blue cotton dress that complimented everything from her eyes to her fair skin.

She giggled at my reflection. "Well don't you clean up nicely."

I playfully grimaced back. "Yeah, I look like I smell: fruity."

She placed her hand over her bare chest, feigning offense. "I must be living
under a rock or something! I thought plaid to be very fashionable!"

I grinned at her with my freshly-brushed teeth. "Pun intended? That's where you
found me, right?"

"Correction, you were among the rocks!"

"Ah, one in the same. Where do you get these clothes anyways?"

I waited several seconds for an answer, but looked to find that she was no
longer in the doorway. We may have gotten along for a few minutes, but she was
still avoiding questions. It could be said that I was making some progress with
her.