Author Note: Just got an urge to write a Racetrack one-shot. It's not the best, but I needed to get it off my chest, you know. Something I'd been thinking about. Please read and review!! Also, Race refers to the girl in this story as 'distraction' most of the time, so don't be confused.
Disclaimer: Don't own a damn thing.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I watched her from across my selling spot, trying not to become too distracted as I continued to hawk the headlines. But I couldn't help it...she was a distraction. My distraction...and she was always there, on that corner, every morning, rain or shine.
It was a cold day, snow swirling about, and the streets dirty and slushy. But she was still thereāa basket of beautiful exotic flowers in her right arm, her left hand holding one of those beauties, her blue eyes hopefully scanning the Manhattan rush.
"Flower? Would you like to buy a flower?"
She would call, but most of the time it was in vain. No one seemed to want a flower from a young girl who couldn't be more than sixteen, with dirt smudged on her cheeks and her dark hair blowing in the wind, just trying to make a living. A ragged shaw hung over her small shoulders, and her torn dress was soaked through. Her lips were blue when they longed for pink. But despite her haggard appearance, she was beautiful. A mysterious beauty, one I'd never seen before in all my seventeen years of age.
And there was always a little girl beside her, standing there with her own flowers in her little hands. The little girl couldn't have been more than three, and she looked so small for her age. Her little baby curls were matted and she was coated in filth. I kept watching her as I sold my last pape, desperately wanting to go and talk to her. I didn't even know her name, yet I'd loved her from afar since I was fifteen and I'd seen her selling there. I couldn't help but fall for her, even when I was with the girl I was dating at the time. How I longed to talk to that girl who sold flowers on the corner.
She was a distraction.
"Hey Race, you'se comin' tah Tibby's?"
I looked up when Mush called out to me from a few feet away. "Be there in a minute!" I yelled. My gaze turned back to that little girl. She looked so bony, like she needed to be fed. I fingered the nickel in my pocket. A vender was selling hot crescent rolls and I knew what I had to do, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to do it...I still had to eat myself.
"Please, miss, would you like a flower?" My distraction called out. The lady she had asked just looked disgustedly at her and walked away. I saw a tear slip down the girl's cheek and I couldn't help but feel my heart break.
"Er sir, can I have one a doz' crescent rolls?"
Making my way through the crowd, I headed for their direction. I only wanted to talk to my flower girl, but I couldn't. Instead I looked down at the little girl and held out the steaming roll. My distraction looked at me, fascinated, but I kept my gaze on the little girl. The little girl eyed the roll hungrily, and looked back up at me, as if afraid.
"Go on," I said. "Take it."
The little girl snatched the roll out of my hand and took a bite, staring down at the ground. I couldn't look at my girl in the eyes, my mind was frozen. I turned to walk away, but I felt a hand on my arm. I looked up into the most beautiful eyes; those eyes that I'd wish would look at me for so long.
"A flower for you kind sir," she said softly, her dark hair swirling about her frost bitten face. She held out a flower for me and stared intently in my eyes. I slowly reached out and took the flower, and I couldn't seem to think. I just stared into the depths of her eyes, and I saw frozen tears on her cheeks.
I began to come to my senses and was just about to ask for her name, when a large crowd of business men pushed through us, separating me from the girl. I was pushed into the street, where I was nearly ran over by a carriage. By the time I could see the girl and the little girl, I was too afraid to approach her. She was running her hands through the little girl's hair and when the little girl held out the roll for her, she refused and forced the little girl to eat it all. She turned back to her basket, and pulled out another flower. Then, for a fleeting second, she met my eyes and offered me the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen, and then looked away and I was lost in the crowd once again.
I never did talk to my distraction. A few weeks later the little girl stopped appearing at her side, and I didn't want to know why, though I knew deep in my heart she had been taken up to the heavens above. A few more days later my distraction as I began to refer to her in my head, stopped showing up on the corner every morning. I finally did find out her name. Lottie Crewe. Blink told me one day when I asked if he ever knew of the girl who sold flowers on the corner that he'd bought a flower from her before for his girl and being outgoing as always, he'd asked her name, and they chatted for a few minutes. The little girl was her sister.
I figured once the little girl was gone, Lottie couldn't take it. It wouldn't be until two years later that I would find out Lottie had died from pneumonia only days after she'd stopped selling flowers on the corner.
I don't know why I never talked to Lottie. Maybe it was because I felt she was almost not real, that if I talked to her she'd vanish. I regret not talking to her; maybe I could have helped her and her sister. It was just one of those things I regret, something I'll never forget, something that was no more.
Even when I met Clover a few months after Lottie disappeared from the corner, and even when we got married, I never forget about Lottie. Though I had never spoken to her save for that one day, and even though I didn't learn her name until months later, and even though I didn't know her, I always loved her from afar. It was one of those loves that go unspoken, just something you always know is there. Even though I never got the chance to know her.
Lottie. The girl on the corner with the flowers and the little girl. A distraction.
My distraction.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
There it is...I hoped anyone who read this like it somewhat...it was weird, but whatever.
