The moon hung like an olive in the martini sky. Calla rushed to the side of the street to hail a taxi, a trick she was quick to pick up upon moving to this city.
In the cab she organized her belongings. She wanted to know exactly where the expensive cosmetics she recently purchased were so that she could have easy access to them.
Calla nearly ran to the front of the restaurant then paused for a moment to take a breath. She walked easily through the doors and when her party saw her and raised their hands in acknowledgement she made her way to the table with the subtlest strut.
She unfolded her napkin across the lap of her little black dress. In her hometown, the little black dress would have been enough. She had learned a formula for fashion in this city, however: wear the little black dress with shoes and earrings that do not match at all. The people here thought this was simply fabulous. She ordered a glass of wine to complement her meal.
"I love what you're wearing, Calla. You look simply fabulous."
Nadine always behaved in what Calla considered to be a contrived fashion. Nadine was Calla's boss, so the contrivances were reciprocated.
"Look who's talking. You're stunning!" They kissed each other.
"Calla, I want you to meet Edward and Bijou Crossley." All stood up. Calla looked at them, said hello, and shook hands. Edward looked like a fish. He kissed Calla on the cheek and she thought, 'ewww: fish lips.' Funny, fish lips never seemed to disgust her when she caught one back home.
Bijou wore a kimono and her hair was scarlet in two pig tails, like the parting of the red sea.
They ordered and Calla chatted with Bijou. Calla's task for the evening was, in fact, to entertain the wife of the man her boss was attempting to make a deal with.
"What an interesting name you have," Bijou commented. Calla figured she was merely making small-talk as numerous others previously had utilized the topic of her name in doing so. She continued, however, "I am a botanist. I study plants. Calla lilies are extraordinary flora. They are of the genus Zantedeschia. Calla lilies are a very strong and sturdy plant. They are able to grow in many habitats and soils. Some can even manage to survive frost. I think your name is lovely." Then Bijou excused herself for the bathroom.
Calla looked around the room. Larger tables were set up in the middle of the restaurant. Along the walls were very contemporary tables for two. They were higher than the other tables and the tops of them were smaller. The shape of the table reminded her of an elderly woman she'd seen once while driving in her hometown. The woman was bent only at the hips and shoulders, tending to something in her garden. Calla remembered thinking that she looked like a table and thought about what the woman's life must be like. Judging by her yard and home, this woman had much on her plate. A little boy ran freely around with a blanket cape on. An old man read the paper lazily on the front porch. This sighting occurred shortly before Calla moved to Chicago.
Bijou returned. It was as if she never left. Time moved far more quickly in this city. She'd expected that when she came here. Calla thought about how terrible it must have been for farmers when trains were invented and they had to abide by the God of the locomotive schedule.
"Everything alright?" Bijou asked with her lovely accent.
"Oh yes, I was just wondering: how do you like this city?"
"To be honest," Bijou stated, "I have taken little notice of my surroundings. I want to get back to my plants. They are the children I never had."
"How come you never had children, if you don't mind my asking?" Recently she turned thirty and the topic of having children began to skip slowly around in Calla's mind. Her boss gave her a sharp look as if to tell her 'don't pry, Calla.' Calla hid her annoyance. At home there were no secrets. People knew about each other. Here people brushed shoulders daily and lived on top of each other without ever knowing anything of the others around them.
"I don't mind." Bijou was a kind woman. "It took years for me to complete my doctoral degree. I was offered a position at a prestigious university and then there was the pressure to produce research so that I could acquire the freedom and security of tenure. Ironically, by the time I achieved that freedom and security, the window of opportunity for children had passed. It just didn't seem feasible. Do you have children?"
"No," Calla replied simply.
"Well make certain you have them if you want them. The plants are my babies. I watch them grow. They give back to the world in the form of the beauty they exude due to the love that I give them. But they are not cognizant of it all." She leaned in to whisper, "but I pretend they are."
On the cab ride home, Calla thought about the lilies. She knew she could survive in this city, or anywhere for that matter. But when she stepped out into the night, she paused under the olive moon and martini sky and realized suddenly and fervently that she wanted to go back home to where the gin ran sloe.
