a note from your author:

this is the first chapter i wrote of this story. it's special. little popuri is very important to the story. it's not all about jack, you know.

...well actually, i guess it is, but popuri is very important to jack's story.

vanity

Much like any other girl, Popuri had spent a lifetime dreaming of the perfect wedding. She had imagined her dress, her veil, her crying and proud parents, & the huge bed she would finally get to sleep in with her new husband (she also dreamed of the large amount of pillows a bed of that size could contain). She had gone over and over every detail of the day in her head. Somehow it was everything she'd pictured but, at the same time, nothing at all like she thought it would be.

Popuri squinted one eye at the mirror and tilted her head. She sure didn't look old enough to get married. Momma had been seventeen when she married Daddy, so Popuri was plenty old to marry (she KNEW that). But, she just didn't look... eighteen.

She tried to think about the word, and noticed two things: it was spelt different from most other words, and it was long (too long). Also, Popuri decided, it was quite odd and slightly awkward to say outloud. But that wasn't something she chose to focus on, because it was just her personal opinion after all. Maybe others thought it was a cool word, different, unique... it was not Popuri's place to decide.

"Eighteen. Ei-g-h-t-een."

I guess it had always been the plan, but her reflection in the mirror didn't match the version in her dream. She'd always imagined that by the time she got married, she would look, well, just so much... older. She still had chubby cheeks! She was still soft. And she was only five foot four, and she kind of hoped she would be atleast five foot six (but since she was eighteen now, she supposed that meant she wasn't going to grow anymore). This thought had never before occurred to her. This is what she looked like; she was a grownup, and this was the face of a grownup.

"I'm a grownup now, Kitty Meow Meow. It's time to let go of childhood dreams and fantasies. This is the face of a grownup. Just as grown up as Momma." Kitty Meow Meow purred from her position at Popuri's ankles, but didn't offer a response.

Popuri realized this also meant her breasts were probably never going to grow bigger, either. She flew a hand to cup her right boob. She was always delighted she got her petite waist from her father's side, but now she mourned the loss of her mothers assets.

"Well maybe not AS grown up as Momma..."

Popuri stood, examining her profile reflection in the vanity mirror. It was the only piece of furniture left in the room beside her bed. All her clothes, potted plants, even Kitty Meow Meow's bed, had all been moved into Jack's house already.

Popuri laughed at herself. "Jack's house". It was her house now. It was their house – the Rose residence.

She was pretty, sure, but she wanted to be beautiful tomorrow. She remembered being beautiful on her wedding day, in her dreams. Not cute nor pretty, but... regal. She just didn't feel old enough to be beautiful. Popuri didn't feel ready to look the most beautiful a woman should ever look in her life. Not so soon.

Wasn't it soon? Life felt like it just began yesterday.

Popuri figured she should practice doing her hair for tomorrow. The wedding was pretty early, and she didn't want to risk screwing up. She ran her fingers across her meticulously organized makeup corner. Momma had done it all, early on. Most of the makeup had come from her. Her and Karen, of course. Her fingers landed on a box of pale pink bobby pins and a slim white hairspray canister. On their last trip to town, Popuri had picked up a fashion magazine and found her perfect hairstyle. A pop singer named Lady GaGa had a bow made out of her own hair sitting atop her head. Popuri had since ripped out the picture and taped it to the side of the mirror, trying to get the style right. A few days back she finally perfected it, but decided to save it's debut for her wedding day. She considered it a perfect placeholder for a veil.

Popuri had to admit that this hairstyle was even better now than in her previous visions. A thick bow resting amidst soft waves of cherry hair. Straight was in fashion now, perhaps, but curls were more feminine and Popuri knew she was lucky to have them. Popuri's flaxen-strawberry hue of hair was so unique -- she always had, and always would, adore her family's genetic gift of pink hair (her mother and grandmother were the only other two people in the world she had ever seen with hair the same).

The dress was perfect, the hair was cuter than anything she ever could have dreamed up, the man was the one every single girl in town wanted, and by marrying him her name would legally be changed to Popuri Rose. It was more than she even would have thought to ask for – and it all fell into her lap, courtesy of the boy who should be perfect for her.

Popuri opened the crowded top drawer of the vanity and reached to the back. She had stashed a picture Karen drew a long time ago there. She had found it when going through a box of clothes Karen's mother had given her after she had left. The picture was dog-eared and folded three times in the pants pocket of her old jean,s, on the back signed "Karen – age 14". Karen had drawn herself, on tiptoes, kissing Gray at their wedding. Below she drew Popuri and, as she called him, "Prince Charming" doing the same. Popuri had crossed out "Prince Charming" and written "Kai" in it's place, and doodled a bandana on the groom's head.

Jack had once told Popuri that he believed anyone can fall in love with anyone else, as long as the circumstances and timing are right. He said this is because we are all the same inside and go through the same cycles eventually, but society looks down upon certain pairings which decreases their likelihood of occurring... or something (Jack says a lot of strange things like this after he's been working in his greenhouse. Popuri supposed he had a lot of time to think in there and so he just comes up with these crazy ideas. Jack is smart).

Although she didn't know how much of it was true, Popuri always wondered if under different circumstances, Kai could have fallen in love with her. Maybe if there was no Flowerbud Village, no Karen, no age difference... maybe that would have given her the same groom from the daydreams. Maybe she would be older and less cute and more beautiful and everything would be perfect... and happy! Maybe Daddy would never have left and Momma wouldn't be leaving now and Popuri wouldn't have been left alone to run her store, and her life, by herself. (not by herself, popuri corrected. she had a husband now who could take care of her instead).

None of it seems to make any sense. because you think about life, and what you want, and you make a plan, and nothing works out, and everything is ruined... and then somehow, just when you've given up, it's back on track.

But... it just never feels like what you really wanted after you've already gone through the heartbreak of getting over it.

It all just happens all of a sudden – out of no where. All of a sudden, Popuri LaFontaine wasn't a little girl anymore. All of a sudden, she was a woman (she was eighteen). She wasn't Daddy's little girl anymore, either. All of a sudden, Daddy stopped existing, and now Popuri can't remember what it was she used to love about the springtime. All of a sudden, Karen's disappeared into the night, and then... then the day came that Kai could finally look at Popuri, as a woman, and still refuse her. Now she couldn't even dream about being with Kai anymore. And starting tomorrow, she all of a sudden would no longer be Popuri LafFontaine.

Popuri finished her hair. She went to bed and slept and dreamt and thought of things forgotten moments later. She slept that night with a bow on top of her head.

"How can you do this Momma? How can you just forget about him? He's coming back!" Popuri was on her knees on the floor of her newly inherited flower shop. Crying eyes were hidden against her mother's ruffled dress. She uselessly beat her fists against the tiered cotton fabric.

Lillia LaFontaine tried to wrestle her waist from her daughter's desperate grasp. "Popuri, please stop."

"No no no no NO! This isn't fair 'n you know it!"

"Popuri, please stop. You're scaring me."

Popuri lowered her decibel. "Momma what 'm I supposed to say when Daddy when he comes back? Please don't do this to Daddy. I mean... he's coming back, and he'll be so upset. We-- we don't know how to get to Florida!"

"Popuri, your father died," Lillia repeated herself. "He is dead. He's been dead this whole time. And he's never coming back."

Popuri released her fists at once, stopped dead in her tracks by invisible restraints. Lillia darted away, leaving Popuri all alone, in the cold. It started to rain.

.... I don't remember the roof of the Flower Shop allowing rain?

It's okay. It was just a dream.