Amazing Short Stories

By Daphne Alcott

TWO RED ROSES

Softly, I grab your hand, the hand that has been intertwined with mine so many times before. I look at your beautiful face and let out a weak chuckle at your slightly crooked eyeliner which I had applied myself. You’ve tried to teach me to paint it on as elegantly and detailed as you can, but it’ll never look as good as yours. I’ve also picked out the clothes you’re wearing, the same clothes you were wearing the first time I saw you.

A young woman I had never seen before walked into the café, you. Our eyes met for a second but it felt like an eternity. You slowly made your way towards me, looking around the small, cosy café. Your cheeks were slightly rosy from the cold autumn air which managed to nestle its way through thick clothes to remind us that it was October and that everything was grey and cloudy. You swept the brown bangs out of your eyes before you let your hands loosely hang by your side again. Instinctively I brushed the crumbs off of the floral dress I wore under the white apron every day.

    “Hey.”

    I flashed you a warm smile. “Hi, how can I help you?”

    “I’d like a black coffee, please.”

    Yours was a rather unusual order unlike all of the frappuccinos and macchiatos I had made. I told you that; that coffee should be warm and aromatic with a soft, bitter aftertaste, not as cold and sugary like many people thought nowadays. And you nodded in agreement. I wrote your name on the cardboard mug, Elora. It was difficult to write nice and neat letters with the thick felt-tip pen, but I tried more than on other mugs. I was hoping you’d notice. You probably didn’t. Carefully, I adjusted the nameplate on my chest so you’d know my name too. Did you see that?

    When I held out the mug toward you I held onto it a while longer than what was normal, just to get to see your azure eyes one more time. You took the mug out of my hand, mumbled a quick thank you and turned towards the door. My gaze followed you as you walked away, until you disappeared into the crowd.

    I thought I’d never see you again, but then, only six months later, I was laying on your bed, my head against your chest. Carefully you pulled your fingers through my hair. My hand gently caressed your leg. The whole room was as if wrapped in a warm, velvety blanket, surrounded by warmth and tranquility. That day you gave me a lovely rose and told me you loved me. My cheeks grew more red than the rose’s beautiful petals and a pleasant warmth spread in my heart. I already knew that I loved you so much, Elora, everything about you. From the unique aura that lit up everything around you to how you made me genuinely love and savour every day when I was lucky enough to wake up with you next to me.

    Soon after this, we moved in together. Into a small apartment with only a small kitchen, a bedroom and a bathroom, but we didn’t mind. It was cosy. We couldn’t arrange any large parties or anything, but that was okay. An ideal Saturday night was just the two of us in front of a movie with a bowl of popcorn, no one else, just us. “I love you, Sadie” was something I would never get tired of hearing. And you never seemed to get tired of saying it over and over again.

    Days became weeks which became months and years. Our hands were finally adorned with identical rings, they had no large, obnoxious diamonds but were simple, stylish silver rings embellished with rose quartz, the crystal of love. We were planning a wedding in May, spring was your favourite season. You adored it because everything came to life, everything bloomed in a variety of exquisite colours, from deep and sophisticated violet to clear and joyous yellow. Everything went our way, everything was good.

    But all good things must come to an end.

     I don’t even know what happened but the pink shimmer that covered our world slowly began to fade away. Reluctantly, we realised that life couldn’t be as wonderful and perfect as it had been, it wasn’t possible in the real world. We spent less and less of our time together. We grew up and became different people. You weren’t the same Elora who walked into the cosy café with her nonchalant style and her subtle smile. And I wasn’t the same Sadie who shyly adjusted her dainty dress and curiously watched you with her doe eyes. We slipped apart slowly but I didn’t want to realise it, I refused to realise it. Our home was no longer wrapped in that soft blanket, now it was weighed down by dark clouds. But we didn’t want to see them. Desperately, we continued to hold onto a small corner of the blanket and we thirsted after the sweet warmth it provided us with.

    I wasn’t okay, it was like a lump in my stomach that never went away. However, it was nothing compared to what you went through. I wish I had known how truly miserable you were, how dark and heavy your clouds were. But we were never good at talking about our feelings or problems. If only I had known, I could have helped you and supported you through the hard times. If only I had known, we could have been whole again, we could have been one again. If only I had known, we would’ve soon been standing in a church in front of a priest. I would’ve looked into your deep eyes with so much love as we vowed to love each other in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer and to be true to each other until death do us part. And we would have been happier than ever before. But I didn’t know and wasn't happy. I’m sorry, Elora, I’m sorry I didn’t know.

Someone suddenly lays a shaky hand on my shoulder, your mum. She’s crying. I let go of your stiff hand and cast one last glance at your pale, greyish face before turning my gaze toward the hard parquet floor of the church. As I place a lone red rose between your hands I can’t even look at you, it hurts too much. I close my eyes in pain as I hear the faint thump of the coffin as it closes and covers your cold body. I know I’ll never see you again. That I’ll never again feel the genuine euphoria when you step into the café. That I’ll never again look into your sky blue eyes or kiss your soft, pink lips. That I’ll never again hear you say “I love you, Sadie.” Only now do I notice the tears quietly streaming down my face. Your mum pulls me into a long hug as we sit on the uncomfortable bench. It reminds me of your hugs, Elora. I don’t know how I will survive without them. I miss you so much. I’m so sorry.