CHAPTER 8: WHITE LILIES
1297 Words
VESPER'S POV
They arrived on October 26th.
At 7:03AM.
Before I opened. Before Elias came.
A delivery truck.
Two men. Suits. Smiles that didn’t reach their eyes.
“Delivery for Miss Ashvale,” one said.
“I didn’t order anything.”
“Sign here.”
I signed.
They brought in twelve boxes.
Big. White.
“Have a nice day,” they said.
Then they left.
I opened the first box.
White lilies.
Hundreds of them.
Drowning in plastic and water.
A card on top.
`For your new beginning.`
`- C`
Calder.
He lost the shop. So he was trying to bury it in white.
“Petty,” I whispered.
Maren came at 8AM.
“What the hell is this?”
“Lilies.”
“From who?”
“Calder.”
She picked up a stem. Snapped it. “Asshole.”
“They’re everywhere,” I said.
The shop smelled like a funeral.
Sweet. Heavy. Wrong.
“I’m not keeping them,” I said.
“Good.”
I dragged the boxes outside.
One by one.
My hands shook. Not from weight. From anger.
He thought this would break me.
White to cover black.
It wouldn’t.
Elias came at 6:00PM.
He stopped at the door.
Looked at the pile of lilies on the curb.
Looked at me.
Soil on my face. Sweat on my neck.
“What happened?”
“Calder,” I said.
He didn’t ask questions.
He walked outside. Picked up a box.
“Where to?”
“Trash.”
We threw them away.
All twelve boxes.
In silence.
At 7:30PM, we were done.
My back hurt. My hands hurt.
But the shop smelled like roses again.
“Thank you,” I said.
“You don’t have to—”
“I know.”
He sat on the step outside.
I sat next to him.
“The town saw,” he said.
“I know.”
“What did they say?”
“That Calder’s a coward.”
He nodded.
“Good.”
We sat.
The air was cold.
He took off his jacket. Put it over my shoulders.
“I’m not cold,” I said.
“Lie.”
I didn’t argue.
October 27th.
I opened late.
Because I was tired.
A woman came in at 11AM.
She looked at the empty spot where the lilies were.
“Did you throw them out?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” she said. “They didn’t belong here.”
She bought two black roses.
$80.
First sale since the lilies.
At 6:00PM, Elias came.
He had dirt under his nails.
“What did you do today?”
“Planted.”
“Where?”
“Behind the shop.”
I followed him.
There. In the dirt.
Black rose cuttings.
New ones.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because he tried to bury you in white,” he said. “So you grow more black.”
My throat hurt.
“That’s illegal,” I said. “The land—”
“I bought it.”
“What?”
“The alley behind. Two feet of it.”
“You bought an alley?”
“Yes.”
“For roses?”
“For you.”
I stared at the cuttings.
Tiny. Fragile. Real.
“You’re insane,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I know,” I said. “I’m saying it anyway.”
October 28th.
Word spread.
“Calder sent lilies.”
“Vesper threw them out.”
“Elias planted roses.”
People started coming.
Not to buy.
To look.
To see the black roses in the alley.
At 6:00PM, Elias came.
There were five people outside.
Taking pictures.
Of the roses.
Of me.
“Go inside,” he said.
“No.”
“Vesper—”
“I’m not hiding.”
He nodded.
We stood outside.
Together.
The town watched.
And for the first time,
They didn’t look away.
October 29th.
Maren said, “You’re famous now.”
“I don’t want to be.”
“Too late.”
A reporter came.
Local paper.
“Miss Ashvale, why black roses?”
“Because they don’t lie,” I said.
She wrote it down.
The headline the next day:
`BLACK PETALS: THE GIRL WHO CHOSE BLACK`
Elias didn’t comment.
He just came at six.
October 30th.
Calder called.
Not to me.
To Elias.
I heard him on the phone.
“No,” Elias said. “She’s not for sale.”
Pause.
“I don’t care what you offer.”
Pause.
“Try me.”
He hung up.
“What did he want?” I asked.
“To buy the alley.”
“What did you say?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s yours.”
I didn’t cry.
But I wanted to.
October 31st.
Halloween.
The town was full of white.
Ghosts. Sheets. Fake snow.
I stayed in the shop.
Closed.
At 6:00PM, Elias came.
He had something in his hand.
A rose.
Black.
“Happy Halloween,” he said.
“You’re not wearing a costume.”
“You are.”
“What?”
“Brave.”
I took the rose.
“Thank you.”
We sat in the dark.
No lights.
Just the rose between us.
At 7:00PM, someone knocked.
Kids.
“Trick or treat!”
I opened the door.
They stared at me.
At the black rose.
“Cool,” one said.
I gave them candy.
Black licorice.
They left happy.
November 1st.
The lilies were gone.
From the curb. From the town’s memory.
The roses were still there.
In the alley.
Growing.
At 6:00PM, Elias came.
He didn’t bring anything.
He just sat.
Closer.
His shoulder touched mine.
“Vesper,” he said.
“Yes.”
“He’s done.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he stopped trying.”
I exhaled.
I didn’t know I was holding my breath.
“Good,” I said.
“Good,” he said.
We sat.
No talking.
No kissing.
Just quiet.
But it wasn’t the quiet of before.
It was the quiet of after.
After the fight.
After the lilies.
After the fear.
November 2nd.
I sold out.
All my roses.
Twelve of them.
$480.
I put it in the jar.
`FOR SEEDS`
At 6:00PM, Elias came.
“I heard,” he said.
“Stop listening to the town.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because they talk about you.”
“What do they say?”
“That you’re Black Petals.”
I looked at him.
“And?”
“And they’re right.”
I didn’t answer.
I just reached out.
Took his hand.
He squeezed.
November 3rd.
It snowed.
First snow of the year.
White on the black roses.
It should’ve looked wrong.
It didn’t.
It looked right.
At 6:00PM, Elias came.
He had snow in his hair.
“Close the shop,” he said.
“What?”
“Come outside.”
I did.
We stood in the alley.
Among the roses.
Snow falling.
He took my face in his hands.
Cold fingers.
Warm eyes.
“Vesper,” he said.
“Yes.”
“I’m not Calder.”
“I know.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“I know.”
He kissed me.
In the snow.
Among the black roses.
Not soft.
Not scared.
Certain.
When he pulled back, he said,
“White lilies are dead.”
“Black petals live.”
“Yes,” he said.
We went inside.
The shop was warm.
We were warmer.
November 4th.
I changed the sign one last time.
`BLACK PETALS`
`NOT FOR SALE`
Elias saw it at six.
He smiled.
That was it.
Calder was gone.
The lilies were gone.
But we were still here.
*END OF CHAPTER 8*
- Writer
