1852

 Short Stort #7 for 2023 is due today. The prompt is 1852 with a wordcount of 1800 words. Here's my entry.

Anita smiled at her reflection as she finished blotting her lipstick. She was remembering the story of how, as a child watching her mother do this, she had misunderstood and characterized the action as “kissing the tissue goodbye.” Her parents took every opportunity they could find to tell that story. The frequent retelling had embarrassed Anita when she was younger, but she had come to appreciate that her family found it so endearing.

Now, dressed for her date and realizing that she had almost an hour before Nathan would be here, she took her insulated cup of iced tea to her reading corner to relax and mentally prepare for her night out with her new friend. She sipped and reflected on how her life had changed in the last month.

*****

Only a month ago, she had begun her new job as Associate Accountant at Premier Properties, a large firm housed on the 18^th floor of the spectacular Monarch Tower, a new office building in downtown Atlanta. She was a small-town girl and had been nervous about working in the big city. Navigating the heavy traffic was a daunting prospect, and she was a little concerned for her physical safety when walking busy city sidewalks. And a whole new work environment to learn! But, those early concerns aside, Anita’s first week at Premier had gone smoothly. It had definitely been very busy with the paperwork of a new hire, the orientation sessions, meeting all the new co-workers, learning the expectations of her job, new software, new workspace, new bosses, new procedures. But she was a fast learner.

She had hardly had time to breathe that first week, and she had not socialized at all; so she was shocked when she walked into her cubicle on that second Monday to see a modest-sized, but beautiful, bouquet of wild flowers on her desk with a card propped in front of it.

“My Mom is the most thoughtful person in the world,” she thought, her face alight with the affirmation the gift implied. Frances Miller had been the epitome of the loving mother, giving her daughter freedom to grow but also guidance to help her avoid the worst potholes of childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood. So naturally, Anita’s first inclination was to assume that the flowers were evidence of her mother’s continuing support.

Anita picked up the card.

                “New jobs can be stressful. I hope these flowers will brighten your days.”

It was signed simply “1852.”

Anita blinked in confusion. What could that mean? Why would Mom sign the card like that? She’d call Mom tonight and see what the signature meant.

******

“Really?! You didn’t send them? Are you kidding me, Mom?” Anita talked into the hands-free speaker on her way home from work.

“No. I wish I’d thought of it, Honey. Can’t you think of who else might have sent them? Wow, Anita, I guess you have a secret admirer! Maybe it’s someone at your job. What was that signature again? “

“1852”

They brainstormed possibilities as Anita wound her way through traffic out of the city.

“You must have some idea what that number means!” Frances commented. “How about phone extensions in your office? Cubicles? Addresses?  Why don’t you check that when you get home.

After a fast food dinner she picked up on the way and ate at the counter in her apartment when she got home, Anita looked through all her orientation materials and pulled out her copy of the company directory. Following her mother’s suggestions, she checked to see if the number 1852 came up in anyone’s address. It didn’t. “Hmmm All the phone extensions are three-digit numbers. Cubicles? Nope! Two-digit numbers there.” She texted her mom that those investigations had netted no clues.

There was no social life for Anita that week or even that weekend. New jobs are SO exhausting! She came straight home, ate dinner, and crashed every night  -- and then almost slept the weekend away.

Coming out of weekend hibernation, Anita walked into her cubicle Monday to find a new bouquet on her desk! Again?! This time there were three perfect yellow roses. Her favorite flower! And there was Baby’s Breath added - and a sprig of fern and a fluffy white bow. So pretty!

She picked up the card and read, “What a successful first week you had! Here’s to an even better one!” Again the note was signed “1852.”

Throughout that second week, Anita often glanced at the flowers as she worked. She smiled. And wondered. She had little time to think about it while at work, but each night her mom would call to suggest other possible meanings of the signature. On Thursday, Anita even stayed at work until nearly seven because her mother thought that the number might reference the military time of 18:52. As Anita left the eerily-quiet building that evening, after 6:52 came and went in silence, she swore to just forget the mystery. Whoever was sending the flowers would let her know when he/she wanted Anita to know. This staying late thing had been based on a silly theory. What if she got mugged in the darkening parking garage!

That Saturday, Anita and her college friend, Bridgett, met up for their monthly catchup. As they leaned together to talk in the noisy coffee shop, they reminisced about their carefree college days and discussed Bridgett’s on-again-off-again relationship with her high school boyfriend, Mason. That relationship had survived the separation of college years, although none of their friends could understand how. Two people could hardly be more different than those two. Mason had been a buttoned-down, serious student and their senior class president, while Bridgett’s life revolved around art, music, and fashion. She loved flamboyant clothing and vivid make-up. She was the only girl in their class whose hair was seldom the same color on any given week. Mason was now a lawyer in his father’s firm in Marietta, a suburb North of Atlanta, and Bridget was a free-lance designer still struggling to master the logistics of making her creativity profitable. Still, the couple’s frequent breakups always ended in reconciliation.

After Bridgett had finished updating Anita on the current state of hers and Mason’s relationship (hot and heavy right now!), she turned to Anita with her usual question.

“Any new men in your life?”

“Well, you know I started my new job three weeks ago, so I haven’t had time for a social life,” Anita hedged.

But Bridgett was spellbound as Anita began telling about her “secret admirer,” as Mom insisted on calling the flower-sender.

Bridgett, being Bridgett, immediately went into flower-child mode and began proposing several “out there” possibilities to explain the questionable signature on the gift cards.

“Hey! You know in the metaphysical realm, Angels are numbered. When a number comes up in your life, it could be an angel. A lot of people believe that some numbers are messages from the spiritual universe that offer insight. They can confirm that you're on the right path, or give invaluable insight on a complicated situation, or even explain events you experience throughout your life.”

While Anita looked at her, speechless, Bridgett was frantically thumbing her phone.

“It says here that Angel #1852 is an encourager. If you see this angel, the message is about personality development and creativity, suggesting that your personal growth is strengthening. Hmmm. That’s not much help, is it? The flowers ARE encouraging, and a new job certainly shows personal growth; but that doesn’t help figure out who sent those flowers.”

Bridgett’s thumbs began their work again. “Numerology! Why didn’t I think of that before? Let’s see 1852 reduced down to its base number?  1+8+5+2 is 16. Then 1+6=7. So 7 is the base number of 1852.”

Bridgett continued to tap at her phone. “Wow, Anita! Seven is like the best base number you can have! It’s in the Bible as the perfect number; and it’s a prime number, which means that it has power. It says here that ‘Number 7 is a true seeker of truth. It represents an inner need to dig deep to find golden truths…’ ” Her voice trailed off.

“I’ll run that one by Mom,” interrupted Anita. She always said that 7 is the number of perfection. That was her explanation for why she and Dad had 7 children. They stopped having children after they reached #7 – the perfect family.”

As Anita and Bridgett hugged goodbye and each put the date of their next get-together into their calendars, they agreed that the mystery of 1852 was still just as obscure as it had ever been.

Sunday, at church, Anita managed to forget her job and the mystery of the flower-sender while she listened to the music and Pastor Jennings’s inspiring message; but she got a funny feeling afterwards when she talked briefly with Edward. This young man, just slightly older than she, had begun attending Anita’s adopted home church in the city just a few months ago. They had been friendly and talked a little each week after the service but never saw each other outside church. Today Edward asked how her new job was going, but he certainly didn’t seem overly interested.  Hmmm…

When Anita arrived at work Monday morning, she was almost afraid to walk into her cubicle. She actually closed her eyes as she stepped through the opening, afraid she wouldn’t see the bouquet she had begun to expect on her desk.  

When she opened her eyes, there, beside her computer, was the most beautiful artisanal pottery bowl holding a live purple amaryllis! The colors of the flower and the pottery that held it were so aesthetically complementary, it took her breath away!

Anita’s phone dinged, drawing her eyes away from the flowers for a minute. She looked down to read a text from her Mom.

“Good Morning, Baby. I hope you have a great day. About the mystery. I was just thinking could the number be broken up into two numbers? Could it be 18 and 52 for example? Just a thought. I love you.”

Anita put her phone away and picked up the card propped in front of the pretty pottery bowl.

“Happy Monday, Anita! How about dropping by my cubicle (#52) during your break, so we can finally meet.”

Looking closely at the signature, 1852, Anita noticed for the first time that there was the tiniest of dots between the 8 and the 5.

*****

And, as they say, the rest is history.

Tonight Anita is sitting in her reading corner sipping iced tea and remembering how she met Nathan, her new friend who works on the 18^th floor, cubicle 52 of the Monarch Tower.

The doorbell rings.

She opens the door to her date, and the story of Anita and Nathan begins.