Dead Flowers | H.S.

Chapter One

I had woken up early that May morning to catch the news, sand in my eyes and fatigue in my bones. My parents had just come home from the station and were milling around the kitchen, pouring coffee and rubbing eyes. I caught just the last bit of the forecast from the stairs, pressing my forehead against the cool wall.

The old man, that had been bald for as long as I could remember, seemed winded as he pointed to the flimsy backdrop with shaking hands.

"No rain, no shine in Point Pleasant today."

It was the first day in a week it hadn't rained, and the sun would not shine. If I were her, I would not shine down on Point Pleasant either. I would let clouds layer the sky in wisps of white and gray and cast an ancient light upon our sidewalks and brick houses.

I wondered, then, just as my mother turned the stove on to fry bacon for my father, if the sun did not shine because she knew that nobody in Point Pleasant deserved it. The entire town was gray, and not even the yellow rays of a warming sun could bare to shed her light on us. It would shine on a small town of people who scowled and covered their eyes.

On the occasions that the sun would grace us with her presence, I would stop somewhere near the shore of the river on my way home from work and bring the straps of my dress down and welcome a warm kiss. My mother had caught me, only one time, letting the sun kiss my shoulders as I played outside with my older brother. I was thirteen then, less cautious and more excitable.

She smacked my hand so fervently that it was red for an hour. I had not put up a fight, although I'd been surprised that she had done it in front of Rudy and his friend with bucked teeth.

"You keep your straps on your shoulders as they're meant to be."

I had held in my tears and ran away from my brother's game of cops and robbers under the warm sky. Kneeling by my bed, covered in the soft pink of my youth, I feverishly prayed to God that He forgive me for dishonoring Him.

Waiting inside of Howie's five years later, I stared out the dirty glass and at the empty street. Darkness had fallen and the clouds finally parted. They had no mercy for sunshine, but compassion for the white moon. Perhaps the moon pitied our town.

"You're sure you don't mind, Plain?" Winnie had asked two hours before, already clutching her purse and slipping her pink sweater over her shoulders.

I had been sitting behind the counter, two hours younger, staring vacantly at the piano on the other side of the room. Nobody had come in for hours, not since Howard had left hacking blood into the towel he always kept in his pocket.

Raising my trained eyes to her wide ones, I gave her a soft smile. She was vibrating in the doorway, legs bouncing, lips pursing.

"Of course. I'll close up."

"You're the best," she squealed, blowing me a kiss.

Asudden, her excitement peaked as she yipped and clapped her hands together. A blue VW had just pulled in front of the store and laid on their horn. Winnie was halfway in the car whenever the driver opened his door to greet her. I watched on for a moment, holding my own hands, wondering what the excitement of a first date felt like. It had been so long since I'd had one.

Just before the car zoomed off, there was another honk, and Winnie waved to me through the passenger side. The long blonde hair she had braided back was already loose and flowing down her back like a waterfall. I waved back, biting back a smile. The man driving the car, someone younger than her by a few months, was a silhouette against the backdrop of a fading day. I thought of Winnie dating a shadow, never being able to open his third dimension and always kissing the air.