Disclaimer: I own nothing and expect no profit.
Summary: Olive reflects on traditions, the changes of time, and what eternal means.
~Particular, Once a Year Days~
Her first birthday working at The Pie Hole was very nearly a flop –
At the end of the night, the last customer gone, Olive stood in the middle of the room, exhausted and dejected. Instead of the hearty wishes and thoughtful gifts she hoped for, the day was filled with inordinately grumpy customers and stingy tips. The waitress sighed, her shoulders slumping, before turning back towards the kitchen to retrieve her purse. Ned stood in the doorway, head tilted to the side and hands behind his back. His smile was sympathetic.
"Bad day?"
"Birthday. . . and bad day, so double.
"Hold on – go sit in one of the booths."
"Ned. . ." Olive drooped even more, "I just want to go home, get out of these heels, and sleep away the memory of today."
"Just. . . wait!" Ned disappeared back into the kitchen. Olive heard the sound of rifling through the cabinets, then a crash.
"Damn it. . ."
"Ned!" Olive started to rise from her booth, only to see Ned walk out of the kitchen, holding a pie in one hand with a lit emergency candle poked into the middle. He set it onto the middle of the table, shrugging.
"Sorry, I thought we had other candles back there."
Olive stifled the laughter welling up. "I love it Ned – better than any old, ordinary birthday cake."
"It's bumbleberry – I thought between this and apple, you'd like it better. Oh, and here. . ."
Ned brought his other hand from behind his back. He handed her a rose – red. It was perfect, and once Olive recovered from the shocked, giddy "thank you" and embarrassingly long look into Ned's eyes, she made that very point.
"It's perfect Ned – where did you get it? The only roses we've had in here are those rotten leftover ones from Valentine's Day. It has to be fake."
"Nope Olive, completely real. But I can't tell you where I found it – it's a secret."
Ned winked and chuckled, which made Olive smile even bigger. She temporarily forgot her natural curiosity. . . and began to believe maybe, if no one else, she could count on Ned.
Time passed, and here she was again – home after another birthday at The Pie Hole.
Olive slumped on her bed, suddenly overwhelmed by the patterns surrounding her, reminding her of the life that was – the things she had lost. She looked at the vase beside her bed, which had transformed from that single rose on her first year to a small bouquet over time, Ned never letting another of her birthdays pass without repeating the gift of that first one. Even the emergency candle became part of the tradition.
Not this year, though – another mystery called the gang away, another time when they needed her to stay behind and mind the store. Ned had left with a generic goodbye and no sign that he recognized the significance of this particular, once a year day.
So now, Olive stared at the bouquet, wondering again why she stuck around, why she expected things would ever change between her and Ned, even more now that Chuck had come into their lives. Olive wondered again why she still felt the way she did, why her feelings couldn't just fade or disappear like something naturally should. But those flowers from Ned, just sitting there. . . they never died, never faded, never changed. She still didn't know the secret of their eternal quality – Ned stuck too close to the script, and her cajoling failed every year to get the answer out of him.
Reason told Olive that it was all fake and had been from the start. She fell back onto the bed, turning her back to the vase. But why did it seem so real?
