Cattleya — Majesty
You almost miss the greenhouse entirely. The entrance is around the side of the building, down three stone steps slick with moss. But then you see the glass, fogged from the inside, and you pull the handle.
Inside, it's a jungle. Theo is somewhere in the back — you hear him before you see him, humming something tuneless while water runs. He emerges from behind a wall of bromeliads, wiping his hands on an apron that was probably khaki once. Now it's the color of earth.
He looks at you. Really looks. Tips his head slightly.
"You've been making yourself small," he says.
It's not a question. You open your mouth to argue but nothing comes out, because he's already walking, and you're already following. He takes you to the center of the greenhouse, where the light is strongest — a single bench under the apex of the glass roof where the sun hits hardest at noon.
The cattleya sits there alone. Not because it needs space. Because everything else would look like a backdrop.
The bloom is enormous. Purple-pink petals spread wide open, edges ruffled like they were sculpted by someone who refused to stop adding detail. The lip of the flower is deep magenta, almost indecent in its richness. It doesn't apologize. It doesn't tuck itself away. It sits in the full sun and dares you to look.
"The corsage orchid," Theo says, standing beside you with his arms crossed. "They used to pin these on women before dances. Because some moments call for something that refuses to be ignored."
He turns to you. "You know what the cattleya's secret is? It only blooms once, maybe twice a year. It spends all that time gathering. Building. And then —" He opens his hands wide. "It doesn't hold back. Not one petal's worth."
He lifts the pot — heavy clay, no decoration — and holds it out.
"Bright light. Let the roots dry between waterings. And stop apologizing for taking up room." He raises an eyebrow. "Some things are meant to be seen."
Cattleya — Majesty
Fior Fiore Plant Shop — $0.99
Some things are meant to be SEEN.