No One Killed Venus Wilson

XL. QUARANTE

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Happiness was a rarity in Tyler's life now. Like a stroke of yellow that separates two greys from one another, it was stark, and evident when it occurred. It was as if God had come down personally, and split the dark cloud that loomed over Tyler's head, shining a single ray of sunshine to warm his cold body.

Happiness was something he had taken for granted. Whether it was the last slice of pizza that was solely saved for him. The sight of a rainbow after a rainy week, or soft kisses on his face to wake him from his slumber. It was all something he had taken for granted.

This odd thing that forced him to look forward to the next day was akin to the nostalgia of yesterday. If there was a reason for humans to exist, he liked to believe his sole reason for wandering this planet was reminiscing yesterday.

How did we meet again? That one question was music to his ears. Five words that compelled him into a poetic state he tried to suppress as much as he could, though it was only his journal where he would abandon the masculinity that his father had beaten into him since he was a boy. A man does not reminisce, they do not let their words flow like honey, they do not garden. But this journal was not structured around the gender norms his father had adhered to, refusing to cry like Tyler when the dog died during an exceptionally hard time in a movie.

"How did we meet again?"

"You're druuunk..."

"No, you areee."

"Your gaze intoxicated me, this room is drunk on your aura. My heart is swaying like a drunkard on a road... I'm trying, Lillyyyyyy, but why does it only sway for youuu...my sweet Lilyyyy — Tiger Lily, that's what you are!"

"You're so drunk."

Tiger Lily. Synonymous with happiness. Synonymous with love. Synonymous with a lot of things that were no longer present in his life, just like sweet Tiger Lily herself.

If happiness was anything in this world it was a flower that bloomed during the brightest moments, and wilted during the gruesome winters, arguably when a person needed it most. It was a flower, with the softest petals, one that you could crush and make into tea. It was a flower that you could give to a lover, or a friend — perhaps a mother too. It was vibrant and soft, and everything in between. Happiness was a flower and Tyler was the thorn that struck malady in the person who tried to steal Happiness, the flower, from others.

Always so close to Happiness, but never the recipient of its love. Like a thorn, he remained until he was cut off by others. Like a thorn, he stuck out like a sore sight — a reminder of the sorrows that came before Happiness, the flower. A thorn named Tyler Meyers.

"Happiness," he murmured as he put the gear in park, "the flower."

Tyler looked over to the passenger seat of the car. Instead of a rider, a worn journal occupied the space. Its worn spine, cracked and frayed, was an indication of how long it'd been since a journal entry had been written in it — and how many were hidden away with secret names and dates unique to only two people.

His fingers grazed the initials engraved into the leather cover. For a moment, he thought about how long it truly had been since he'd left all of them. Tyler may have forgotten to count the days after his untimely departure, but there was one person who hadn't.

How long had it been since Venus left? It hurt too much to think about the days. He'd stopped counting at one-hundred-and forty-seven. The snow swallowed the fallen leaves, the warm air, and blooming leaves melted the snow, and now the summer air danced between the trees and flowers that bloomed in the spring. That was all he knew. Three seasons had passed since she last walked on the very earth he roamed.