Tulips

I wrote this after my dad brought home tulips for my step mom and left them on the table. They were the same as the one described in this, and I had never seen such tulips before. Maybe I'm just not up to date in the flower world?

Tulips

She felt the warm blast of air rush by as a car flew down the street, tires kicking up the water on the road. The drops landed at her feet, mixing with the rain that was pouring down from the sky as though someone had ripped open a hole that could never close. The cool drops were such a contrast to the previously warm air, which dissipated without a trace as the rain persisted, chilling her to the bone. A girl stared back at her in the window, a pale shadow. Her cheeks were sunken, dark rings around red eyes, pale face with bright red, freshly bleeding lips. Brown hair hung down to the girls shoulders in wet strands, drop after drop dripping from the ends. Her shoulders hunched, as if the girl was trying to keep out the world and keep herself in at that same time. That was her. Her own reflection looked back at her, empty, expressionless. If she didn’t feel her heart beating in her chest she would think the reflection was a ghost.

Tilting her face to the sky she let the water mingle with fresh tears, closing her eyes against the cloudy gray. She couldn’t bear to think of him, yet she couldn’t go a moment without his face imprinted in her mind, his smile seared onto the backs of her eyelids.

She faced the street, her eyes closed and arms limp at her sides. Perhaps she should just step out a little? ‘Stumble’ into the street as though she had tripped?

He smiled at her, his lips parting over his white teeth. Brown hair, a few shades darker then her own, fell just above his chocolaty brown eyes. His eyes. They were filled with warmth and love, all for her and no one else, endless passion and emotion poured from every glance. He reached up, cupping her cheek in one hand and taking her’s with the other. His warmth burned into her face, like the slap of warm water after a cold, snowy winter day. She could feel it, feel him, there with her. He smiled again, leaning in so close his breath whispered across her lips, but with a laugh he turned to the side and pecked her on the cheek, grinning as he pulled away. She almost smiled; he always tricked her like that.

A blaring horn cut through her mind, pulling her thoughts and body together. A car roared past, washing a spray of cold, dirty water over her. She stumbled back in surprise, her cold fingers touching her cheek, where his lips had been only seconds ago. She held them there for a moment, willing the warmth of his kiss to seep back through her skin, grace her again with a feeling she hadn’t felt since before. Before. Before he had gone away.

The pain jolted through her heart, jumpstarting it. She clutched her chest, gasping and collapsing to her knees. Sobs racked her body; wails startled those passing by with umbrellas bent against the wind. The split second of his presence, his warmth, his memory…had brought back her feeling, opened up her sealed off heart and drug forward all of the pain she had shoved away for so long. Hot tears spilled forth, blurring her vision and threatening to never cease.

A hand touched her shoulder, small fingers pulling on her wet shirt. Taking deep, shaking breathes, she looked up, wiping her eyes for the first time in days. A little boy stood, looking at her with a look of interest. His wide brown eyes spoke of childlike innocence, all knowing and yet knowing so little. She waited for him to say something, but he just stared, eyes looking deep into hers. His brown hair ruffled in the wind, covering his eyes for a moment, before wiping back again. The rain lessened, small drops falling here and there, surrounding them with sounds of a mid-summer drizzle.

She looked for his mother or father, but the street was empty, the sunlight reflecting off the drops making the only movement. She opened her mouth to ask him where he had come from, if he was lost, but he put a small finger to his lips, smiling a sly smile. She paused, confused. She felt like she had seen him somewhere before, like she knew him.

Before she could say anything in protest, the boy handed her a flower. She looked down at the flower that had been handed to her, a beautiful yellow tulip with burnt orange markings, the color of a summer sunset. The light green stem stood straight and tall in her fingers as she stood up, pushing her long hair away from her face and turning to thank the boy. He was nowhere in sight, the street bustling with people who had been elsewhere a moment ago. For a moment she looked for him, but the flower took her attention away. She knew where she had to go.

The path she had forsaken for exactly a year, to the day, was before her, the rain long gone and the sun’s rays reaching around the earth. The cold statues stood around her, posed with hands folded and wings outstretched. She tried not to let them shake her resolve as she walked, slowly but surely, to the fifth row, six spaces in. The stone before her was a rose colored marble, small tulips etched into the sides, weaving around the letters forever carved onto its smooth surface.

Here lies R.J.B

Beloved Son and Caring Husband

July 17, 1980-July 17, 2005

She leaned over, placing the sunset tulip onto the bright, fresh green grass in front of the tombstone. For a moment she stayed completely still, staring at the initials, her heart beating loudly. She blinked, sitting down and leaning her back against the cold stone, turning her face up to the warm sun. The tulip rested next to her, a shining gold, diamond ring slipped onto its stem. A tear slid down her face, tracing her jaw line as her eyes closed slowly, a small smile passing over her lips. “I love you,” she whispered. Breathing deeply she opened her eyes again, smiling sadly up into the sky, tears falling freely. “Happy 26^th Birthday.”

She knew where she had seen the little boy before. A photo album, years old, in his parent’s attic.