Crimson on a Black Rose
By:
C. Desert Rose
of
All Authors Publishing House™
©Copyright 2014 C. Desert Rose & All Authors Publishing House
A droplet of blood on a black rose. That was all I had left of him.
How did we get here?
What happened?
That was it—just a single drop of crimson blood on a rose as dark as the abyss of my heart.
How quickly had our love wilted. As rapidly as this tattered rose eventually would, I was sure. And just as swiftly, I’d lost my will to go on.
His voice…
I can still hear it clearly for some reason. “Rayne, baby,” he whispered, his warm breath tickling the miniscule hairs of my inner ear, making rivers of chills flow all over my body. “I love you.”
Why is it that memories can sometimes be as genuine as reality—sometimes feel just as authentic?
How odd.
When I close my eyes I relive each moment. Feeling the touch of his fingers on my skin, his warm breath teasing my lips, his tepid body pressed against my back spooning me with care. “I love you too Jay.”
Memories spring up of a certain tenderness in my voice whenever I spoke to him, yet now I wonder if it was just a figment of my imagination or if it actually happened. I know what I felt inside. He made me weak. He had this magical effect on me, the kind that always made a girl feel like she was dreaming and wasn’t quite there. That feeling that you get when you’re deeply in love—it’s that inexplicable flare that makes you think that you’re not really there, but it’s all just a dream.
That was the type of connection we had, Jay and I.
It’s funny to me, because in retrospect our romance seemed something like a montage of a romantic movie. The ones where the extraordinarily happy couple bask and skip in a field of green, with puffy clouds and a perfectly sunny day to accompany them. Where white linens aimlessly and uselessly float around while they hold hand and kiss delicately, love filling their eyes.
Was it really that way?
I don’t know—but that’s what it felt like, and for me, that was enough.
Remembrance arises of the day that he made me his; heart, mind, body and soul.
“Rayne, do you believe in love?”
“Um. I guess,” I said, pausing to consider his question. “I mean, it’s not like my parents really loved each other—with the constant fighting and cheating and whatnot—so it’s not like I had a real good example. But I guess it could be real, cause movies and books swear that it is,” I finished, shrugging my shoulders.
He nodded his response, thinking about my reply, then continued, “Well, I don’t know… but- well- look, it’s like this,” he scratched his hair, fingers intertwining with soft brown curls. He dropped his gaze to the ground, then looked up at me with a quick glance, and dropped his eyes to the floor again. “Rayne, I’m in love with you.” He finished timidly.
My mouth dropped open. I forced myself to close it before I drooled all over my new shirt. Plus, what guy would find a drooling twit sexy? “Really?”
A perplexed look crossed his face. He shoved his hands into his jean pockets. “Really?” He asked rhetorically, echoing my stupid question. “Is that all you have to say?”
“Oh!” I blinked, snapping myself out of the stupefied gaze that I’d somehow fallen into. “Oh- I’m- I’m sorry. I mean… Um…” I felt like a shy child, one that was about to divulge a big secret and was both happy and uncomfortable about it. “I think I love you too.”
“Yeah?” He asked, a wide smile crossed his beautiful face.
“Yeah!” I affirmed. “Question: if you can’t stop thinking of someone all day long, and are always wondering where they are and what they’re doing, is that love?” I threw my hand up before he could answer. “Wait. Not done. So, like, if all you can do is think and think, and daydream and daydream, and want to be with them all day, every day; that’s love? Like, if that person has more importance in your life than you do?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but before he could I’d already jumped in his arms and kissed him roughly. A complete and utter oaf. Yet, he didn’t seem to mind.
Breaking from my kiss for a fraction of a moment he replied, “Yeah. I think it is.” I giggled, and he covered my curled lips with his, kissing me even before I’d finished giggling.
You know that anxious, excited feeling that a girl gets when she has the enlightening revelation of love? That giddy, ‘I can’t believe this is happening to me’ sort of sensation that makes you romp around like a kid in a candy store? Yes. That’s the feeling. That’s what it was like.
For four years—my four high school years—Jay and I spent every day together. We were inseparable. As the matter of fact, whenever people spoke of he and I, they automatically referred to us as a unit.
When they said Rayne, they meant Rayne and Jay. And when they said Jay, they meant Jay and Rayne. It was just how things were. More than that, we were happy.
Where did time go?
Where did he go?
I remember…
He and I were sitting in his 1999 Geo Metro—a hand-me-down car that his father had given him—and gazed out at the lake. It was enormous. As the matter of fact, it looked more like a beach. Just he and I. Dawn was at its cusps, overcasting us with its lovely purple and blue tinge. Not at dark cloud in the sky. The horizon was lit with hints of pink and red, and at its very end dark blue threatened to advance.
Jay had his arm around me, and I was tucked into his warmth. It was an excellent sensation. Like—at the risk of sounding weird—a chick in a momma hen’s breast. There was this perception of belonging. I loved it. Even the thought of it now causes a warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“So, what are we going to name our kids?”
“Kids?” I asked in surprise. Was I pregnant and didn’t know it?
“Yes, our kids. I mean, we do plan on having kids in the future, right? I see three boys and a girl.”
“Are you gonna push them out?” I asked, sarcasm bathing my words. He laughed heartily. “No. I didn’t think so either. One boy and one girl. Twins.”
“Twins. I like the sound of that. Jay Jr and Jayvonna.”
“Jayvonna? What the hell are you thinking? Do you want to ruin her life?” He chuckled again. “Jay Jr. and Rayne Jr.” I finished matter-of-factly.
“Rayne Jr.? Really?”
“Yeah really!”
“Okay. Fair enough.” His complacent behavior was funny. He just went with the flow of whatever I said. It was the best relationship ever.
Where did we go wrong?
Then came that day... that fateful day that changed everything.
I’d noticed for sometime that Jay was giving me lots of excuses. I’d call and ask if I could come over, and he’d be ‘too busy’. He’d come over then have to leave early because of ‘work’. Whenever he was hanging out with his friends, I could no longer come with—he 'needed space' he’d tell me.
My best friend had warned me. “Rayne, just keeps your eyes open. When guys act funny like that, something is up.”
I’d never been one to question anyone, especially him. I trusted him completely. Why should I distrust him? He'd never given me a reason to... until now.
A few days later, I saw them.
It was drizzling and Mom asked me to pick some milk up. So borrowing my big brothers black hoodie, so as not to get rained on, I was totally blanketed by it. I was about to cross the street to the QuickMart, and made a pause at the stop light before leaping across. It started raining harder.
His Geo was turning at the corner of the road, right at the stop light that I needed to get pa
st in order to enter the QuickMart. It stopped at the light, only ten feet from where I stood.
There was a girl in his car. A girl I didn’t know.
At first thought, I figured it was a co-worker that he was taking home. Maybe he’d just forgotten to tell me. Then I thought, Why wouldn’t he tell me? My next reaction was to peak in the car. I saw them talking. She seemed like she was flirting—batting her eyes and smiling like a dimwit.
I saw him reach out and put his hand on her left leg, then he slid it up. Before I knew it, his hand was up her short skirt. Her eyes closed with seduction and her lips curled with delight. She reached her hand and grabbed his crotch. Then she bent in and kissed him like a ravage lioness.
My jaw dropped. My eyes abruptly began to sting with tears. A knot rose in my throat and I felt like I was gonna puke.
The rain began to come down harder.
I wanted to run up to his car and bang at the windows, scream at them both, make them hear me, feel my wrath. But, I couldn’t. I was frozen in place; and when my body finally reacted, the light changed and they zoomed off.
That day something inside of my head clicked. No… it flipped!
It was like I, Rayne, died, and Vengeance, my twin sister bounced to life inside of my head. Sleep did not find me that night, food had no appeal, the colors of the world around me turned gray and lifeless. I sat in my bed that night, sitting in an upright fetal position, and rocked nonstop. Sun up to sun down; a million and one things floating around in my mind.
As soon as the sun came up—still I wore my brother's black hoodie, not having changed since the moment I saw them—I jumped out of bed taking the untouched milk money my mother had given me and took a dark, gothic, emotional stroll to the local florist.
“Half dozen black roses please,” Unwillingly, it came out as more of a demand than a request.
“Black?” Asked the older Asian man in a heavy accent. I nodded. “You pretty girl. You need white. Red maybe.” He insisted.
“Black!”
At my demand he nodded his head and fetched my request. Without thanking him, or saying so much as another word, I exited.
The very next thing I remember is banging on the door like a crazy woman. I was sure to be admitted to the loony bin after this. But I needed to hand him these black roses and tell him that this reflected the color of my heart due to the hurt he’d caused. It was the mania that drove me. He had to know!
His voice was groggy when he answered the door. “Who is it?”
“Me,” my voice wasn’t my own. Shoot, my mind wasn’t my own, for crying out loud!
“Rayne? What the-” When he answered the door he was shirtless, eyes heavy with sleepiness, hair a tangled mess. “What are you doing here so early in the morning?” He slurred.
I pushed through, into his living room. “Rayne. What the hell is going on with you?” Pulling the black roses out from behind me, I threw them at him. They hit the ground in front of him. “What the hell is that?” He asked appalled.
“My heart, you egocentric, inconsiderate, heart stomping, asshole!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.
“Sh! What are you doing?” He demanded, suddenly jolting to life. He got desperate and uncomfortable.
“That’s what you did to my heart! That!”
His eyes flew open, his hand went up in defense. “Rayne! Sh! Lower your voice! My roommates are asleep!”
“Fuck ’em! Let them hear me! I saw you Jay! I saw you… with her!” Disbelief covered his face. Surprise made his tensed face go pale. “Yeah! That’s right! You had your hand up her skirt! She grabbed your crotch, Jay! Your crotch!” I accused. “You guys kissed! You’ve never kissed me like that! Why Jay? Why?”
It was like a bolt of lightning. A blur. Out of nowhere a figure rushed in. I saw him suddenly strain even harder than he had just been. He was taut but it wasn’t of stress, but of pain. He gasped. Then dropped to his knees, almost immediately he fell face forward.
There she was. Dagger in hand. Rage written on her face. Her eyes lit with fury. The roses were crushed with the weight of his droopy body. All but one—that one, had a respective drop of his blood.
So here I am. This is what I have left of him. A black rose with a single driblet of blood. That’s all I have left me my beloved Jay.
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For another short story by C. Desert Rose, give
“A Tragedy: The Short Story of Fox & Tango”
available at
Blurb:
Hot and heavy declarations of love. Color coded separation of M&M's. Sprinkles of sarcasm here and there. A typical day in the romance of Fox and Tango. When disaster rips Tango from her arms will she survive the ocean of her emotional torment or will Fox drown in the waves of tragedy?