all the white flowers in the world

Ahri

The young lady in front of him was Ahri's daughter. Alice, she'd said, My name is Alice.

Alice the curious, Alice the brave, Alice the smart, the wonder child. Alice, the character from Ahri's favorite book, and she'd said that even her name sounded magical. Alice. What a proper name for Ahri's daughter.

He knew that the young lady just lost her mother.

He was in his office when a message in the alumni group chat informed about Ahri. He wasn't sure what's on his mind when he received that news. He felt bad, that she passed away at such a young age. Ahri was his classmate, the same age as him. He couldn't imagine if he were to leave, there were so many things he still wanted to do. What about his wife and children? His family? The thought of leaving them dreaded him.

He regretted not visiting Ahri when she was still alive. They were in the same city after all. He'd heard about her from time to time when he was younger, but the news about old friends quickly turned scarce. He never saw Ahri in reunions, but then again, he also didn't go to them. It wasn't exactly that they lost contact. It was simply they'd drifted apart along with the fading years.

Nobody knew Ahri was ill, so when the news of her passing appeared, the alumni group chat was flooded with condolences. He also sent one condolence in that group chat even though he thought it was utterly gibberish. Who would read those monotonous messages? Ahri's family wouldn't see them.

Ahri's family.

Her daughter had asked to meet him on new year's eve. He said yes, because Ahri was his friend, and he would like to personally offer his condolences, even though it wasn't a proper one. He didn't think too much about the meaning of the meeting. He had a good guess, but he always thought it wasn't some secret. He and his wife, back then his fiancée, used to tell each other their story.

"I had three exes," his fiancée said one day on their date.

"You're so weird. Who else discusses exes on a date?" he replied with a slight annoyance, but mostly amused.

"You're marrying me. You need to know about me," she firmly said.

"Well, I don't care about your exes. I'm not marrying them." She laughed at his deadpan delivery.

"Tell me about your ex. I bet you have many."

He told her that he only had one ex-girlfriend, and she laughed, jokingly said it was a waste of his good look.

"Is she pretty? Your ex?" she asked.

"She's pretty. Are you jealous?"

Her laughter was amplified. "Girls are pretty. I'll be forever jealous of the youth she spent with you."

***

Ahri's daughter was a spitting image of her.

Except for her height, she was everything Ahri was. From smooth black hair without frizz, to her wide, curious eyes. Back then, he loved to study Ahri's eyes, which seemed like an expansive library of wonders.

"Stop staring," she said. They were seventeen, second year of high school, a pair of young lovers.

"You look serene when you read," he replied. Serene, the word she liked to use when she described him. Ahri disliked it when people addressed him as cold, or distant, or arrogant. For her, he was always serene.

"Tell me about something, something you read from the encyclopedia you borrowed this week." He lowered his head so that he could watch as she read.

"I read about flowers. My mother has a garden full of flowers," she said without lifting her eyes from the book.

"Oh, something-something the language of flowers?"

She nodded. "I knew many of it already, like although generally roses symbolize love, different colors have different meanings. I think spider lilies are the coolest. Red spider lily means to forget, although it's so vibrant and merry, I didn't think the meaning would be that sad."

"I'd rather give you roses. The red one that you like so much," he muttered.

"Roses are simple. Red rose is the simplest one, yet I think the beauty lies in its simplicity." She closed her book and put her palms on her cheeks.

"I'll give you one on your birthday. Every birthday," he said in his usual calm voices.

"I always have red roses in my garden, you know." Ahri laughed, her oh so bright laughter which warmed his cheeks and the tip of his fingers. Ahri's laughter was like a lighter to him, a small flame licked all over his being. At that time, he was so sure he would love her forever. When you're young you just liked the idea of forever.

He didn't love her forever.

And she had her daughter, just like he had his children.

"My mother," the young lady paused, her eyes–Ahri's eyes–frantically searched for something, some words she could latch on a sentence. Did she want to ask him about his relationship with Ahri?

"My mother and you...." He watched her glossy eyes, so familiar to him years and years ago. Jumbled memories tugged on him, like wild mushrooms sprang after a rain shower. He thought of graduation day, Ahri's hair tied in a ponytail, the red ribbon she'd tied on his left wrist.

"Promise me that you'll call. We will be so far apart." There were no tears on her eyes, but a determination was evident there.

He had nodded his head at her request, and for almost a year he complied with it. Then time happened, and as it went by, Ahri started to shrink in his mind, only occupied a small space in the raging field of assignments and works and everything in between. His family wasn't doing well at that time, and his part-time jobs hadn't allowed him to do much for Ahri. He wasn't a good lover when that time came, it was unfair to her. He had tried, but even for him who had loved Ahri for four years ever since he saw her in first grade of high school, had truly in love and cherished her, time was cruel.

"We were young," he took the burden of words from the young lady. Alice. Ahri's daughter.

"Like other people, we were young and in love. Like other people, we stopped being in love." At this word, he caught her flinching and biting her lower lip, as if his words were hurting her. So much like Ahri when she was angry.

He had almost no memory of grown-up Ahri. In his mind, Ahri would always be as old as twenty, the last time he saw her on a rare occasion when both of them attended a reunion. She was lovely as ever, baby blue shirt and plain trousers. They'd broken up for a year, and they were still awkward at that time.

"Friends?" he asked her when they went home.

She smiled and nodded. "Friends."

Her last word to him was that. Friends. They didn't contact each other after that. Now that he remembered the little detail, his heart softened.

His first love. His whole youth.

In the end, she was truly a dear friend to him.