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Fiction Short Story

by Bill Larson

Fresh Flowers

"Can't you just smile one time, Harry?" When Stephanie put her hands on her hips, Harry knew it meant lecture. "We're in Haifa at the Don Carmel. Would it hurt you to smile? Can't you try to enjoy this luxurious hotel?"

"We live in Miami. Why do we need to come to Israel? Tell me, Stephanie, is the Mediterranean out there any prettier than our view of the Atlantic? All I'm saying is why did we need to come over to Israel with all this killing and bombing?"

"You watch too much cable news, Harry. Have you heard one bomb explode? Has anyone shot at you? Why are we here? We're Jewish, Harry. This is Israel. Half our synagogue is here, for heaven's sake. We'll probably never get a chance for a tour like this again. Can't you just for one minute stop worrying and enjoy this beautiful hotel and the breathtaking view?"

"Okay, okay, I'll enjoy. Just stop harping on it. I'll smile already."

"Look, Harry, beautiful fresh flowers on the dinning table. Here's a card. 'Mr. and Mrs. Harry Perleman. The staff of the Don Carmel extend our good wishes for a wonderful time.' Isn't that classy? These flowers are especially for us. The tour people were right. This is certainly a first class hotel. Aren't you glad we came, Harry? Now hurry and get changed into something less wrinkled. Our group is meeting in that nice restaurant right on the water. We've only got about an hour, so hurry."

"Okay. I'm hurrying. Couldn't we have just one evening to kick back and maybe read the paper or watch some television? Room service would be nice."
 
"I can't believe you, Harry. We come all the way to Israel, and what do you want to do? Stay in the hotel, order up room service and watch television. I don't know whether you realize it, Harry, but you do that every night at home, except that I'm the room service. Humor me a little. I work hard keeping up our home so you'll be comfortable. Would it begrudge you to try to get into the spirit of things? You know, maybe have a little fun and enjoy ourselves?"

"There, I'm smiling, I'm changing my clothes. How's that? I'm having a good time."

"I'd like for you to actually mean it, Harry."

"I mean it. I mean it." He pulled his lips back and grinned like a Cheshire cat.

"That's more like it. We're here, and we're going to have a good time. It won't kill us, you know."

"Will this restaurant have anything I like?"

"How should I know, Harry? I've never been there. It's supposed to be a five star restaurant. It has to have something you like. Besides, if by some chance you don't find anything on the menu that looks good, you can order up from room service when we get back. Room service is open all night."

"Why don't we save ourselves all the trouble of changing clothes and going out? Like I said, we can just order up from room service and enjoy our evening."

"Harry, you're exasperating. I told you; we're going to have a great time. We'll be with good friends in a great restaurant. How can we not enjoy our evening? So, do us both a favor, stop with the room service and the television."
 
"Don't worry, Stephanie. I'll have a good time. I'll like the food. I'll smile. I'll be nice to our friends."

"I'm counting on that, Harry."

"Don't you love the name of this place, Harry, Palms by the Sea? It's such a beautiful restaurant. I don't have to eat; I can just sit and stare at this place. I've never seen anything like it. I'm so glad we came on this tour. Now really, Harry, aren't you glad we came?"

"Yes, Stephanie, I'm glad we came. Do you see anyone from our group?"

"There they are. It looks like we're eating al fresco this evening. What an ornate terrace, and look at that view of the Mediterranean. Hey, there're a couple of seats across from Helen and Stan. Oh, this is nice. Have you guys been here long?"

"We just arrived. I had to practically drag Stanley. What a party pooper."

"I know what you mean, Helen. I had to beg Harry to come and have a good time. What's wrong with them? If we take another tour, it should just be for the women. We know how to live."

"Look, Stephanie, we're on opposite sides of the table, and we all have a view of the sea. Isn't this a snazzy place?"

"I just love it, Helen. Oh, have you seen Joyce and Marvin? I thought if you were up for it, we'd ask Joyce to join us for a little shopping tomorrow morning and top it off with some lunch. We could leave our husbands to fend for themselves."

"I'd love to do that. Joyce and Marvin are at that table over by that fountain. We don't have to worry about the husbands. They have television."

"That's the truth, Helen. What do you think? Meet in the lobby about 9:30 in the morning, shop till we drop and then catch lunch down here by the sea."

"I'm in, Stephie. Let's go over and recruit Joyce."

As the ladies moved toward the table where Joyce and Marvin sat, a cute little boy selling flowers came in from the beachside, and walked up the three brick stairs onto the terrace. Harry noticed him, waved and beckoned for him to come over.

"I've really been giving Stephanie a hard time. What do you say, Stan? Shall we buy the girls some flowers and show them we're pretty nice guys after all?"

"Good idea, Harry."

"Show me what you got, kid. Hey, I like those red carnations. What about you, Stan?"

"They look like winners, Harry."

The little boy flashed a disarming smile and his dark eyes danced as he handed two large bunches of blood red carnations to Harry.

The explosion decimated most of the terrace. Harry didn't hear it.


About the Author
Bill Larson does his writing on the southwest coast of Florida.  He has been published in Palm Beach County Magazine in 1988 and in a local magazine, Images, on two occasions in 1992. After a self-imposed sabbatical, he began writing seriously again and has had several short fiction pieces published online from 2003 to 2006. Bill is working on two novels, one of which he hopes to finish this year. He makes his home with his wife, Janice and son, Jeffrey, in Cape Haze, Florida.