She Blooms

“How about a movie?” I ask scrolling through the options already knowing that I’ll end up watching by myself. My thumb hits the button harder each time it might break the remote any moment. “Can’t doll, big meeting in the morning.” The peck on the cheek is the last I see of Ethan before he turns over, flicks off the bedside light and “Today’s Success” Podcast begins.

I put my headphones in, seething. The bank account grows each day at the same rate as our affection dwindles.“Buy some lingerie,” “Jump in the shower with him,” my girlfriends chime in as if this is some phase or normal marriage rut, as if Ethan is the same man that stood across the alter from me and said “I do” with nothing but a 1 bedroom apartment to go home to. Nothing but money mattered anymore.

When I wake up he is sorting through his selection of ties as if we both don’t already know he’s going to pick the navy blue one like he always does on a big investment move.“Can we meet for lunch after your meeting?” Not sure why I’m even asking. “I’m skipping lunch today, going to a storage auction. Frank is making a killing on these over in Newport.” Naturally he’s too busy.“You did promise you would come with me this afternoon to pick out the granite for the new counters.” I can’t stand hearing myself grovel, twisting his arm. “You know that’s more your thing than mine.” He always has an excuse. I sit up against the upholstered headboard. “What about I check out this auction thing, it could be fun?” I can hear him exhale as he pulls the last loop through his navy tie. “Fine Sam, I’ll text you the address. But I’m not strolling Lowe’s after-ward.” And with that heartwarming goodbye he is out the door.

I hate Frank. This is the third time I’ve met him yet he still doesn’t remember my name, or acknowledge me. Ethan gives me about the same amount of attention as he escorts me down long rows of silver metal doors. A few times he nearly pushes me backwards as what seems to be an exciting door comes up and he lunges forward to place his bid. This was a waste of time, I should leave. Then they pull up the last door. The group quickly dwindles.

It seems to be all ancient furniture. A large antique roll top desk rests right in the front. “That’s it for the day” shouts the manager as he reaches up to the handle to close the door when I turn to Ethan. “I want this one.” He turns to look over his shoulder as if I could possible be talking to someone else. “What would you want this junk for?” He gestures irritated. “I can’t make money on this nonsense.” The manager drops his arm from the handle, “Auction is over, do you want it or not?” “This can be a project for me, maybe I can restore this furniture.” I say holding my breath. “I don’t want to just throw money away. Wasn’t the house remodel, kickboxing, piano lessons, photography club enough?” If he was around at all, or we could have started a family like we used to talk about, I would have never asked for any of those things. He notices when my hand instinctually touches my stomach. “Yes we want it,” reaching around his back pocket for his wallet. “Let’s settle up in the office.”

The antique desk has a thick layer of dust across the top. Imagine how out of place it would look next to my baby grand piano! I open the top drawer, and tucked inside is a small black note-book. The cover is weathered but when I open the cover the script handwriting is perfectly pre-served as if halted in time. “My darling Rose. I cannot sleep with the thought of your fair skin soundly resting next to mine. I can simply watch you breathing steadily in amazement that the most generous angel from heaven has brought you to me….”

“Here’s the lock for your new treasures” Ethan jerks me to attention as he tosses me a heavy metal lock. I catch it in one hand and slip the black notebook into my back pocket with the other. “See you for dinner?” I ask stupidly. “Order something you like, don’t go crazy in case marketing comes in with pitches as flat as last month.” He pecks me on the cheek before he is swiftly turn-ing on his heel and I hear the chirp of his car unlocking.

I step through the front door and straight to the bathroom to wash my face. I scrub my cheeks until they burn. I hold the towel against my face thinking If I could erase every peck he has ever given me I would.

I settle on the couch and return to the mysterious script handwriting of the notebook-

“Oh my Rose, the pen nearly slips from my fingers from all the grease, but I can’t imagine taking a break from the garage to eat when I haven’t seen you for 5 hours. The cars keep rolling in, never this many before the war. I work well and quickly, but I count the moments until your hand is in mine again…”

The front door opens and my head jerks up. It is dusk. How long have I been reading? Ethan heads straight up the stairs. When I enter the bedroom the suitcase is already open on the bed. “What’s going on?” Hot tears form behind my eyes. “I have to catch a flight to Seattle tonight. A big investor is about to pull and he wants the new projections in person.” I struggle to respond, “Tomorrow is Stephanie’s birthday, you have to be there.” I see his jaw clench, “Why do you put me in these impossible positions Sam? There will be other parties and we will all get on with our lives” I can’t hold the tears back anymore, “Is that what you want, to get on with your life Ethan?” He stares down at his bags and finally replies, “After this quarter, I’ll take you away, somewhere wonderful, you make the plans ok?”

Tonight the bed isn’t lonely, I lay beneath the silk sheet with the company of Walter and Rose.

“14 Scenic View, It is finally ours. 14, my favorite number, the day you were born. The patio wraps around the front where I’ll hang your swing. My Rose, my darling, I will work tirelessly to till the yard for your garden, so each morning you can gaze at the beauty I see next to me every day that the Lord allows me to wake…”

I get up from the bed and open the closet. I pull out a stack of Hallmark cards from Ethan. Anni-versary, birthday, valentines. I can see his secretary placing the card in front of him as he signs his name, nothing more. I pick up the stack and toss them into the trash can.

“My Rose grows more delicate each day. We are expecting a child. I spend less hours at the garage as I tend to her. At night I lay with my hands upon her stomach and pray that the Lord spare my Rose and allow me to bare the weight of this growing gift…”

When the sun rises I jump in the car and head East. As I exit the city the homes become his-toric. 14 Scenic View is the only home with a realtors sign. The voice on the other line seems confused. “Scenic View? Are you sure?” “Yes.” I confirm, impatient. “I’ll wait.” The realtor arrives in a yellow blouse that is far too frilly and a tight pencil skirt. Im surprised her heels can navigate the overgrown grass as we head up the stoop. The wrap around porch is sagging. The inside is no better. Heavy beams exposed with no insulation. The roof has sunken in.

“I want it.” Ms. Pencil Skirt looks amazed. She gazes at my Porsche through the window and adds, “I have other homes, beautiful colonials…” The floor boards squeak as I turn around and ask her what papers I need to sign to buy 14 Scenic View Drive.

My phone is ringing over and over as I pack up my bags. The voicemails start to stack up. “what the hell is going on?” “What is this escrow debit?” “Call me back NOW SAM.” “Im shutting down your bank account.”

It takes the whole first day just to clean the downstairs. Once the dust clears I head to the stor-age to salvage what I can use, a rug, a mattress and a lamp is enough for now.

“Finally I am without words. I sit in my chair and stare at the fireplace asking God to forgive me for being so selfish and wanting my Rose and my son here with me. He has called for them, and I am afraid I am no man at all without her. I saw my precious boy for only a moment. And now I will never hold my darling and feel her breath against my chest again. Dear Lord my Rose belongs with me, I promised her forever…”

His words hit me like a brick wall, and I sob uncontrollably. What am I doing? Maybe there are no happy endings, maybe we do just get through life and that’s it. I don’t know how long I cry before I fall asleep but the room feels dark knowing that this is where Walter’s heart had broken forever.

Next I sell the Porsche and head to the hardware store. There’s a shed in the back yard with some tools and each day I do what I can. Hammering, sanding, walking back and forth to town for lumber and supplies. Ethan has cut off all my access to money, after buying a refrigerator and a microwave, I’m afraid I’ll be left with a drafty house and a leaking roof.

But each night I continue to read on-

“I have been promoted to salesman at the garage. As my body begins to fail this new position suits me. I work countless hours to keep my mind from the sorrow of my beloved taken too soon. I try to work on the house, but my knees ache and my hands shake as I hold the tools. I have never had the pleasure of raising a child, or a love greater than my Rose. So I leave all that I am worth in the attic. Someday a soul brighter then mine and a body more fit can take my wealth when they may need it most. As my hand shakes I am afraid this is my last entry.”

I look up from the notebook and sit in silence. What does this mean? This man I feel I have grown to know so well who has spoken eloquently to me for months has me confused. I quickly head upstairs pulling the string to the attic and carefully climb the shaky ladder.

It is empty. I look around and find nothing at all. Until my flashlight hits a corner in the room where I see a tiny carving in the floorboard. When I reach down, etched in the plank from what looks like a pocket knife is a small rose. The floor board comes up easily. Inside a brown dusty envelope is a large sum of money. I count it one, twice, and three times I’m still in shock. $20,000.

Somehow my feet carry me down the stairs and I sit on the mattress on the floor, paralyzed. And then suddenly as if it’s been clear all along, I grab the notebook and a pen and begin to write.

“Hi Walter, each day slowly the home improves. Once the porch is painted, I plan to hang Rose’s swing…”