Blue Roses

Fiction by Jessica Groves

He didn’t want to be my friend; was afraid I’d hurt and leave him like everyone else. But I persisted; I was so used to everyone liking me immediately that when he didn’t, it created a challenge for me. And I love challenges.

After six months of getting to know the quiet, reserved, tortured boy, he finally started to trust me. We got to know each other, little things like his favorite game, the name of his church, how he didn’t have a favorite food. But he learned a lot more about me, my favorite color, my favorite books, my past and my fears. But more specifically, my one-time-mentioned awe of blue roses.

“I’ve always wanted to see one,” I had said.

“Why?” he had asked, studying me like he had never actually seen me before.

“Because they are something that shouldn’t exist, but they do.”

Months passed. I was getting a hold of my life, just turning 18, getting my first car, my first job, my second job, going to college, making new relationships and ending them. And throughout all of this, was him, helping me and guiding me through it. I wished I had appreciated what I had while he was there.

The news came. He had to move away, had to leave me here. I didn’t realize how much I loved him until after I had learned he was going away. He admitted everything, how he learned to love how happy and optimistic I was when he could hardly see the stars on a dark night. How when everything was horrible for him, I helped him through it. He loved me, and I loved him.

He moved. I stayed. Weeks passed. Every day I missed him more. One day, he called me. Apologized for not saying it sooner. But he asked me to be his, and I really wanted to, so I told him I would wait for him, but that was all.

The longer he was gone, the sadder I became. It was like he always had half my heart, but when we were close, I didn’t notice it. But now that it was far away, here was an emptiness that only he could fill.

One day, I came home from my sorry excuse for a job, disheartened and tired. A box was laid on the porch, longer than it was wide. My heart beat faster as I read the address. I wasted no time opening it, and gasped when I saw its contents. Inside was the most beautiful bouquet of flowers I had ever seen.

A dozen blue roses. I lifted them gently, touching the soft petals, trying not to cry. He remembered. I had said it months ago, and he had remembered. I had lost my battle not to cry when I read the note that was inside.

What we have for each other is something that shouldn’t exist, but does. And I am so sorry, but I can’t help but be overjoyed about that. I love you, my Blue Rose.