Chapter Five: Letters With Roses
Outraged with Periwinkle, I yell at her with every ounce of energy that I have left after my long walk to the gas station, which was another mile up the street from the cemetery.
"You never called me . . ." The excuse she gives makes me want to punch a hole in the wall.
"Does it matter if I called you?" I snap, narrowing my eyes. God, why does she have to be so blistering stupid?
"Yes, it does matter. But what matters most is that you're back and you're not dead." She stands in front of me, our toes almost touching. She gives me a small smile, pulling me into a hug. "I told you no one will get you," she says, joking. I feel like I don't want to joke and slap her face, but I don't say or do anything. Rubbing my back, she whispers, "How did the meeting go?" why in the bloody hell, would she think that this is funny? I'm soaking wet, frozen, and I can't feel my feet!
I push her away, staring at her like a wolf watches its prey. "Is that all you care about? The stupid meeting!" I hiss, wanting to claw her eyes out of their sockets.
"No, I also care about you. Now calm down," she pleads, looking to be worried.
Letting a sigh escape my nostrils, I walk passed her, heading to the kitchen. "There was no meeting." Opening a cabinet, I rummage through it to find some red wine. When I find a bottle, I go through drawers to look for a bottle-opener, as I find one and pop up the cap. I pace my way to the living room while slouching on the couch.
"I did take you to the right place, didn't I?" Her expression is more along the line of mystification, as she taps her chin with her index finger. She slumps down on a chair and keeps thinking.
"Yes, you took me to the right place. However, all we did was do a test to meet our interests! And it wasn't a long one. It was boring. Including annoying harp music,” I say, sort of lying. I like the music to a certain extent, but it was a bit distracting at the time. The wine goes down my throat, its intense taste tingles upon the roof of my mouth as it keeps going down into my abdominal.
"You've got to be kidding me?"
"No, I'm not. If I was, I wouldn't be this frustrated." I roll my eyes, taking more nips of the drink in my hands. I wish she could just leave me alone; not like never talk to me again, but just to stop with the nonsense of me dating. I'm fine . . . am I? I know Periwinkle and Jessie are trying to help, of course, they're my friends, but couldn't they stop prying into my love-life and let me deal with my own matters? Probably not.
Periwinkle's outbreath makes me lose my trace of thought. "Are you still going along with the dating-thing?"
When I look in her eyes this time, it makes me feel guilty. No, I don't want to go on with this senseless idea, but I'll do it anyways. I'm that kind of person: the benevolent that does what she's forced to do. Jessie and Periwinkle will ask me to do something, I'll say no, then they'll tell me that they set me up with something that I don't want to be involved with. But of course, I'll keep going along with it, because I'm easy going. Because my thoughts don't matter to anyone else. Because I want to do this. Well, I don't, but somewhere inside me, deep down, that I do want to do this, though I don't want to admit it. Not to anyone, not even to me.
"Yes." Taking another sip, I pull the small, wooden coffee table closer to me so I can put my feet up.
"I'll see you later, okay?"
“All right, bye." I wave to her as she leaves, slamming the door on her way out. Something in me doesn't want to sit around and dwell myself in wine, so I push the table back and put the bottle on it, as I walk down the steps of my basement. I don't have an attic, frankly, I'm too scared to have one. I guess I watch a lot of horror movies, involving garrets, but I shouldn't be frightened at all, since it's just another Hollywood motion picture, and it's all a sham, but something tells me that it is real. I guess my mind just wants me to be afraid. How clever is that?
My basement is large, but I don't have fancy things in here, just junk I keep in boxes. Things that would remind me of Kenton. Not long after his death, I didn't want to keep thinking of him, but I know that wouldn't happen. So I put most of his stuff in boxes, not wanting to get rid of it all. I just keep it down here until further notice. However, I like to keep the pictures of us on the walls around the house, so it doesn't seem so lonely. I don't know what else to think, if I would move on and be with someone else, if I wouldn't date at all, or if something happened to me. But all I know, is that I don't want to give it to someone else, anything of Kenton's, even the flag that was given to me after the funeral.
Picking a random box, I open it, delving around, grasping envelopes––letters from Kenton––I open one, with such dexterously as it is very old, dusted as well. I haven't seen these letters for a few years, ever since he started going. He told me he'll to write me every time he leaves.
Dear Raven,
The picture you gave me looked a little dull. You could use some sunlight, your appearance is just really pale; don't make me contact Periwinkle and Jessie! I will, you know?
Camp isn't so bad, though I have to get up early that I'm not used to. You should know that, though . . . you've been here for two years before.
God, I wish we could be together. Remember how we met? How I saw you working in the disgusting cafe place? Then I randomly asked you to go hang out at the pier. Ha, it feels just like yesterday that we did that. But actually, it's been what? Four years? Six? I can't remember! But what I miss most about you is to wake up next you and see your beautiful smile in the morning, the way your crazy hair was all over the place like you got shocked by fulguration.
I've met a couple of new friend's here, we get along pretty well. Except when we're in the shower . . . yes, one of my new acquaintances is gay. It's kind of awkward, really. He looks at us like he wants to touch us, but doesn't. Oh, and before I forget to tell you, I'm kind of cheating on you with him. Don't ask. He kissed me . . . when we first met. He thought I was gay too, by the way I look, but then I told him I had a girlfriend and he backed off; he doesn't want to make another girl feel bad, but he still plays around and acts like we're a couple around the camp. Hey, remember the song by Katy Perry? I kissed a guy . . . and I didn't like it. Well, it wasn't so bad. It just felt weird. Plus he had bad breath, so that was turn-off. Oh great, he's reading this. Help. Me. Please.
I miss you so much, Raven. I bought this rose for you, to show you how our love is strong and beautiful. Like this red flower. I hope you forgive me leaving you alone for a few months.
Sincerely,
Kenton.
I hold the rose that was included in the envelope; the flower is blackened by death, too hard to be a healthy floret. In my hand, the bud crumbles, just leaving it a stem.
Tears rush out of my eyes. I feel like a broken soul, a dead flower, a last remaining breath. There's nothing for me to do anymore, everything is ruined. My life, my fiancé, everything. Dark angels, demons, whoever––I'm their hostage, dying of a slow bereavement. Now, I'm just filled with rues and sorrow.
I rummage through the handful of letters and pick up a random one, while opening it carefully, not to tear the paper. I sniff and rub my eye with my index finger, so I can stop crying. Inhaling a breath of air, I read the next note.
Dear Raven,
Chocolate. Does it ring a bell? Ugh, of course not. No, not the color of poop though it is, but it's the shade of . . . damn. I forgot what I was going to say. Well, this is a waste of time, and no, I'm not going to erase what I have down, because I know you're laughing! And don't say my joke wasn't funny, you know it's hilarious, don't you? Wink, wink.
How have you been? What's been going on with Peri and Jess? Fredster told me that there was a fight between the three of you, over Jessie's love-life. He mentioned a guy, and something about him cheating on her and you two helping her by putting her in a dating service thing. I want to let you know, that don't pry into her life. You can help her by comforting and soothing the poor thing, but don't put her in those pathetic places for the desperate. Put yourself in her shoes, Ray.
Hey, I need to tell you something. Don't worry about anything, but I'm not going to be able to write for a while. We're being stationed out to Afghanistan, but the moment I get to write back, I will give you another letter. Love you tons, here's a rose to prove it. Goodbye my beautiful Star, I miss you so much!
Sincerely,
Kenton.
He called me Star because when he asked me to be his girlfriend, he bought me one. I thought it was cute, very weird though when he asked me because he wouldn't take no for an answer.
The red rose inside the envelope is nothing but a stem. Darkened peddles have fallen within the rectangle container, but as I pull one out, it crumbles once I touch it. I wish it weren't like this, how dwelling on the past is painful, how making myself think of Kenton is hard to not think of, how agony likes me to suffer with it. I wish I could be happy again, I wish Kenton was here with me, I wish life wasn't so hard.
Afghanistan. I shudder at the word because that's where he died, it's where the demons took his soul, his life. This was the last letter I had received from him. The last thing that was touched, that I have. I didn't receive this letter until a few weeks after his death; it came along with the condolence letter. Though for that one, a soldier didn't give it to me, I obtained the note in the mail, which came with this one, and I opened this letter first and then the commiseration afterwards. When the sympathy epistle was ajar, I thought he had written another dispatch, until I fully read it and it wasn't a communication from him, it was to show that he died in war, in Afghanistan.
When I skimmed through, I couldn't go back to normal. Well, what I was like now. Only in a more, horrible state than I am right at this second, since I've already taken notice of reality.
My nose burns and my vision is blurred by water that doesn't drop out of my eyes. I sniff once and put the letters back where they were. After, I run back upstairs and try my hardest not to sob. I head back up into my bedroom and take down a photo of Kenton and I kissing, and I slump on my bed with my back turned to the mattress, and I hold the photo to my chest and cry.
It's been a horrible month, I think. I put the picture on the nightstand, put two fingers to my lips and kiss it, while putting them on Kenton's side. "I love you," I say.