Forget Me Not

by Julie Soto

I wonder if she’ll look up The Language of Flowers and figure out I just told her, You are immature and I resent you. Go away.

“Maybe someone could talk me into a flower.” Her voice is low. Vowels round and slow. “You already are a flower.” I regret it the second it’s out of my mouth. It’s not smooth. It’s not sexy.

“In mythology, Amaryllis fell in love with a—with a man who loved flowers…”

“What’s an amaryllis look like?” Hazel says, turning to where Elliot pointed out the calla lilies. “I don’t keep them in the shop anymore.”

“I don’t give a fuck who it is. I want you to look debauched when I’m debauching you.”

“B-because I want to know you. I want to know what you like, what you hate—even if it’s me.” I start pressing a second finger inside slowly. “Fuck fuck fuck—I want to love what you love, even if it’s extinct.”

You may think everything ends one day, but you haven’t had ‘everything’ with me.”

“That’s not how it works,” he says. “There is no falling out of love for people like you and me.”

“Sometimes you just count down the days, the hours, until you can be useful again,” he says. “And if it ever ends, Jackie?” He lowers his voice. “You’re still counting away. The months since. The exact days since. Like a tally of moments you’ve spent not being important to them. But don’t ever think you’ll wake up and not be in love with her.”

“It’s…It was never about extinction. The tattoos…” He blows out his air. “They’re ones that I—that I can’t have. Ones that can’t be used in arrangements, can’t be kept in the shop.” He looks up to me. “Ones that are likely to disappear before I can love them.”