Black Roses

Chapter 8

Present Day

I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was my laptop blinking. I rubbed my eyes tiredly as I yawned. I looked at the screen. I'd stopped at my date. My very first date. With the love of my life.

I laid my head heavily on my hands as I searched in my head for that memory. What happened?

I rubbed my face tiredly before my fingers flew across the keyboard. A laughing scream emanated from one of my apartment rooms and I got out of my chair and wobbled to the room. My feet still hurt even after four and a half years of therapy.

I opened the door and saw my two four-year-old twins biffing each other in the head with a foam baseball bat.

'James, Jonathan! Stop it!'

Both of them looked up at me with their father's eyes. Strange dark blue eyes. Yes. Chris Rivers and my DNA created these two beautiful boys. They had my hair but their face structure and eyes are exactly like their father.

'But momma…' Jonathan's lower lip trembled. James poked him on the side and his twin smiled at me. 'Okay, okay. Sorry momma!' both of them smiled and put down the baseball bats and played something else. I smiled and closed the door and went back to my working station, the living room.

I yawned and blinked away the tears forming in my eyes. I took off my reading glasses and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ears.

I stretched before continuing my typing.

Six years ago.

Even the best fall down sometimes

Even the stars refuse to shine

Out of the back you fall in time

I somehow find

You and I collide

-Collide Howie Day

Bridget flitted around her apartment, fretting over what she was going to wear. After practically having to throw both Chris and Mark out of her house, she had taken fifteen minutes to bite her nails down to practically nothing for making such a harsh decision. It wasn't that she didn't like Chris; it was probably too obvious that she did like him. But she had never gone out on a date. Ever. And now she had to think of what to wear and what she was going to talk to Chris about. Why did she agree to it in the first place?!

After pacing for almost an hour, a knock came at the door. Bridget jumped and yelped. She tried to catch her breath as she answered the door.

'Ma cher! Monsieur Mark told me of your dilemma.' Lizzie smiled sweetly as she revealed Mark behind her who was smiling sheepishly.

'I don't have a dilemma.' Bridget said, envisioning herself strangling Mark.

Lizzie shook her head. 'The first step to having a dilemma is denial. It isn't just a river in Egypt, ma cher.' She giggled. Bridget smiled half-heartedly.

'Well…let's see it then.' Lizzie said.

'See what?' Bridget asked.

'What you're going to wear for the date.' Lizzie said matter-of-factly.

'Um…I haven't decided yet.'

Lizzie grinned. 'I'm on time then. Not much time left though. Five hours!' Lizzie pushed Bridget into her room. 'I'm going to kill you Mark!'

Three hours later, Bridget walked out of her bathroom all scrubbed and glowing. Her hair was wrapped up in a towel. Lizzie pulled her to sit down at her dressing table. She tugged off the towel and aimed the hair dryer at her hair and Bridget yelped at the hot blast of air at the back of her head but she gradually got used to it.

After a few minutes, Lizzie turned her attention to yanking Bridget's hair in twists and knots and whatnots. Bridget couldn't be bothered anymore as she let Lizzie make a Barbie doll out of her.

Bridget slept through the thing, getting woken up by the yanks and pulls Lizzie made. Bridget thought that was a bit rude. She was trying to sleep there.

When she was satisfied with Bridget's luscious tresses in tight curlers, Lizzie started poking and prodding Bridget's face with countless of sticks and powders that made her eyes water and her nose itch. She actually tried to bite Lizzie's hands off at some point but she was hit on the head. Now that was impolite as well. She barely knew Lizzie and here Bridget was, being under the petite French's control. She needed to get a hold of herself. She was a Cohen after all.

'Lizzie.'

'If you don't be quiet, your lipstick will become your enemy. You don't want to look like a demented clown do you?' Lizzie said sternly, a hand on her hip slender hips. Bridget instantly became quiet. What was the use of her fighting the demented clown herself?

Bridget didn't keep time but by the time she was finished being poked and prodded, it was getting dark. 'It's almost seven, Lizzie.' Bridget said.

Lizzie stuck her tongue out at Bridget as she rummaged through the menial closet Bridget had. She probably used one article of clothing more than ten times.

Lizzie suddenly shrieked when she took out a pretty ocean blue halter dress. 'Sacre Bleu! Cèst magnifique, mon ami! I never knew you had this kind of clothing!' Lizzie exclaimed. 'Put it on or you'll be late for your very first date!'

'You did this on purpose!' Bridget squealed when she got thrust into her bathroom to get changed.

'What, get you to dress at the last minute? But of course! You wouldn't agree with me otherwise!'

Bridget bit her lower lip as she looked at the precious turquoise dress. It was her mother's when she was still alive. Her mother had worn it once to her dancing competition. Bridget could still remember exactly how she looked like in the picture her dad had taken. It captured her mother in her most beautiful moment. Her head twisted to look at the camera as she was dipped down low by her partner. Her dark locks floating in mid-air, shining under the light and her smile winning the judges' hearts. She wondered where she had kept that picture. But the dress was precious. She couldn't…

BAM! BAM! BAM! 'Come on Bridget!' Lizzie's voice broke her concentration. Bridget sighed and slipped into the chiffon, the material gliding down her skin. 'It's six forty-five, Bridget! We need to do your last touches on make-up and hair!' Bridget zipped herself up and turned to look at her mirror. For a minute, she saw her mother. How beautiful she had looked in that picture. And she thought she saw her mother in her, the graceful beauty and the easy smile on the face.

She snapped out of her thoughts and looked down. She was in a dress. Which was in a bright colour no less. Which belonged to her mother.

Her dead mother.

She took a deep breath and walked out of the bathroom to see Lizzie gaping at her, her hand up in mid-knock. Her mouth had parted in a slight 'O'.

'Ma cher…you look beautiful.' She said as she led Bridget to the dressing table once more to let Bridget's hair go from the curlers. The already soft locks curled softly on her back and framed her face.

'My masterpiece.' Lizzie giggled as she looked at Bridget with an expression that said she was…in awe? Someone was in awe with her…

Lizzie grabbed Bridget's denim jacket and draped it over her bare shoulders, taking her hair out gently and letting it fall on her back.

'Mon cher…you're all set.' Lizzie whispered as she air-kissed Bridget.

Bridget got up and went to her shoe box to get out the ankle boots and she slipped it on before going out of her room. Mark was watching TV, munching on some chips. Lizzie cleared her throat and Mark jumped up and stood up straight. When he caught sight of Bridget, he gripped the sofa so tight his knuckles whitened.

'Mrs. Cohen!'

Bridget's lips parted slightly. That was the first time anyone had ever mentioned her mother. In reference to her at that.

'B-Bridget. You looked just like your mother…I thought…she was…for a minute…you look…fabulous.'

'Just for a minute?' Bridget asked jokingly.

'No! You look…gorgeous.' Mark almost whispered the last part. Bridget blushed. She'd never been called gorgeous before.

She self-consciously smoothed down her hair and dress as Mark fumbled to gain his speech. Lizzie giggled and walked towards Mark. 'Look at her. Our baby. She's all grown up and ready for her first date.' She said, slipping her hand into the crook of Mark's arms as she leaned against him. Bridget thought they looked good together. She had to tell Mark that later. Right after she finished killing him off of course.

A knock came at the door.

'Answer it!' Mark pushed her to the door and she opened it, revealing a rather handsome looking fellow. Chris was wearing a light blue shirt that set off his eyes rather dramatically and he had on tan smart pants. His hair was up in a slightly spiked style. He was holding a solitary black rose up in front of him like a shield. Bridget gulped inaudibly.

'Hi…' Chris said softly. Bridget cast her eyes down as a blush slowly crept up her cheeks. 'Hi.' She replied.

'This is for you. Mark told me they were your favourite.' Chris said, handing her the stalk.

'It must've been hard to look for them.' Bridget took it and touched it lightly with the tips of her fingers.

'Not really. I know a florist who sells these really cheap.' Chris said. 'It only cost me seven…sorry.' He looked down, embarrassed.

Bridget smiled and shook her head in amusement. She bit her lower lip before inviting him in. He walked in as she walked to the kitchen to get the vase with Mark's bouquet.

'Should I be jealous of that?' Chris asked jokingly, gesturing toward Mark's bouquet.

Bridget chuckled softly, eliciting a sweet smile from Chris. 'No…it's from Mark. He remembered how much I love them.' She shrugged.

Mark and Lizzie were quiet the whole time so Bridget turned to them. 'What will you guys be doing, then?' she asked.

'We'll find ways to entertain ourselves,' Lizzie said seductively running her fingers down Mark's arm, causing him to shiver and smile dreamily. Bridget and Chris chuckled. 'I bet you would.' Chris said.

Bridget bit her lower lip and took Chris's hand and manoeuvred him to the door. 'Bye you guys. Lock up the house and Liz, thanks for everything. Mark…you watch your back.' Bridget smiled angelically as she grabbed her tiny handbag which had her necessities before leaving the house.

They walked silently to the elevator and Bridget pushed the down button. Again, she unconsciously smoothed down her hair and dress.

'You look awesome.' Chris blurted out. Bridget turned to him with a shocked expression on her slightly powdered face. Her delicately painted lips parted slightly.

Chris gulped and cleared his throat. 'Yeah…you look great.'

'You too.' Bridget blushed, looking at the silver elevator doors as it slid soundlessly apart. They stepped inside and Bridget pressed the button that had the letter L for lobby.

The drive in Chris' battered Skyliner to the restaurant was a silent one. Bridget wanted to ask him questions but her mind was making stupid decisions for her. It thought that the questions she had were too personal and it would offend him in some way so she just kept quiet. She wondered what Chris was thinking.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Bridget gulped. It was one of the most expensive restaurants in town.

'Chris…'

Chris turned to look at Bridget. 'Yeah?'

'This place…'

'Looks expensive? Yeah I know. That was what I thought when I first came in. But that notion was put to place when I went in. It's actually a family restaurant that had flourished with ongoing customers that it lowered the price of the food but kept the ambience rich.' Chris took Bridget's hand and guided her to the door. 'It's the town's well-kept secret.' He smiled. Bridget bit her lower lip out of habit and smiled back at Chris.

Inside, they were warmly greeted by a middle-aged woman who called Chris 'Superstar’. Bridget made a mental note to ask him about that. They were then ushered to a table near a group of people who were dressed in T-shirts and skirts and laughing boisterously.

They were given the menu by a lean and muscular thirty-something man who greeted Chris the same way the woman at the front did and left after handing out the menu. Everything on the menu was in French but Bridget didn't dare say anything, afraid of embarrassing herself. She looked at Chris who was surveying the menu and then looked back at the menu. She decided she'd have the filet mignon. She put down the menu, leaned back on her chair and surveyed her surroundings.

The thirty-odd year old man came back and asked for their orders and Chris read out his order in fluent French which made Bridget squirm in her seat. The person she liked could speak in the language she loved…Chris is awesome!

'Bridget?' Bridget snapped her head in his direction and blinked. 'Yeah?'

'Your order?' Chris asked. 'Oh!' Bridget gulped and felt a blush creep up her cheeks. 'Um…I'll have the filet mignon.' She ordered in English.

'Wise choice,' the man smiled. 'And your drinks?'

'A Perrier.' Chris said, closing his menu. 'A coke, please?' Bridget asked timidly. The man nodded and ruffled Chris' hair. 'She's a keeper this one is. A beautiful one at that.' He said, walking away with a smile.

Bridget could feel heat rushing to her cheeks which made Chris smile. He told her she was blushing and that made her colour more.

After a moment's silence, Bridget looked at Chris and cleared her throat. Chris turned to look at her questioningly.

'I was wondering…why did they call you Superstar?' she asked.

'I used to come here with my parents all the time when I was still a kid.' He said. His eyes swept across the room and landed on a secluded corner at the restaurant Bridget could not have seen if he didn't show it to her. There stood a lone cello on its stand, basked in a soft glow from the light hanging over it. 'My mom used to sing while I played.' Bridget couldn't have missed the slight waver in his voice even if she wanted to.

'Used to?' she pressed on, immediately regretting it. She knew how it felt to lose something dear to them without having to be subjected to more questions about it.

'She died when I was ten.' He replied, playing with his cutleries.

Bridget should have taken that as a sign to just drop the subject. But being her, the nosy fool, she pressed on, apologizing. Even though she knew if she were in the same position, she wouldn't have spared the life of the person who said the very words she was about to.

'I'm sorry.'

Chris let out a harsh laugh. 'It's been thirteen years since the accident. I think that's long enough for me to get over talking about her.'

'My mom died when I was four.' She blurted out.

They were silent until their orders arrived. They ate their first bite in silence.

'Bridget, I'm sorry I sounded so harsh.' Chris said in a soft voice. She looked up at him and smiled. 'I don't blame you. I would have reacted the same way if I were in your shoes. I don't really like talking about her either.'

'It's not because I don't like talking about her, Bridget. I just don't know why people have to say sorry when it's not their fault your loved ones died. They could just send their condolences or something but to say they were sorry?'

'I understand.' Bridget said, stuffing her mouth with her food.

'Could we please change the subject?' Chris laughed nervously after a pregnant pause.

Bridget nodded and looked up to see Chris smiling sheepishly.

'Maybe we can start by knowing each other a bit better?' Bridget suggested. Chris nodded. She asked how many siblings he had and he told her he was an only child, which she responded to with a lopsided smile. 'Aren't you going to ask me how many siblings I have?'

Chris laughed at that. 'I thought we had that covered when you near threatened me earlier today.'

'I wasn't threatening you!'

'Could've fooled me.' Chris smiled.

Bridget chuckled. 'Well, I didn't want to start off a friendship with a lie.'

'Friends ask each other out on dates?' Chris asked. Bridget covered her want to blush by snorting, after which she mentally slapped herself for. 'We're not strangers are we, Chris?'

He shrugged. 'We're getting to know each other so I doubt that we're strangers.'

Bridget smiled. 'What's your favourite food?'

'Anything with cheese is fine by me. How about you?'

'Italian.'

'Great choice. Favourite colour?'

'Black and silver.'

'That's two.'

'I'm not allowed to have two favourite colours?'

'Never said that.'

Bridget grinned. 'You?'

'Anything dark. What genre of book do you read?'

'I don't know. Roald Dahl's my favourite author if that's any indication.'

'He's overrated.'

'What about you, then?'

'Chuck Palahniuk. Fight Club's my favourite of his.'

'I like that too.'

'You would say that after seeing Brad Pitt almost naked most of the movie and Edward Norton prancing around screen acting the insane insomniac part really well.'

Bridget laughed. 'You got me there.'

The dinner went smooth after that, they got to know each other by playing 21 questions. Bridget found out that he had a passion for writing as much as she did and both found their common love for rhythm and blues and jazz. Chris revealed that he loved Tyler Hilton just as much as Bridget loved Rachel Yamagata who happened to be Chris' favourite singer as well. Chris' favourite movie was Sleepers. Bridget could have squealed right then and there. She absolutely adored the movie! She and Jordan used to watch it almost every odd weekend together, just the two of them, and he let her cry on his shoulders every single time. Chris' favourite actor was Tom Hanks while Bridget's was Al Pacino. His favourite actress was Meryl Streep while hers was Ashley Judd.

They finished their dinner and Chris paid for it. They left the restaurant and headed for the park where they continued telling each other about themselves.

They were suddenly interrupted by the shrill till of Bridget's cellphone. She completely forgot she had the noisy bugger with her. She took it out of her bag and flipped it open. 'Hello?'

'Where have you been?!'

Bridget held the phone away from her ear. She groaned when she recognized the voice to be Logan's. Chris choked on his laughter when he received a death glare from her.

She took in a deep breath before placing the phone to her ear, although keeping it quite a distance away.

'Mark told me you were out for dinner. It's almost twelve, Bridget. Restaurants in New York close earlier than this. Where are you Bridge?'

'The park Logan. Don't worry about me.'

'I'm coming to get you.'

'Logan, I'm coming home already. Don't-'

'I'm coming to pick you up. I'm in my car already,'

'Logan, I'm with somebody!'

'A girl is not going to save you from—'

'I can fend for myself, Logan.'

'So what? You think eleven years of karate and jujitsu will help you in real life?'

'Logan, please—'

'I'm on my way. Just meet me at the entrance. I'll be there in five minutes.' And with that, the phone went dead. Bridget let out the breath she didn't know she was holding and turned to Chris and smiled sheepishly.

'We'll have to leave now.' Bridget sighed heavily. 'If Logan sees you here, he'll probably chase you around the park the whole night.'

'Morning.' Chris showed her the time. Bridget grinned.

'I'm sorry it had to end this way.' She said. 'Hey, it's not a problem at all. It was great while it lasted.'

Both of them stood up and Bridget smiled. 'You were great company, Chris.'

'So were you.'

They looked away, feeling a bit awkward.

'We'll talk…some other time?' Chris asked.

Bridget smiled and nodded. 'Will you pick up the phone when I call you after today?'

Chris looked at Bridget weirdly. 'Of course.'

'Sorry…this is my first date.' Bridget looked away, cursing herself to Hades for revealing that tiny and valuable piece of information.

'Yeah right.' Chris blurted out. 'Are you serious?'

Bridget gulped and nodded.

'Whoa…'

'Yeah well…um…I really…well…'

Chris cut her off by placing a soft kiss on her flushed cheek. 'I'm honoured to be your first.' He said.

'I'm glad you're my first…' Bridget looked at Chris with a shy smile.

'Call me, yeah?' he asked as they started to part.

'I don't have your number.' She said.

Chris said out his number and she mentally made a Post-It of it.

'Call me?'

Bridget nodded.

'Bye Bridget.'

'Bye Chris.'

They both walked in separate directions. Every once in awhile, they turned to look back, hoping to still see the other's retreating back but when they saw that they were looking at each other, they would blush and it continued that way until she couldn't see him anymore.

Bridget didn't want him to go but she didn't want Logan to go all Bruce Lee on the first person she really liked.

When she finally arrived at the entrance, Logan's Hummer glided in the curb and she hopped in the passenger's seat.

'You look nice.' Logan said as he got the car in gear.

'Thank you.'

'Where's your friend?'

'Went home.'

And then, silence filled the car as Logan drove her back to her apartment, all the while with a smile on her face.