Monty, lower: “Thank you for using our Touchless Delivery Service.”
Kate, upper: “As if I had any choice. This wretched caramba-virus has made a mess of things.”
Monty: “It’s corona.”
Kate: “What! I didn’t order any beer. How absurd. I have never stooped to such levels of depravity and coarseness.”
Monty: “No, I meant that the virus is a-”
Kate: “Don’t interrupt me, young man. I’m your elder. This means you must politely listen to everything I have to say until I die. That’s how we do it in the South.”
Monty: “Actually, I’m on a rather tight schedule. So, if we could just complete this transaction, I would really appreciate it.”
Kate: “The nerve! Fine. Just toss the box up here and flee.”
Monty: “I don’t think I that’s a good idea. Can I just leave it on this odd wrought-iron table that looks like something a vampire would buy in an Anne Rice novel?”
Kate: “What, are you worried that I can’t catch it? I may be old, but trust me, I can catch a case of gin in my sleep and never spill a drop.”
Monty: “Oh. Well, there might be some confusion. This isn’t a case of gin.”
Kate: “It’s not gin! Then why are you here? Clearly, you don’t know who I am and that I have a standing order for a case of gin every week. Twice a week during the summer, because it’s so damn hot in New Orleans and there’s only so much jazz one can take. I insist on speaking to your supervisor.”
Monty: “I am the supervisor. I own this company.”
Kate: “No, you don’t. You don’t look like Beauregard.”
Monty: “I don’t know who or what that is.”
Kate: “Beauregard Banger. Owner of Banger’s Booze Barn on Bourbon Street. Granted, I’ve only seen him when I’m a tiny bit lit, but his face isn’t yours.”
Monty: “Let me try another angle. I don’t have booze. Of any kind. You placed an order on my website for a glass flower and I’m here to provide you with that item. That’s why I didn’t want to hurl it up toward your ass because it might break. But now I think I’m just going to leave and call it a loss.”
Kate: “Wait! That rings a faint bell. I might have done that. But I’m not signing anything just yet. What is this flower?”
Monty: “A purple rose.”
Kate, sighing, eyes becoming distant: “Oh no. I’ve opened the cedar chest again. And I thought I had that lid on tight.”
Monty: “I’m not sure what that means, but it sounds personal, and I’ll be going now. You have a good day.”
Kate: “No! Not yet. Why did you deliver this personally? I mean, you own the business. Surely you have staff.”
Monty: “I don’t know. I noticed the order when I was updating the records and it intrigued me. We don’t sell many of those. I’ve loved purple roses since I was a child. I don’t remember why, but I had them added to the inventory.”
Kate, studying Monty with now-focused eyes: “I see. So, tell me, bringer of flowers, where you come from. Tell me about your past.”
Monty: “Ma’am, with all due respect, I really am on a schedule. There are other deliveries and-”
Kate: “Please. Let’s just talk for a minute.”
Monty, pausing, not wanting to, but then, maybe so: “I don’t really have family. I mean, I do now. But not before. Before is… tiny echoes. And purple flowers.”
Kate, almost whispering: “Foster care?”
Monty, whispery as well: “Actually… yes.”
Kate, voice stronger: “In Baton Rouge?”
Monty, still whispery: “How did you know?”
Kate: “Stay right there. I’m coming down. Just as soon as I figure out which button to push on this wretched elevator. I rarely go to the ground floor, so give me a minute.”
Monty: “I don’t understand.”
Kate: “Sons often don’t understand their mothers. Especially when it comes to hard choices.”
Monty, processing, guessing, hoping, but cautious: “I still don’t have any gin.”
Kate: “I don’t think I’m going to need it anymore. Just don’t leave.”
The memories in the gears of the elevator unlocked.
And the purple rose was waiting on the Anne Rice table when Kate arrived.
Categories: The Stories
Bonnywood Manor 
But of course, being touchless delivery under lockdown restrictions, Monty was long gone. (After wiping the door down with his Purell sanitizer, of course…)
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You have a very valid point. And I purposely scribbled an open ending to accommodate a number of denouements. Or continuations. We’ll see…
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I probably shouldn’t admit it, but this makes me sad.
It just might be possible that we will never recover from
social distancing…some days that doesn’t seem so bad,
but at 5 a.m. on a rainy early morning, it just feels awful.
That said, it was most masterfully written.
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Oh my. I didn’t want to make anyone sad with this post, hoping that it felt redemptive. But I do understand your concerns. As poets and word wranglers, it’s in our nature to often react more strongly than others do, a blessing and a curse, rock and a hard place. We may never recover, fully, but we can adjust. And that also makes us writers…
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I like your uplifting perspective. Thank you!!!
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Do you suppose Bangers Booze Barn delivers to Maine?
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I have it on good authority that they do. There’s a minor clause in their mission statement that you must be a fan of Stephen King before they agree to dispatch a truck, but I’m sure you can work your way around that…. 😉
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I’m from Maine, I can easily fake that.
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Awww… stabbed in the feels…before coffee too😢 I wonder if I can get a delivery at the ungodly hour of 5:45am of some “Irish” for my coffee??🤔
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Just click your heels together three times and mutter “there’s no better place than being at home with Irish clouds in my coffee”…
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Aha Katherine Hepburn in ANYTHING…one of my all time faves…and of course Monty with or without gin. Perfect way to start the day. Thanks, Brian.
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I have a feeling that we land on the same page about a lot of things… 😉
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Well crafted piece that really doesn’t need the recent unpleasantness to work.
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I’m not quite sure what you mean by that…
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Just saying that the conversation is timeless and that’s a strength in writing.
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Too bad this wasn’t Cairo instead of New Orleans. I would’ve preferred to see Woody Allen deliver the Purple Rose (actually, I would’ve preferred to deliver a better comment, but deliverers can’t be choosers).
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Oh, you get bonus points for referencing “The Purple Rose of Cairo”. (I almost changed the color of the rose so it didn’t feel like a cheat, swear.) It’s all good…
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I know the Queen of Exquisite Bone Structure – but especially cheekbones is long dead, but Monte? Well now I actually figured out WHO “Monty” IS, he’s long gone from the virus-o-sphere too, isn’t he? I spent a truly unseemly amount of time trying to find the python…. (drum riff) 😆
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I know the Queen of Exquisite Bone Structure – but especially cheekbones is long dead, but Monte? Well now I actually figured out WHO “Monty” IS, he’s long gone from the virus-o-sphere too, isn’t he? I spent a truly unseemly amount of time trying to find the python among the purple roses…. (drum riff) 😆
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I love the way your mind works. Mainly because it works just like mine… 😉
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What a glorious and satisfying ending!
That movie was so odd and yet wonderfully acted. I wonder if anyone has considered doing a remake of it?
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I completely agree. It was a very strange movie for its time, but the acting and directing and production (with a wee quibble about the final scenes) was extraordinarily progressive. Kudos to everyone involved. And I think I would love to see a remake but, at the same time, I don’t know if the impact could be the same…
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I like your reply to my comment, but “Like” still doesn’t like me, no matter how many times I click it. It’s almost enough to make me write this in purple prose.
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I’m SO done with the “Like” functionality being erratic on this blog. I don’t know how to make the madness stop. But I do know that I will happily join you in a collaboration of purple protest prose… 😉
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That is one great post. 🙂
https://parrotinpink.com/
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Thank you!
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