Marigold Flowers and the Perfume Counter

The day I paid attention to the marigold posters at the perfume counters, is the day I realized I was in love. I sniffed Carolina Herrera scent and wondered if he would sit with me on the couch during the day party this Saturday in NYC. I would cross my legs in my denim midi open front skirt, that hung above my ankles. I would wear a open cleavage button less silk blouse, with lengthy arms and wide cuffs, that hung under my fingertips and into my palms. I would block out all the noise and would pretend I was rich in knowledge, while basically speaking on the irrelevant. We would enjoy hot apple cider drinks, while lounging on a purple velour couch, with orange velour triangles and yellow circles. I would sway to the side, with one foot on the dusty, cement ground. He would slide his velour loafer across the cement and fix his fedora hat. Our gestures would indicate limitations and we knew as soon as we made it home, we would hide our flaws. I would clean my room and seal my lipsticks and mascara’s. He would make his bed and find his remote control.

I imagine the day party would have a marigold wall with marigold pictures in glass frames. Tons of people would stand and discuss the artist contours, strokes, and framing. People would engage in wine drinking. The girls would be dressed in boyfriend jeans and oversized ribbed sweaters and fedora hats with bright red lipsticks. Some would have flawless, dark, Nubian skin and african braids, two tone color with honey blonde and brown mixtures. She would have shades of bronze gold eyeshadows and bronze thick lipstick, oversized Nubian earrings, and a medallion necklace. She too would engage in wearing the trendy boyfriend jeans, but instead would dress them with a multi color crochet, sleeveless crop top and some expensive reptile clogs. She would pass on the hookah, but her date would indulge.

After I smelled the Carolina Herrera scent once more, I walked towards the exit and admired the shifting marigold billboard. Suddenly, I fell back into a daydream about the day party. A breeze came over me from the open patio doors. The sky was dark and cold. Stars filled the sky and I knew we would fall in deep love before the night ended. I swayed to the side as we leaned on the patio gate. Although we did not want the night to end, the sun was rising and we needed to return to our homes. On the way to the train station, I stepped near a community garden and picked a marigold flower nearby. I placed the marigold flower on his fedora hat. He kissed me on the cheek and said goodbye. We promised to visit each other again soon. I watched as he caught his train to New Jersey. After his departure a happy tear fell from my eye. I mean happy as in overjoyed for a new beginning. I slept most of the way home on the train. When my train arrived at my stop, I went downstairs to my favorite bodega to open up with my uncle. I stocked the milk cooler and the soda cooler. I organized the lottery tickets, the hubba bubba, potato chips and candy bars. I mopped the floor and cleaned the deli tables. I grabbed some scrambled eggs and french toast. Suddenly, the doors opened and the breakfast rush began. I watched the deli cook brown bacon for the breakfast customers. I stepped out of the bodega and made it home to my apartment. When I arrived, a bouquet of marigold flowers with a thank you letter from my friend was waiting.