The Flower Girl & the Square

(Closed for Little_Zora)

The head that popped up over the cubicle wall was old, steely eyed, and stern. “You still think you will get the Sector 10 groundwater report done before you leave?” the old man asked abruptly.

Sam jumped in his chair. He always jumps in his chair when Mr. Healey sticks his head over the cubicle wall, but Sam jumped a little extra today. “Yessir,” he replied as he quickly minimized a few windows on his screen, “I am proofing it one last time, will have it uploaded in a few minutes.”

The old man let a smile grow on his face, and put his best fatherly image. “Well done son. If it reads as it should, we can release the EN document to start your team working on that.” The old man’s grey suit and plain blue tie seemed a remnant from the dinosaur like days of 1990s business. Especially when compared to Sam’s simple maroon polo and blue jeans; but that is what happens when you enter business 30 years apart.

“Yes sir, I look forward to starting that next week, sir.” Sam only had a moment to say it before the old man’s head was gone, which finally gave him that chance to let out a long calming breath of air. He opened up the report he was supposed to be proofing and went back to reading. He barely had a sentence read and he was interrupted again.

“So … so … whatcha hiding there, Chief?”

The singsong voice of his cubemate made him groan in frustration. “Nothing, Barbie, go back to work.”

A hand swung down onto his keyboard, and before he could swipe it away she flipped the up the explorer screen to show the concert information. “Jesus, is that it?” Barb teased. “I thought you were looking at porn the way you jumped a mile high.”

“Will you shut-up?” Sam hushed as he turned to face the woman.

In the small office space, they sat back-to-back facing their own little desk. The two of them were a team, but they had as much in common as Sam had with their boss who surprised him earlier. They shared some things, both were fresh out of college, both just 24 years old, and both excelled in their studies. Barb, or Barbie as Sam liked to call her when she was being especially annoying, wasn’t far from the doll that gave her her nickname. She was tall, tan, blonde, and had the curves that would make the little plastic Ken excited. Sam wasn’t short, but his little over than five and a half foot frame was shorter than his cube-mate’s (especially when she wore heel which was basically always). Sam’s dark hair, brown eyes, and thin features made him look smaller than her too. Above all else, Sam’s soft spoken, analytical, and (more often than not) introverted personality clashed with the outgoing, outspoken girl. In fact, if Sam had it his way, he would just do his job and make it through the day without a need to discuss or chat about anything other than the work ahead of them. Barbie seemed to need to spend most of her time at work talking about everything BUT work; and that included in no short detail the long list of boys she seemed be either going out with, moving in with, or can’t handle the drama with. Worse than that, if Sam even mentioned a female name, she seemed to want to drag every little detail about his miserable love life from him.

Yet it was nearly company policy at Opportunity Mining LLC to pair such dynamic partners together. Together they formed a team tasked with converting mounds of data from field testing into reports that were not only comprehensible, but dumbed down so a politician could understand it. Sam, being the real engineer, would do the major data crunching, then Barbie would, in her words, “add the glitter, put a bow on it, then smile when they tell me to smile.”

“It’s just a concert poster,”she complained, going along with his want to keep quiet.

“Yeah, but you still don’t need to make a big deal out of it.” Sam returned to the computer and closed the window all together, then pulled his report back open.

Behind him, he could hear her going back to work, but she didn’t stay quiet. “You going to that concert?”

“Maybe,” he said, just to get her to shut up.

“Is that tonight?”

“Yeah,” again, just to get her to shut up.

There was a brief pause from her, and he could hear her working away on her computer. That’s when she asked in a hush, “Are you seriously thinking about going to the Forest Fair?”

He let out a deep sigh, and dropped his head. So much for getting her to shut up. He turned to see she was looking at the same website he was earlier and getting the whole scoop. It was a multi-colored poster done in bright retro colors depicting trees and flowers spread out across a field. It advertised Forest Fair, a three day outdoor concert including multiple stages, food & beer gardens, and camping amongst the forest. It was also a fundraiser for the group whose sole purpose is to shut down the Opportunity Mining LLC -- the same Opportunity Mining LLC that Sam, and Barbie, and Mr. Healy, and everyone in Opportunity Mining LLC get’s their paychecks from.

“No, I’m not going” he nearly whined as he turned away from her screen and back to his.

“You better not. Mr. Healey finds out you are supporting the enemy, he’d have you slopping through the mud collecting samples for the next two months.”

“I’m not going,” he replied a little louder.

“And if they find you out, they’ll string you up by their hemp ropes and feed you mushrooms until you see unicorns coming out of your rectum.”

“I’m Not Going!” Sam nearly shouted it -- maybe not ‘nearly’, more of quietly spoke it at a higher voice level than the usually quiet Sam will ever get caught speaking in the office. “Let me,” he barely said over a whisper, “let me, just, finish this proof and we can go home.”

Barb didn’t say anything … at first. “Sam, can I ask you a question?” She didn’t normally call him Sam, or asked to ask a question.

“What?” he said more calmly than before.

“What was the name of that band that you went to see last month, and then after the show you talked to them, and then made out with their girl drummer after the show?”

Sam groaned, red faced, and dropped his head. “Why do I tell you anything, Barbie?”

“Is it ‘Tralfaz and the Robot’?”

Sam’s disgruntled sigh said all that needed to be said.

“You know they start at seven tonight,” she stated. “You’ll want to get there early so she can see that you’re in the crowd.”

“Come on, we’re late!”

Eva heaved another cardboard box full of flyers into the VW van.

“It’s a good four hour ride to the location, and I don’t want to get stuck between all the after-work tourists that are bound to make an appearance!”

Chloe came walking out of their shared flat balancing two more boxes precariously stacked on top of each other and trying to peek over the topmost one to see where she was going. Her bright red hair was in a messy ponytail, half of her head shaved.

“Mom asked me to take her brochures since she and dad will be hitchhiking.” Chloe rolled her eyes.

Eva laughed.

She had always envied Chloe a little for having such awesome parents. While her own back home had long given up home that their daughter would someday take up what they considered a “normal” life, complete with a husband, a house in the suburbs and possibly a well-earning, respectable job, her flatmate had been going to political protests with her parents since the day she could walk. Her mum and dad owned an anarchist bookshop downtown, ran a local urban gardening collective and were both involved in non-conformist home schooling programmes. Even Chloe felt overwhelmed sometimes.

“Looking good, dear”, Chloe quipped, admiring Eva’s short lace dress that she wore over bright red and black-striped tights. While Eva was certainly a girl to send shivers of fear through any preppy, she was certainly beautiful: a bit taller than Chloe who stood at five and a half feet, slender, with a delicate face adorned by high cheek bones, large dark eyes and a – according to Chloe – very kissable mouth.

Having left her UK home to pursue a degree in anthropology she had met Chloe and her friends, and felt immediately at home. After a brief stint on the West coast they had moved North together, and Eva, still only 24 years old, was now considering to give up on her PhD.

When Chloe finally crawled into the seat next to her she was clutching a colourful flyer announcing the Forest Fair programme.

“Oh damn, this year they have a bloody yoga tent”, she groaned. “Don’t you think that the fair is attracting too many office rats already?” She interlaced her hands in front of her chest and closed her eyes, whispering in a high pitch: “I want to relax, but there are all these scruffy crusties around me and I forgot to bring my hand sanitizer!”

Eva looked at her, grinning. “You didn’t mind when that yuppie couple invited you to their cottage last year, did you?”

Chloe plopped her bare feet onto the dashboard as Eva slowly backed out of the parking lot.

“Well, that was fun.” She raised one eyebrow in mock astonishment of the memory. “I have never seen anyone go this wild on a bit of good weed. I guess even sticklers need to relax somehow.” She sniggered. “I think for him I was a walking and talking Burning Angel fantasy come true. Marrying the investment consultant but wanting to fuck the pierced, wild freak? What a loser.”

Eva smiled. She did not hold the same unyielding views as her flatmate, and for her the Forest Fair was as much about protest as it was about good music, good company, and a few days away from the city. But all in all, Chloe was right. Too often she had to defend her dark long dreads, her piercings to those who found her looks “too extreme”. Too many times did she have to explain that anarchism was not about chaos and destruction, and that civil disobedience was a duty, not a crime.

“I heard that Kazem will be there, too.” Chloe’s tone was almost apologetic. Eva, clutching the steering wheel just a little bit tighter, sighed.

“I’ll be fine. I think the days when I was unable to resist Kazem are well and truly over.” Chloe drummed her fingers on her thigh, but said nothing.

As they hit the main road, a large billboard overhead announced the “hope for good cooperation between Opportunity Mining LLC and the local governorate” with the help of a row of immaculate citizens smiling at white-haired men in suits. Chloe stretched her arm out the window and raised her middle finger in an unmistakable gesture of disapproval.

“Fucking money bags! Look at these bastards grin and shake hands and pretend they are not greedy, evil, soulless monsters.” Eva nodded. “Well, I guess they learn soon enough that the good citizens of this town do not wish to cooperate”, she said in her best how-can-I-help-you call centre voice. “I wish they at least had the guts to attend at least one of the open panels at the fair. Just one, to answer questions concerning that mining project without the help of a PR army between them and us.”

Chloe laughed. “Fuck yes! They would look so much better with some egg on their faces.”

“It’s crazy that they haven’t pulled out yet! It’s clear that the majority in this town doesn’t want that mine here.”

“Not the majority of those with the big bank accounts, sweetie”, Chloe said in a mock British accent. She kept telling Eva that her accent - her father was from London, and her mum from the north of France – still turned her knees to jelly. Chloe and she did have a brief and unsuccessful fling when they had first met in university that had turned into a much more comfortable and close friendship.

“Well, I hope that they are ready for this year’s Forest Fair then!” Eva’s eyes glinted with excitement. “Because it will be epic!”

“So, what is this?” he asked with curiosity, the paper cup warm in his hand.

“It’s Kava Kava, a polynesian tea of different herbs and flowers, kind of like what you have on your shirt” the woman responded.

Sam immediately blushed, thinking it was making fun of what he wore. He had on a soft green button down with light yellow floral print on it. It was what he bought when the company had a ‘Hawaiian Shirt Day’, and was about the only thing he owned that would probably pass for ‘hippie’ in his wardrobe. “And I will still pass a drug test?” he asked again as he swirled the tea watching things float about.

“Yeah baby, it’s all natural from mother earth.”

Sam took a smell of it, and it gave a scent like someone was burning grass clippings. “What’s it supposed to do?”

She leaned in closer to him, the light fragrance of lilac wafted up from neck. “Free your mind baby, free your mind.” She was a slightly older than him, but had blond hair billowing out of a circle of flowers stuck into her hair that seemed to accent her blue eyes.

Sam pursed his lips, took a deep breath, and drained the cup empty in one gulp. It tasted like bitter leaves. No, it just tasted like bitter. His mouth felt immediately allergic, like he had the strange idea to eat poison ivy. It started easing up shortly after swallowing it, and it wasn’t so offensive to that it wouldn’t stay down, but it was still pretty awful. The woman suggested it would help him to relax and was a mild hallucinogen - all he knew was it was legal.

“That will be $20 then,” she said falling back into a very business like tone.

“Twenty?” he rebuked.

She had already turned back to the grill, working on cooking up another other for the next in line. “Six for the grilled cheese, fourteen for the kava kava.”

All Sam wanted was the grilled cheese. Something to chew on so that he could have something in his stomach when the beer starts hitting him. Sure, he only had to go up the campground when he was done, but the night was still young and he didn’t feel like getting stupid drunk. Yet when those blue eyes flashed and offered him a bit of that tea, he faltered. He never heard of Kava Kava before, never thought someone could just feel good legally on tea. He really didn’t want it either.

She turned back to him, her eyes still those bright blue pools. “Twenty?” she asked again.

And he paid her.

He was kicking himself as he walked away from the food stand. It was that way all the time, really. Sam’s closet was half full of ugly shirts he hated, but some lady at a store suggested he looked good in it. He never got a good haircut, because his stylist was too cute for him to complain. Heck, the whole reason he got into engineering was that his lab partner at school was one too. It’s some weirdness to his own awkward nature that says that a girl will only sleep with him if he completely agrees with what they ask of him. But that never works. He just walks away with the ugly shirt, the bad haircut, the engineering degree, and even the grilled cheese alone.

Yeah, he was that pathetic. He never really had a girl friend, not that he could claim as one at least. He wasn’t a virgin, thank the heavens. All it took was “Six Minutes in Heaven” with a Margo Tate, the second chair clarinetist, at a party to take care of that -- actually he only needed two and a half minutes to take care of that. Then there was the girl at his cousin’s wedding who got really drunk and suggested they wouldn’t get caught in the garage - she was right, and they were able to sneak in two times -- well, she was technically passed out for most of the second but he still counted it. So he wasn’t all that pathetic.

Besides, he was there at this concert because he made out with the drummer of “Tralfaz and the Robot”. With luck she will see him, and they will hook up later, and then things can happen again.

Just as he said that he lightly bumped into someone, no sooner than he did a pile of flyers fell out of a box onto the ground.

“Way to go asshole,” a woman blurted as she dropped down to the ground and started to collect the papers.

He dropped down with her, a red headed woman with her head half shaved, to help her as they stopped some of the flyers from flying off. He shook his head “Sorry sorry, I … I didn’t mean to ..”

A second woman dropped down to help collect the flyers who seemed to be with the redhead.

Sam looked up at her; he long dark dreadlocks, her delicate face, and her soft lips.

That’s when it felt like the the Kava Kava had freed his mind.

„No worries“, Eva said cheerfully. „And don’t mind Chloe, she is this grumpy most of the time.”

Kneeling down beside him, she started to collect the scattered pieces of paper.

“Too much Kava Kava maybe”, she added, sniffing the cup he was still awkwardly trying to hold while picking up the flyers. “Jeez, I really hate that stuff.” She looked up at the young man, crinkling her nose. “Do you like it? They mostly sell it to tourists, you know, at a ridiculous price.”

Noticing that he seemed to blush, Eva laughed. “So, is this your first time at the Forest Fair then?” She considered him for a moment. Past his awful shirt he was not only cute, but really attractive – in a quirky, somewhat unconventional way. Eva’s smile widened. His blush was irresistible. “No worries. I am sure you’ll love it here.”

Chloe scoffed, but decided to leave the stage to her less judgmental flatmate. It was so painfully obvious that the guy who had just run into them – quite literally – was at the Fair for the first time that she did not need to wait for his answer to feel vindicated in her mockery: he was a tourist, probably here for the yoga, or the pierced chicks, or both.

Eva picked up the last flyer. “Hey, if you want to drink something a little less gross, you should come by later.”

She pulled a pen from the tote bag over her shoulder and scribbled a phone number onto the piece of paper. “Dun hst to cll”, Eva mumbled, the lid between her lips. She extended the flyer to him and smiled, and put her pen away. “Sorry. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need any…advise on tea.” Chloe, still unpacking the van behind her, rolled her eyes. “Seriously, you should come by later. We’ll be right over there.” Eva pointed to a stand adorned with two red-and-black flags. “Molotov’s bookshelf”, she added helpfully. “Maybe I can give you a few pointers.”

Chloe, who decided that she now had enough of her friend’s charitable efforts to help lost squares, and worse, flirt with them, handed Eva a box. “That needs to go over to the vegans, they have called me four times already asking where we were.”

“Fine.”

But before Eva left, she turned to him again. “I’m Eva, by the way. And you are…?”

She was cute. Like really cute.

Not the bitchy one. The one with the accent. The one that was being nice to Sam. At first she was too cute to talk to, at least not the kind of cute Sam would talk to.

When he started to apologize again the nice one brushed it off, and her voice like a sexy silk made his tongue loosen encouraging to say something to get to know her better.

Then the bitchy one noted the Kava Kava breath, and he shut up again. Then they figured him for being new. God help him if they figure out who he worked for. Afraid to let the Kava Kava blurt out that part, he pressed his lips together, nodded his head, and generally felt like he looked like an idiot as the two talked.

Something, though, warmed in him. She was giving him her number, and that just doesn’t happen … like ever. He took the paper starting at it, his mind shifting the comprehension of seeing a number and knowing that he was going to call it sometime. Sometime tonight even. His eye followed to her stand, the book stand, right next to Max’s Organic Veg Seeds.

As the bitchy one pushed the box towards the cute one, he could see they were separating. He wondered if he needed to go back to the stage and leave. Still staring at the seed stand, he realized she was asking a question before he could stop fixating on it.

“Max,” he replied. “I MEAN … Sam. It’s Sam … my name.”

Turning back to her, seeing the box of flyers in her arms, he jumped wided eyed. “Here, let me help with that.” He took the box from her without even letting her answer, trying his hardest to not let the thing slip from his fingers and embarrass himself worse in front of this cute girl.

“Eva. Nice to meet you, do you own the bookstore? Is that yours?” he asked ready to follow her. Almost ready to follow her anywhere.

Chloe scoffed. “Oh, a gentleman.”

The way she stressed the word left no doubt what she thought about Sam’s gesture, trying to be helpful.

Eva laughed, knowing exactly what Chloe was thinking. None of the men at the anarchist bookshop would have grabbed the box from neither her nor Chloe, fully in accord about domineering males trying to make their female counterparts look weaker and more helpless than they were.

But it was adorable when Sam did it. “Thanks”, she smiled at him. “Sam.”

Eva shrugged, and picked up another box from the floor and started walking with him.

“No, it’s actually Chloe’s parents that own the shop, and Forest Fair has become sort of a staple event for them, so…they bring the shop here. I just help out…” she put the box down onto the still empty polished wooden surface of the counter. “They’re really awesome, her parents.” She freed some space for him to deposit the box. “Real activists, you know?” She peeked over the counter. “I think they’re still on the way.”

It was then that a young man who had been crouching behind stood up, smiling at her.

He was tall and dark and ridiculously handsome, with high cheekbones, an aquiline nose and beautiful dark eyes adorned by thick lashes. He was wearing jeans and a T-Shirt with Arabic script, looking like an activist token from elsewhere.

Eva had to will herself to look unfazed.

“Hi Kazem”, she said, her voice almost too flat to be convincing. Chloe, pretending to be busy in one corner of the stand, snorted.

“Hi ladies”, he replied. “Nice to see you again.”

The last statement was only for Eva.

“So you’re back from Beirut.”

“Just got in yesterday. Didn’t want to miss the fair, and the mine issue now seems to demand our full attention.” He opened the box that Eva had put down and pulled out some flyers. “Hey, these look good. Nice work, Chloe.”

Chloe raised one thumb without looking up from unpacking her box. “Hope you brought back some inspiration with you, sir”, she said, frowning at a small leaflet detailing the hazards the mine would bring to their city. “Little pretty pieces of paper might not cut it this time.”

He laughed, and Eva was annoyed that this alone turned her knees to jelly again, mostly because she was sure that he knew. Only a few months prior she had thought that Kazem was all that she had ever wished for – smart, creative, a fearless activist, an aspiring human rights lawyer and yes – sometimes she was shallow like that – beautiful and an amazing lover. But open relationships – Kazem called it being “polyamourous” – had just not been her thing, no matter how much she had wanted them to be. It was the one sore point for her, the decidedly un-libertarian romantic.
“So who’s your friend?” That mocking half-smile again.

Eva, as if suddenly remembering something, turned to Sam.

“Sam, meet Kazem.” There was a brief pause, as Kazem looked at Sam with only very little interest. “Kazem, meet Sam.”

From the moment he saw him, Sam hated Kazem. Seriously hated him. That good looking kind of guy that gets any girl he wants, but has this nice personality probably too that gets them too. Just the perfect perfect perfect … perfect … get the girl … perfect … perfect. I’m telling you, Sam HATED this guy.

“Nice to meet you Kazem,” Sam replied all the while thinking deep down ‘die die die’ .

Looking at the guy, then to Eva, then back at the guy he could feel something there. Something the bastard probably did to her, or … worse … was going to do to her.

“What is a name like Kazem … sounds like something out of a comic book.” It came out of his mouth before he even thought it. Sure, it may sound like he was just being curious, but that sounded nothing like Sam had done before.

Yet before he had long enough to react, his mouth started speaking again for him. “What is it you are trying to do anyway?” he said grabbing one of the leaflets. “Oh … Opportunity Mine. Always found that name a little presumptuous. I mean, it’s not like the mine is an opportunity, what ever is there is there whether you mine it or not. Should be more like Seizing the Opportunity Mine, or Taking the Stuff When We Have an Opportunity Mine, …. or just It’s Mine Not Your Mine.” He gave out a quick laugh, “Heh … or Mine Mine. Mine, All Mine, Not Yours Mine Mine.”

He started laughing a bit again, then burped a little bit of grass taste up to his mouth.

That’s when he figured some things out and looked down sheepishly. “Sorry, I had some Kava Kava.” When he looked up, his eyes went right to Eva, a little bit of a smile on his face, and deep down hoping she’d just not hate him for talking like an idiot.

“What is a name like Kazem … sounds like something out of a comic book.”

For a moment, all three of them froze in their movements, looking at Sam.

Chloe reacted first, her voice like ice. “Pardon me?” Eva knew this voice very well. Sam, however, was clearly oblivious to the torrent of anger he was about to unleash.

“It’s Arabic.” Kazem’s voice hinted at both threat and ridicule as he looked directly at Sam, one eyebrow raised, unsmiling.

Eva, unsure if Sam had been joking, frowned. But more than anything, she felt the need to shield him against Kazem, who had put down the flyers and was waiting for Sam to follow up on his rather clumsy remark. He was not a violent person, at least not in this way, but he would be able to dismantle the newbie verbally in just a few words, and Eva did not want Sam to have his first Forest Fair spoiled that way.

She was sure that he had not wanted to be rude, that he actually did not know. Then again…

But the slightly forlorn, dizzy expression that the Kava Kava had undoubtedly etched on Sam’s face, forced her to smile again. Who was this guy? And when he continued to speak, almost involuntarily downloading a whole series of wordplays on the Opportunity mine, Eva could not help but laugh.

“Yeah, I like that!” She snatched the flyer from Sam’s hand and nodded. “I think that’s a good idea. We should do something with that!”

Chloe rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her boxes, while Kazem curiously watched the interaction between Eva and her foundling friend. There was something in the way he made her laugh – a carefree, happy gesture – that almost made him a little jealous.

“Yes, well, maybe Sam here could take his idea to the potato stamp printing stand and put them on T-Shirts?”

Eva gave him a warning look, but said nothing. Instead she grabbed Sam’s arm and asked him: “How about I’ll show you around and introduce you to some of our friends? Chloe and Kazem are busy anyway.”

There was an awkwardness around him, that Sam barely registered. His nature still allowed it to break through the Kava fueled fuzziness, realizing that in some portion of his mind he said some things he should regret. Should, being the key word.

When Eva took a hold of his arm, that bit of regret took a quick holiday. Her touch tingled through his skin like electricity. His whole body rushed with heat as he felt every drop of blood in his body run to his face, allowing his blush to accent any and all freckling along his skin accenting his boyish appearance. He chewed on his lip, looked up at her soft eyes, and agreed to be shown around. In that moment, he would have agreed to kill the pope if she asked.

They started walking away from Chloe and Kazem, and movement let him calm some. “Thanks … for this,” he started, “showing me around, I mean. I was just going to listen to music, but that probably isn’t getting my money’s worth.”

A small crowd near some of the music stood in their way, and as the started to maneuver around them he reached for her hand and naturally took a hold of it like they were more than just met strangers.

“I’m not usually like this,” he continued nearly babbling as he spoke. “I don’t talk to people like I did back there, just saying stuff and stuff. Especially pretty girls. Especially really pretty girls like you.”

In that moment a gurgle of a grassy taste came up his throat. “It’s the Kava Kava that makes me a jerk, isn’t it?”