When Flowers Grow

She slapped him. She kicked him. She punched him in the face. She squeezed the blood away from his shoulders, her face dripping with warm tears. "Why?" she pleaded. 'Why, you?"

Well… that's what she wanted to do. She opted for a more socially acceptable (and less criminal) option.

"I'm good. What about you?"

"You're always 'good,' Ellie. How are you really?"

She smirked. There was no way she'd tell him the truth. "Well, Spencer, I'd be better if you'd shave your disgusting face."

Spencer seemed satisfied with her remark. "See? Now I know you're good."

"How little he knows," she thought, as she plopped her bags down on the table. She chose the seat next to Spencer to await the time clock. The seat to her right was occupied by another co-worker, James, whose presence she hadn't noticed nor acknowledged. She bit the inside of her lip. She would have to make a more conscious effort to give each male at work an equal amount of attention. No one needed to figure it out.

"Hey, James."

"Hey, Penelope. How was New York?"

"It was… New York," she laughed. "I don't really know what you want to hear about."

The voice to her left spoke up. "How many plays did you waste your money on this time?"

"I didn't waste my money on any of them, Sir Spencer." She took her hat and prepared to swat him with it, but he grabbed it before it could reach his arm.

"Epic fail, Ellie."

"Since when did you start talking like a thirteen-year-old girl?" she said, sticking the ridiculous hat back on her head. "Anyway, I spent my well-earned money on four shows this time around, and it was completely worth it. Especially Les Miz."

"What is Les Miz?" asked James, the man who Penelope had momentarily forgotten existed.

"Les Miserables. It's a completely sung-through musical, and it's one of my favorites of all time. I've now seen it three times, but this time was the best."

"What made this one better? Isn't it the same show?"

"That's the beauty of live theater, James. You never really see the same show twice. The audience changes, the actors, sets, and blocking can all change. And I think I understood it on a different level than before."

"Why's that?"

"I identified with one of the main characters. Just because of stuff that's been going on recently in my life."

"Interesting."

"What stuff?" said Spencer, suddenly more interested in the conversation than before.

several people walking across the break room. "Oh," she said, relieved, "we should probably clock in."

Spencer jumped up. "It's seven-thirty already?!"

Penelope watched him rush over to the time clock. It was pointless, really, because there was already a line of fifteen people ready to begin their morning shift at the Magical Land of Henry Blacksmith. She decided not join in right away. She would sit and wait, which saved her from the claustrophobia. It also allowed her a moment to come up with something to say, should Spencer ever press than unanswered question. She didn't think he ever would. If Spencer Casella had a flaw, it was his lack of memory. It wasn't a huge issue. She was willing to deal with it.

And that terrified her.

The truth was: she hadn't enjoyed her week in New York at all. The plays were nice, but her mind was always on him. Spencer. More specifically, what she had just realized about him. A tear formed in her right eye as she recalled those words she wrote in her journal just two weeks prior. Words she had repressed for months but had been suspecting for months before that:

I'm in love with him. I love Spencer Austin Casella. I love him. And I hate it.

She had hoped that the admission would make things easier on her- like a load would be lifted off her chest, the air would be cleared, and that would suddenly make everything alright. That's what was supposed to happen, right? She thought that being honest with herself would make some of the pain go away.

That didn't happen.

It actually had the opposite effect. Now it was there. Right there- in black and white. She couldn't hide from it anymore. That certainly didn't make her feel any better. The dull ache was now a sharp sting.

Penelope had always imagined falling in love to be a process that would take years to happen and even longer to realize. Her experience had taken no time at all. It was not love-at-first-sight; oddly enough, she couldn't even remember the first time they met. Regardless of how their friendship started, a few conversations, some banter, and a couple of weeks was all it took for her to know that Spencer was the most perfect man she had ever met in her entire life. "Falling" in love didn't mean anything to her. It was more like… she had fallen long ago. As she and Spencer grew closer, she discovered why.

"Alright team! Head out there, and have a great day! Um, Penelope, hang back here for a minute. I need to ask you something."

Oh great. Was it because she hadn't been paying attention to the shift meeting? It wasn't her fault! She blamed the guy with the deep, brown eyes and the goofy, heart-melting grin. It was his fault.

Speaking of the devil, Penelope heard him make some remark about how she was about to be fired before giving her a high-five and following everyone else out the door. She watched them leave as she leaned against the wall with her arms folded.

The leader for the morning shift, Bradley, approached her.

"Hey, Penelope. Don't worry, you're not in trouble or anything…"

"Oh," she said, dropping her arms.

"Although I did notice your attention was elsewhere during the meeting," he added with a grin.

Paranoia kicked in. Did Bradley mean that in a general way, or was he trying to suggest something? Did she stare at Spencer for the entire meeting? Did Bradley notice? Did the team notice? Did… he notice?

"Yeah," she shrugged. "I have a lot on my mind."

Bradley nodded. Whatever it was she was trying to portray, he bought it.

"Fair enough. Listen, Becky is scheduled to train tomorrow, but she can't make it. Can you train tomorrow instead of working your regular shift?"

"Sure, not a problem. Who am I training?"

"She's a new hire named Clara Cunningham. Thanks so much. You're the best."

She gave a polite half-smile and excused herself out the door.

Penelope squealed as she hung up the phone. This was the happiest she'd felt in about two weeks.

"What happened? Who was that?" asked Amy, her best friend and roommate.

"That was one of the directors. I got a call back for the talent show!"

"Holy crap, that's awesome! I am not at all surprised. I told you it would happen!"

"I know you did, but I was still worried. My voice hasn't been completely up to par since my cold, and I can barely sing that song anymore without crying."

"Keep stirring, or it won't come out right," Amy said, referring to the pot of risotto of which Penelope was in charge. "So which song did you decide on?"

"'On My Own' from Les Miserables. Kinda cliche, I know, but I really like it. And you can do a lot with it acting-wise."

Amy was silent. Penelope knew why. Ask me, Amy. You know you want to. I really need to talk to another human being about this.

"So… you crying during this song… would it have anything to do with why you were sobbing when we saw Les Miz in New York?"

"It may," she said, continuing to stir.

Amy didn't respond.

Penelope wasn't going to say anything either. Writing it in her journal was difficult enough. Amy would just have to figure it out on her own, which she assumed would be an easy task. Amy had been sitting next to her during the play. She'd probably heard everything…

"I like the way you grow your hair."

"I like the way you always tease."

That was the first sniffle. Penelope had never noticed that little exchange before- Eponine trying to give Marius a compliment and it going completely over his head. In that moment, she knew this performance would be different.

"Little he knows.

Little he sees."

She did her best to keep it together as Eponine sang, but the tears flowed anyway. They continued all the way into intermission.

As soon as the curtain went down, Amy asked her if she was ok.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Everything is just so great! The actors playing Marius and Eponine are giving really emotional performances tonight, don't you think?"

"Yes. Very emotional," Amy replied. She didn't look convinced, but she didn't press the issue any further.

Penelope was grateful for Amy's dismissal of the subject that night, but now it was time to talk about it. She couldn't be the one to bring it up, though. Amy must have sensed this because she broke the silence.

"You're in love with Spencer, aren't you?"

Every bone in her body told her to brush it off, to deny it, to make a stupid joke. She looked down to make it easier on herself. She didn't expect Amy to put it so bluntly.

"Is it obvious?"

"Not blatantly. But when I think about Les Miz, it all makes sense. I noticed when you started crying. You practically wailed when Eponine sang "On My Own," and don't even get me started on her death scene."

"And all of that told you that I'm in… I mean, what you figured out?"

"It told me you are feeling very Eponine-ish, which is usually a case of unrequited love- or at least perceived unrequited love. I suppose it didn't have to be Spencer necessarily, but- oh, come on! Who else would it have been? You glow when he's around."

Penelope made a mental note to stop glowing (whatever that meant) when he was around. No need for anyone else to know.

"What are you going to do about it?" Amy asked, adding another ladle of stock to the pot.

"What?"

"You've got to do something. You weren't planning on living in silent pain your whole life, were you?"

"There's nothing I can do. He's the epitome of perfection, and I'm… not. He doesn't feel the same way. At least, I have no reason to believe he does.

"Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. I'm just going to point out one thing: there's only one person in the entire world who calls you 'Ellie.'"

Penelope couldn't contain a grin as she shook her head at her friend. She was preparing a retort when her phone buzzed from the countertop, signaling a text message. She glanced at the screen to see who it was from.

"Speak of the devil. You can read it; I'll keep stirring."

"Weird. It's like he can sense when we're talking about him," Amy said, picking up the phone and reading the message. "He has a closing shift tomorrow and wants to know if you're closing, too."

"Ugh… tell him no. I was scheduled to close, but Bradley asked me to take Becky's training shift, which means we'll be there bright and early."

"That's cool," said Amy, typing the response, "that you get to train, I mean. Not the waking up early part."

"Seriously. I've had an opening shift every single day for the past month, minus our New York trip. Thank goodness I have a closing shift on Saturday. I feel like one more early shift would kill me."

"Well, looks like you're going to have to open next Friday. That night is callbacks, right?"

"Yes!" said Penelope. She found it amazing how quickly that little reminder could change her mood.

"I'll finish the risotto. You, chica, need to go practice!"

Penelope followed Clara into the break room, both laughing hysterically.

"Clara, you're going to fit right in with our work family."

"Thank you!" Clara said, her blond waves bouncing with delight.

They both took a seat at the small table in the break room.

"Now, before we take our lunch, I need to give you a mid-day review. It shouldn't take too long because you're doing awesome."

It wasn't a lie. Clara had picked up each task in record time. She asked questions that revealed she was thinking about how everything worked together. Her enthusiasm and willingness to learn were her most promising qualities. In just the first hour, Penelope was asking the universe what took so long for Clara to arrive.

They clocked out for lunch when the review was finished. Penelope looked at the clock as she took a bite of her sandwich. It was 1:30. The closing shift started at 2:00, which meant Spencer would show up at any minute. He always came in early for closing shifts. She wondered if he'd think her pathetic for planning it so carefully.

As if on cue, the door opened. In he came, looking as handsome as one can look in the silly uniform they had to wear. He walked over to the table and sat down in the chair previously occupied by Clara, who had gone to the microwave to warm her food. Penelope didn't raise any objections.

"Hey, Ellie. How's life?"

She tried to ignore the nickname.

"Life is pretty fantastic, actually! I got a call-back for the Orlando City Talent Show!"

"Dude, that's awesome! When did you find out?"

"They called me last night. I'm so excited! Nervous, but excited!"

"I'm excited for you! I'm a little surprised by the call-back, though. Not that you shouldn't get one," he added after she narrowed her eyes at him, "I just think you deserve automatic entry. Screw a call-back! You're the best."

Penelope smiled at him but quickly lowered her head. She didn't think he realized what it did to her when she said things like that.

"Well," he said, "I drank a large coke on my way here, so I need to go hit up the men's room."

"Great. Just what I wanted to hear."

"I'm full of fun information, aren't I?" he said as he rose from his seat.

Penelope heard a yelp and looked up. Apparently, Spencer had to go bad enough to not watch where he was going.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't see you there."

"That's ok," Clara answered politely. Her food had somehow managed to stay in its container.

Penelope rolled her eyes. "Don't mind him. He's an idiot."

"Is this your trainee, Ellie?"

"Yes. This is Clara. She's a million times more awesome than you."

"Hi, Clara. I'm Spencer. Welcome to the crazy Henry Blacksmith family." He took her hand to shake it.

Penelope's stomach sank. She didn't like that handshake. Not one bit.

"Where's your trainee?" asked Spencer the next morning.

"Nice to see you, too," Penelope said as she lay on the break room couch.

"Sorry. Hi, Ellie. I'm just confused. I spoke to Clara on her way out yesterday, and she told me she'd see me tomorrow. It's tomorrow."

"I imagine she's on her second day of training with Becky, which means they'll come in this afternoon. I was just covering the shift yesterday, remember?"

"Oh, right. I forgot."

"That's your favorite thing to do."

It probably sounded more mean than she intended, but her positivity had sunk when he mentioned her name. She had let herself hope that their encounter yesterday meant nothing; not to him, anyway. Maybe it was just nice to meet someone new. Maybe he just wanted to be welcoming. Maybe… she was fooling herself. Clara was gorgeous, witty, outgoing, and charming. What reasonable guy wouldn't be impressed with her at first sight?

Exactly!

It was just a good first impression. It didn't necessarily mean anything significant. It didn't have to go any further. Right.

Penelope stretched her legs out and turned her body on its side, facing toward the back of the couch and away from the noise.

"Better not fall asleep, Ellie. We have to start in five minutes."

She didn't say anything.

"So, Ellie…"

"I was going to try and rest, but it appears that you will not let me," she said with her eyes still closed."

"What was that? I can't tell what you're saying because your face is in the couch."

"What do you want?" she said louder.

"Besides training, do you know if Clara works this week?"

Her heart sank a little. "Why do you care?"

"Would you just answer me?"

"Fine," she said, rolling over. "She finishes training tomorrow, she has Friday off, and she closes on Saturday. Satisfied?"

"Damn it. I open on Saturday."

Her heart sank a little more. She knew what was coming.

"Do you happen to know anyone who closes on Saturday who'd want to open instead?" he asked in almost a whisper.

"Why do you want to close?" She knew the answer but prayed she was wrong.

"This is going to sound kind of crazy, Ellie, but I really want to work with Clara. I want to get to know her better. There's something… different about her. I want more time."

She wanted to cry. She wanted to tell him that he was crazy. She wanted to make up some grand story of how Clara was already taken, and he shouldn't bother trying. She wanted to.

She remained silent. Damn morals.

"So do you know anyone who would switch with me?"

She didn't have to say anything, but that would be lying by omission. She could have said no, but that would be flat-out lying. She could have told him that she had a closing shift on Saturday, but she was tired of opening and needed to catch up on some sleep. She could have said any of those things.

But she didn't. She loved him.

"Spencer, today must be your lucky day," she announced, sitting up. "I am closing on Saturday, and I will happily switch with you. You better not be late."

Watching Spencer's face light up made Penelope feel like the dagger entering her heart was almost worth it. Almost.

"Thanks, Ellie! I know I say this time all the time, but… you're the best. Really."

"It's 7:30!" someone from the other side of the room yelled. Penelope was glad. Those words suddenly didn't mean as much to her anymore.

She ignored Spencer for the majority of the day, which was not hard to do. Working at a theme park had its benefits. There were plenty of tasks to do to keep one's mind occupied. She hoped no guests complained, though- she was most definitely in the mood to pick a fight.

Penelope wiped the beads of sweat off her forehead. Humidity was supposed to help the vocal chords, so why couldn't she seem to hit this note? She restarted the song and tried again.

"I love him

But everyday I'm learning

All my life

I've only been pretending.

Without me

His wor-"

She couldn't stop the tears any longer. She knelt down on the floor and let them fall. She barely heard the front door open.

"Holy crap! It's hot as hell in here!"

"I've called it in already. It should be fixed tomorrow," Penelope replied with her head still down.

She heard Amy wonder why she wasn't at work as she sat on the floor next to her.

She didn't want to tell Amy anything, partly out of embarrassment and partly out of denial. She could have thought of a lie, but here she was- sobbing. The music was still playing in the background, beckoning her to spill her guts to her best friend.

"Spencer doesn't like me, Amy." She said it, and it was real.

"But how do you know?"

"You know Clara, the girl I trained on her first day? He likes her. He's practically in love with her."

"That bitch!"

Penelope laughed through her tears. "You have no idea how much I want to hate her, but she's wonderful."

"Dontcha hate that?" said Amy, as she paused the music. "Weren't you supposed to close tonight?"

"I was but-" she sniffled, "Spencer found out Clara had a closing shift tonight, so I traded him for his opening. I'm exhausted, and the ride was down for most of the day, so the guests were angry. And then when I left- I saw the two of them walking to position together. They were laughing and looked like… like a couple. It was adorable. And I wanted to throw up."

"Oh, sweetie…"

"I may be hopelessly in love with him, but he's still my friend. I would have done the same for anybody. All of my friends are important to me."

"I know. You're probably the least selfish person I know. Just… be careful. You're important, too."

"Ellie!"

"Spencer!" Despite what was going on, her heart still leapt when she saw him.

"It's so awesome you're here. I feel like we haven't worked together in ages!"

Penelope mustered her best smile. "Maybe that's because you've been, um, distracted."

He gave a sheepish grin that simultaneously broke and melted her heart.

"How's that going, by the way?" She really didn't want to know, but she had to ask. Because that's what any other friend would do in this situation. And they were friends.

"Pretty well, actually. I asked her on a date."

"And?"

"And she said yes, of course."

"That's wonderful!" Where was her Best Actress Oscar?

"She seemed a little hesitant, though."

"Good. That should bring your ego back down to normal size, then."

"I don't want a pity date."

Penelope sighed. "She trusts me, I was one of her trainers. It looks like she's here today," motioned to the list of names on the shift board, "so I will put in a good word for you."

"You're the best, Ellie."

Luckily (or unluckily), Cara came in the door while Penelope was on her lunch. They exchanged a warm greeting as Penelope asked her how she liked work.

"It's really fun, so far! And the people are great! You were right- it is a big family."

That was it. The opening she needed.

"Yeah, we're all really close. So… has anyone caught your eye yet? We have a lot of cute guys that work here. Most of them are gay, but- you never know."

Penelope winced when Clara laughed. Even her laugh sounded angelic. Damn.

"There is this one guy…"

"Oh?" said Penelope, feigning ignorance.

"Yeah. Spencer. He's really cute and really funny. he even asked me out on a date, but… I've had some bad experiences in the past with guys who have the wrong intentions. And he seems like the type who could charm the pants off any girl, ya know? I just want to know how careful I need to be."

Penelope had a few choices. She could say nothing and just let things play out as they may. She could ignore the fact that Clara had the wrong idea about Spencer and let her leave her guard up and possibly ruin what could be an amazing date. She could even lie. She could tell Clara that she was right about him and to steer clear. She could have done any of those things.

But she didn't. She loved him.

"Listen. I've known Spencer for over a year, and I can honestly say that he one of the kindest, most thoughtful people I've ever met. He only ever has the best intentions. And I think he really likes you and wants to get to know you better. You should go on that date without any hesitation whatsoever."

Funny. She thought telling the truth was supposed to make you feel better.

"That was amazing! Only two days left! You are going to kill that call back! In the best way, I mean."

"Thanks, Amy. I'm surprised I made it through the whole thing without another breakdown."

The oven timer went off, signaling their ratatouille was finished. Amy booked it to the kitchen, not wanting to commit the sin of overcooking. Penelope took another sip of her lemon tea. It was disgusting, but she drank it anyway. Her phone signaled a text message.

"Who's texting you now, Ms. Popular?" asked Amy from the kitchen.

"Him." Spencer's name had gone unspoken in their apartment for a few days. It seemed acceptable, as anger was one of the steps of the grieving process. Although Penelope couldn't exactly claim a loss- he was never her's, after all- she still felt like something was gone.

"What does he want?" asked Amy, with a touch of bitterness. She wasn't angry at Spencer either, but her loyalty to her best friend allowed her to play along.

Penelope read the text message. Spencer explained that as he and Clara were discussing their schedule, they realized the only day Clara could go on this date in the near future would be Friday evening. Spencer, however, had a closing shift that night and wanted to switch for Penelope's opening. Penelope relayed this information to Amy.

"How could he ask you something like that?! That's the night of the callbacks!"

"This is Spencer we're talking about. He probably forgot." It felt good to say his name again.

Amy's back was turned as she gathered plates from the cupboard. "I can hear you texting back. What did you say?"

"I told him I'd think about it."

"What?!"

"Please, Amy," Penelope sighed, "I really don't need a lecture right now."

"I don't care; you're getting one."

Great.

"You gave him a good review for Clara , that was fine because you were being honest. Any decent human being would do the same. I didn't like the first shift exchange, but I was willing to excuse it because all you were losing was a few hours of sleep. But this," she said as she slammed the cupboard door shut, "this is verging on insanity. The fact that you are even considering giving up your chance at the talent show makes you sound like a crazy person! And, yes, I know I also sound like a crazy person right now, but I don't know how else to get through to you!"

Penelope was taken aback at the intensity of her reaction. She was expecting a lecture, sure, but she was not expecting this outburst.

"I don't understand why you're so angry about all of this. It's my decision."

"I'm angry because I hate watching you do this to yourself! As someone who cares deeply about your happiness, it's my duty to warn you before you make a stupid decision."

Penelope's pride level rose with her anger. "You're acting like this is a huge deal. It's not! It's just a talent show. It's not like I'm giving up my life for him!"

"But singing is your life!"

She was right. Penelope had no comeback for that one.

"It's just… I love him. I'm in love with him. You have no idea what it's like!"

"I don't know what being in love is like to know that you are acting like a fool. You keep making sacrifice after sacrifice- for what? For a guy who doesn't love you back? Spencer is a great person, but would he do the same for you? No! I get it- it's a romantic notion to be like Sydney Carton or Ms. Thenardier, to save another person's life. But this is not what you're doing. God, Penelope! When the hell will you realize that your happiness is just as important as everyone else's?"

Too upset to let any of Amy's words sink in, Penelope hurried to her room and shut the door. She lay on her bed and checked her phone; Spencer had responded.

Pleeease ellie i'll even pay you, thats how much i want to go on this date lol

She knew he didn't mean it as an insult (she wasn't sure he was capable of insulting anyone), but she felt insulted. Her stomach sank lower than it did the day he ran into Clara. Spencer was a good friend. He'd done many nice things for her, but would he ever go to such an extent to make her happy? She knew the answer.

Actually, my callback is that night, so I can't switch. Sorry, friend!

Oh right! i'm sorry, i wouldnt have asked but i forgot. good luck! your gonna do great!

It didn't take Penelope long to emerge from her room and back into the kitchen. Amy was sitting down at their little table, eating. She'd already set Penelope's place.

"That didn't take long," Amy said.

"You were right," said Penelope as she took her seat in the empty chair across from Amy.

"Well, we both know that, but I appreciate you saying it out loud."

Penelope laughed and took a bite. "You really out did yourself this time, Amy. This is delicious!"

"Thank you, I'm glad you like it."

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Amy spoke up. Her tone was much more gentle than the last time they spoke.

"I would like to correct you on one more matter, though."

"And what would that be?"

"You said that I don't know what it's like to be in love. That may be true in the romantic sense, but I do know what it's like to love someone so much that you would do anything in order to see them happy. I know what it's like to hurt because of the simple fact that someone else is hurting. Penelope, you're my best friend. And I love you. And I just wish that you would treat yourself as kindly as you treat others."

Penelope's eyes watered.

"I understand, Amy. I love you, too. I need to learn how to love myself a little bit more."

"Agreed."

"And this whole Spencer thing… it's probably all for the best." she said, handing Amy her phone. "Any man who says 'good luck' instead of 'break a leg' and who can't use the correct form of 'your' is not the man for me."

Penelope accepted her $100 check with grace. Second place wasn't too bad. When the curtain closed, she ran backstage and then down into the audience to greet her fan club, which consisted of Amy and co-workers. The first person to catch her in an embrace was Spencer.

"Ellie! You did great!"

Finally. She could hug him without feeling sadness or hopeless longing. Just a genuine happiness to have him as a friend.

"I heard you were a good singer, but wow- you completely blew me away!"

"Thank you, Clara. I'm honored the two of you chose to spend date night with me."

"Spencer insisted, and I had no objection."

"You were obviously robbed from first place," said Amy, taking her turn in the queue of hugs, "but second place isn't too shabby."

There was one person she was kind of surprised to see, though. And he had flowers.

"James!"

"Congratulations, Penelope. These are for you," he handed her the flowers. Orange roses. Her favorite. "I tried to get these to you before the show, but I was running a little late. I'm glad I made it, though. It was beautiful. You're very talented."

"Thank you," she blushed into the roses and read the attached note:

To: Penelope

From: James

(You're going to break so many legs!)