• Roses


    My parent’s died when I was seven, those unforgettable days in the hospital left scars on my heart, but are slowly healing. Now I’m reliving those days again, with my grandfather.

    Standing in front of the coffin before it gets lowered into the ground I say my final goodbye. I’m the only one here, besides the priest and the men who have to put the coffin in the grave.

    From this day on, I’ll be living on my own. I could stay at a friend’s house, but that’s not necessary. Not when I know how to cook and I already have a job so I’m set. I won’t need to depend on anyone anymore.

    ~Two Months Later~

    Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I do need somebody. Since I work from home on the computer I haven’t had much interaction with anybody in the last four weeks or so. I think I’ll go insane if I don’t meet somebody!

    As if on cue, the doorbell rang and sounded throughout my one-bedroom apartment. I walked over to the door and looked through the peephole. It was a man, who looks about my age, carrying a single rose.

    I opened the door and he handed me the blood red rose.

    “Who are you?”

    He smiled and I felt my face redden.

    “I’m Dean. I’ve lived here for about two months now and I haven’t had the courage to ask you this but…would you have dinner with me tonight?”

    I’ve noticed him before, walking around the halls when I had to do errands, but never talked to him.

    “I’d love to.”

    His smile spread wider across his face and he said his goodbye and left.

    “I have dinner tonight. Guess I’ll have to change my plans.”

    I changed into a teal dress that was knee length. After I was finished with my hair and make-up, the bell rang again. He didn’t even set a time.

    “Good evening.”

    He was dressed in black pants, a white shirt, and a tie. In his hand he held a rose. This time it was a yellow rose.

    “For you.”

    He handed me the rose and I quickly placed it in the vase next to the red rose. I grabbed my shawl and purse and walked off to dinner, hand in hand with Dean.

    * * *

    Everyday since I met Dean, he has left me a single rose on my doorstep every morning before he leaves for school. Since I dropped out of school and work full time from my house, I look forward to the rose. My vase quickly got filled and I had to start another one, then another and another. Soon my house was filled and smelled like roses.

    It’s been about three months since Dean and I went out on our first date, and my feelings grow stronger everyday.

    Once again, like everyday after school gets out, Dean rings my doorbell and waits eagerly with a smile.

    “Hello.”

    I smile and kiss him on the lips. He lifts me up and carries me onto the bed. He lays above me, on all fours, and kisses down my neck and lifting my shirt up as he goes down farther.

    He pulls my shirt off, then his over his head. He slips off my skirt and after I build up enough courage, unbuckle his pants and slide down his pants. I prop myself on my elbows to kiss him again.

    * * *

    “I’m pregnant.”

    I practice telling Dean in the mirror that I’m pregnant. How could I tell him? He has his whole life ahead of himself.
    The familiar sound rings through the apartment and I slowly open the door.

    “Dean, we need to talk.”

    His face went solemn, as if he thinks I’m about to break up with him, but those thoughts are far from my mind.

    I lead him through the hallway and into the dining room gesturing for him to sit down. After we’re both settled and about an hour of silence, I gather up enough courage to tell him the news.

    “Dean, I’m pregnant.”

    His face lights up and smiles, as if he’s relieved.

    “That’s great!”

    I smile and he kisses me.

    “I’m going to a football game tonight so I guess we can’t have dinner together.”

    Even though I’m disappointed, I smile and tell him to go and that I’ll be all right.

    He kisses me one last time, but before he leaves, he gets down on one knee and I suddenly can’t breathe.

    “Isabel, will you marry me?”

    My heart stops, and then races one hundred times faster.

    I furiously nod my head, tears spilling on my cheeks.

    “Yes! I will Dean!”

    He swoops me up and gives me another kiss before heading out to the game.

    * * *

    I’m standing in front of a coffin. Lying in it is the one person I was dreading.

    Dean.

    Sobs break free from my chest. That drunk driver is going to pay!

    On the way to the game, Dean got hit by a drunk driver, his friend survived but Dean wasn’t as lucky.

    That same pain came flooding back, except this time, it will leave a permanent scar on my heart and nothing or no one will be able to heal it.

    “Isabel, Dean wrote this for you, in case anything would happen to him.”

    Dean’s mother, Beth, handed me a letter.

    Isabel,

    If anything should happen to me, I want you to know that I love you and my feelings will never change. Hopefully you won’t be reading this for years to come, or you might me reading this sooner than I think.
    At the time I heard you were pregnant I was thrilled! At that moment I knew it would be perfect to get married and raise our child. We will grow old together and die together, hopefully that all turns out well.
    But as I said before, if I should die before the baby is born, do something for me. Raise that child and make sure it has the best life it can have. And one more thing, I don’t want you to feel like you can’t love again. Don’t feel guilty if you fall for another, I want you to be happy and healthy and live a long meaningful life. I love you, don’t you forget that I will always love you.

    Dean


    I press the letter to my chest and another round of sobs came out. Dean, I will fulfill your wishes, but I’ll never love again. You are the only one for me and that is that.

    * * *

    Everyday, I visit Dean’s grave. Everyday I sit there and think. Everyday I cry. Everyday I place a single red rose, like the first one Dean had given me those few months ago.


    ~4 Years Later~

    “Mommy I love you.”

    “I love you too, Sam. Now go to bed.”

    I walked out of Sam’s room and closed the door. He’s the spitting image of his father. The man I loved and still do.

    Dean.