The Day the Flowers Died by Ami Blackwelder

over her.  After all this time, she still yearned for
her mother’s approval, despite the impossibility of ever obtaining
it.  Eli walked in behind Rebecca, his hand on her shoulder to
soothe the tensions he felt boiling inside of her.
    Gliding to her mother sitting on the left side of the long
table, Rebecca kissed her mother’s cheeks, signifying her
gratefulness at the reception. Rebecca’s golden brown silk gown,
which wrapped around her waist and draped over her ankles,
contrasted her mother’s beige white lace gown.  Her mother had
called to tell her what she would be wearing so Rebecca could find
something suitable.
    Rebecca couldn’t bear to have her mother’s disapproving glare
aimed at her throughout Christmas dinner because of any untamed
manners. Her greeting, garb, dining, cordial conversation and
salutation for the night would all be without reproach. 
Rebecca had escaped the clutches of her mother’s cultural
refinement when she immigrated to Munich. However, her strict
upbringing, enforced primarily by her mother, remained with
her.
    The freedom Munich gave her allowed her to fill her apartment
with too many flowers, to leave her laundry sometimes unattended
for a few days, and to charcoal dinners in her attempts to learn
how to cook.  This achieved freedom remained concealed to keep
it from seeping out of her and spoiling the night, a night she
hoped would belong to Eli and his impressive accomplishments.
    Eli unwrapped his beige trench coat from his body and draped it
over his left arm while waiting for instruction on where to leave
it.  The butler, appareled in black and white and who had held
the door for them upon arriving, scurried to Eli’s side, took the
coat and carried it away.
    Rebecca’s father sat on the right end of the elongated table
positioned horizontally to the dining hall entrance; her mother sat
at the opposite end.  Eli addressed Rebecca’s father with an
outstretched hand. Her father shook it, his sharp blue eyes
reminding Eli of Rebecca’s, and he unconsciously smiled.
    “I’m Ralph Baum, Rebecca’s father.”
    “Eli Levin.”
    With the last name, Deseire swallowed hard on her appetizer of
ham.
    “And this,” he pointed across the table, “is my dear wife,
Rebecca’s mother, Deseire.  We call her Dessie.  Please,
have a seat.”
    Eli sat closest to the door where he first entered. Rebecca kept
her eyes locked on his to give him support and herself comfort as
she took the seat across from him.  Genuine silverware
bordered each placemat and crystal stemware sparkled at the top.
Eli straightened his dark beige slacks which matched his jacket.
Rebecca especially picked out his tie because of the hint of gold
infused into its fabric which she knew would compliment her gown
and the garb of her parents.
    Her father wrestled with his brown suit jacket, and then waved
with his fingers to the butler for help while he struggled to take
it off his arms.  Over the years, Ralph had gained a few extra
pounds which harbored in his upper body, stomach and arms. 
The butler helped wrestle the brown jacket off of him and carried
it away in a quickened pace.
    Deseire glanced at Eli with a polite smile and sharp hazel eyes,
reminding him of someone at the meat market picking out
steaks.  Servants carried the food out on silver platters with
Ralph’s company name engraved along the sides.
    Three servants, also in black and white, held the plates high in
their hands.  Two males and one female with brown hair tied
into a bun set the platters and plates around the table without
much sound and then became invisible again, disappearing through
the door behind Deseire.
    Roasted duck sat at Rebecca’s end and honey roasted ham at
Eli’s.  Boiled potatoes and peas decorated Ralph’s side of the
table and cranberry sauce, sauerkraut and corn sat near
Deseire.  Rebecca lifted her fingers to snitch a piece of
duck, but pulled away at her mother’s glare burning into