In the Language of the Flowers

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✾ Crocus ✾

Sometimes, I hear the sound of his heart monitor in my dreams. But in my nightmares, the sound is long and sharp like a knife. It digs into the deepest parts of me--the places I'd only ever let Beau go--and carves them up. 

Other times, it's just Beau sitting in a dark room. When he sees me, he stands up and calmly approaches me. I'm afraid of him. I still love him, but I'm afraid. He fluidly pushes that same knife into my chest, smooth like silk. It sinks into my skin, and I watch. 

"I need it to wake up," he explains as he carves my heart out, smiling sweetly.

And I always agree. I let him take it. When he disappears into the light, I'm left in the dark room. Alone. 

My father was in some of them, too. Not like he used to be. Now, it wasn't me he was hurting. It was Beau. The black car. Adrian Beech's angry green eyes as he turned the wheel toward Beau. My father's smug expression. It was the pool of helplessness I fell into each night that truly scared me. It was the same way I'd felt when Beau was in a coma. And now...

I'd wake up drenched in sweat. The sheets, too. I could barely ever breathe. There was always a moment I thought it had all been a lie. From the start. Beau had never really been on that roof. He'd never followed me to Florida. He'd never told me he loved me. He'd never unlocked my cage. 

"Hana, you're daydreaming again." 

I blinked awake. "Oh. Sorry." 

She looked concerned. "You do that a lot lately," she said. 

"I'm fine, Oka-san," I said, drinking from my elegant glass. The restaurant hummed quietly around us. People in these sorts of places only ever whisper. 

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more," she said. 

"Mom, you did plenty," I said, a little surprised at our sudden shift in tone and topic. "If you ask me, more than enough." 

"I did too much?" she asked. 

"What are we talking about?" Beau asked, sliding back down beside me. 

"That was fast," I observed. 

He shrugged. "So, what lovely lunchtime conversation are we having?" 

Mom smiled. "Hana says I did too much. I'm worried I didn't do enough." 

Beau's eyes practically bugged out of his head. "Not enough?" He looked at me, astounded. "Is she kidding me?" 

I nodded. "I know." 

"Ai, you paid for my hospital bills. All of them." 

"Oh, but baby money is no object for me. You know that," she said. 

"And everything you've done to move my case along, lawyers and..." He shook his head. "And that's not to mention the rent you've been paying for how long?" Beau continued. 

"Like I said, money is no-"

"And you called me your son." 

I stared at Beau. He looked like he was trying awfully hard to keep his composure. 

"What?" Mom asked, a little breathless. 

"You called me your son-in-law. I know you said it lightly, but it was important to me. Like...I get to have a mom again," Beau said. He stared at the ground. 

Mom looked at me, her eyes wide. I was just as shocked. I really hadn't thought about it like that, but, of course, Beau would feel that way. 

"Oh, sweet boy," she said quietly. She stood up suddenly, her chair screeching on the floor. Some of the people around us glanced awkwardly at us; it was quite a treat to watch my mother be the one to induce the vomit-on-guccis face, for once. "Give me a hug," she said.