The Penitent's Rose

A loud gasp resonated in the whole dark bedroom. Two eyes were opened wide, body shaking as adrenaline rushed through his veins. Arms stretched out as if reaching for something. Or someone. He brought his arms down slowly. One hand ended up clutching his comforter while the other grasps the front of his nightshirt. His chest hurts from breathing too hard. His eyes scan around as he tries to make his breathing back to normal. Everything is still bleary, his mind still disoriented with his terrifying nightmare. Bits and pieces of his nightmare suddenly flood his mind. The crash, screams, and words echoes to his ears. The smell of blood and gas is potent as if it was there in front of him. He pulls both of his knees up and hugs it against his chest as tears start to fall from his eyes. His hold to himself tightens as he cries harder, his sobs filling his room. It’s been years, but he was still haunted by it. He still carries the guilt of what he believes was his fault, like a metal ball chained to his feet. Those memories will always wake him up in the most awful way and serves as his alarm clock, reminding him of his faults; Of his sins. And he will eventually carry those memories, feeling the heavy weight on his chest despite smiling towards every single customer that he will serve the entire of his day. He hadn’t any idea how long he had cried and stayed in that position. He just knows that the sun is already up based on the light trying to penetrate his dark, red curtain from the outside. Taking one more deep breath, he pulls his comforter off his body and slowly moves out of his bed. He doesn’t like the image that he sees in the mirror. Eyes red and sore after hours of crying and the bags underneath it due to lack of sleep. His skin pale and splotchy, nose red and runny. Suddenly his mind unconsciously wanders off to some old memories: A young child crying in front of a tombstone. A soothing voice calling out his name. A gentle hand caressing his head. A promise heard before falling asleep.  A promise that was later then betrayed. Eyes blink hard and he’s back in reality, hands close into a tight fist in an attempt to fight the shudder. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm down. He shouldn’t waste any more time. He has a lot of orders to attend to. Determined, he quickly washes his face, dries it off by rubbing the towel more roughly, and forces himself away in front of the mirror. He threw himself in what he first got his hand on his dresser and made his way down to his kitchen. His table needed a few things: his tea-for-one set, a small plate, and his utensils. After pouring the hot water to his Thermos from his kettle, he opens the back door and walks out to his garden. Important herbs for cooking grow in small planters hanging on one side of the fence. Tomatoes, peppers, onions, berries of every kind and other edible produce vegetate in another part of the land. Roses, Tulips, and other flowers of different colors, sizes, and species flourish in almost every corner of the place. His garden is definitely a florist’s dream. His little piece of heaven on Earth. Hands busy getting himself some strawberries, he got distracted by loud mewling and meowing. His lips turn up into a smile as he crouches down and look underneath the bushes. “Hello there little rascal,” he said as he reached out and pulled a gray, fat cat up. “I see that you’ve run away from your owner again, huh?” The grimalkin meowed at him like it understands what he had said. It's clear blue and yellow eyes stare straight at him.   “Seriously, you should stop running away. You might get yourself hurt, you know. Or worst, someone might steal you,” he told the cat as he cradled it into his arms, fingers gently rubbing its fine fur. A corner of his mouth was pulled into a slight smile as the cat purred. “I knew it! He’s definitely here again.”  A middle-aged woman was standing outside his fence. The cat squirmed and jumped out of his hold even before he could greet the newcomer. Shaking his head in amusement, he walked towards the woman. “Good morning, Mrs. Eugenio,” he greeted, smiling as he watched how the master peppers her pet with kisses, much to the cat’s displeasure. “Good morning to you too, Adrian,” the woman greeted back. “When I learned that my Tabby here is missing, I know that he will come here. I do hope that he doesn’t break anything in your garden.” Adrian shakes his head. “None at all. I usually found him hiding beneath my strawberry bushes though. Maybe he likes to have one.”  Mrs. Eugenio c***s her head to the side to have a better look of Adrian’s plants. “I can’t blame Tabby if that is his reason. Those berries are mouthwatering to look at.” His smile widens. “I’m really happy that my plants bear nice fruits this time. I’m harvesting some now to make jams and probably bake a pie. Would you like to have some berries? I can get you some if you like.” “Really? That’s very generous of you to offer, Adrian. I’m not saying no to those delicious-looking berries. Thank you very much.” “You’re very much welcome.” The cat meows loudly, taking both of their attention. He chuckled as he rubbed the cat’s fur. “Of course I’ll give some to Tabby as well,” he said. Both of them laugh when the cat meows once again. “If only I’m still young and single, I’ll definitely like to have you as my boyfriend,” Mrs. Eugenio said. “You’re every woman’s dream, you know?” His smile faded a little. “Oh no. I’m not,” he answered back, head shaking in disapproval.  “Oh shush! I’m a woman so I know better. And I’m a hundred percent sure that the majority of the females will agree with me.” He exchanged a smile with her, then shook his head. “You’re a good-looking lad, Adrian. You’re kind to everybody, even to our pets. And you’re earning enough to support a growing family. That’s the ultimate list for a husband material if you asked me.” Adrian scratches his nose, a habit of his whenever he feels shy. “Well, I’m sure Mr. Eugenio is the same then, since you’ve married him,” he commented, trying to divert the topic from him. A thoughtful smile curved into Mrs. Eugenio’s lips. “Indeed, he is,” she said, the warmth of her smile echoes through her voice. “He may not be as rich as the others, but my husband works hard to provide for our needs. And throughout our married life, he has never done something that will upset me. And you know what? He never fails to give me flowers on my birthday and our wedding anniversary. Oh!” The woman’s head snapped up, wide eyes staring back at him. “Today is our wedding anniversary! We’ve been married for thirty-four years now.” “Wow. Congratulations on your anniversary, Mrs. Eugenio.” The woman suddenly had a worried look on her face. “Oh what to do? Last year, he ended up surprising me because I totally forgot about it. I wanted to be the one to surprise him this time.” “How about giving him some flowers? I can definitely make you a bouquet right now using the flowers from my garden,” he offered. “I just hope that your husband does appreciate that kind of gift though.” “He does! I gave him a bouquet or two before. And he loves them,” Mrs. Eugenio confirms. “Don’t worry. I will pay for the bouquet. Just a simple one will do,” she added. He shakes his head. “No need to pay me. Consider it as my gift for your anniversary. Now, let’s get you inside so you can choose which flowers you would like for your bouquet.” Adrian guided his guest to where a small wrought iron gate is located. He pulled the lock handle to open it and let Mrs. Eugenio inside. Her lips parted in awe as her eyes scanned the whole area.  “This place is absolutely breathtaking,” she stated and then turned to him smiling. “Your garden is amazing, Adrian.” He rewarded her with a larger smile of his own. “Thank you.” They both stood in the part where he planted most of his flowering plants. He turned to his guest, and was delighted when he saw how amazed she was with the display of flora in front of her. “Choose one that you like. From there, we can start building your bouquet,” he instructed the lady beside him.  “I’m not sure…” she said hesitantly. “He always buys me roses. But I wanted to give him something different.” Head nodding, Adrian smiles in understanding. “I see. If you’re having a hard time, think of something that your husband would like. Does he like any particular flower? Or his favorite color perhaps?” Mrs. Eugenio’s eyes go from one side to another, scanning every flower in front of her. “How about that one over there? Can you use that one in a bouquet? It looks interesting,” she asked, pointing at a flowering plant on their right. Glaucous, linear green leaves that rise up from fleshly thickened roots that form its basal clump of foliage, leafless flowering stem bears racemes of star-shaped, pink-veined, white flowers. Yellow or green colored, egg-shaped, seed capsules were at its flower ends. All clusters were swaying along the morning breeze, adding more to it’s allure. Adrian’s smile slowly fades from his lips. “I’m afraid we can’t use that one, Mrs. Eugenio,” he said, eyes not leaving the beautiful blooms. A heaviness centered in his chest. “Why? Are those poisonous?” He shook his head. “Those are called Asphodels. They are interesting, as you said, but they’re not appropriate as a gift. Especially on occasions just like your anniversary.” When Mrs. Eugenio just stared at him, he heaved out a sigh and continued his explanation. “Asphodels are believed to be flowers of the dead. Gifting these carries the message ‘my regrets follows you to the grave.’” “Oh my!” Two groomed eyebrows shot up in shock. Mrs. Eugenio threw a quick glance to his Asphodels before looking back at him. “What a sad meaning for a beautiful-looking flower,” she then said. He nodded in agreement. “If you want something other than roses, how about giving Sunflowers? They’re not just associated with hope and happiness, but it’s spiral seeds represent unconditional devotion and ever growing love,” he offered, pointing at the Sunflowers at the opposite side.  “I haven’t had a Sunflower bouquet before.” She smiled at him, nodding. “Okay. Let’s go with that one.” He nodded and led her to sit in one of the iron chairs in his garden. Adrian went back inside his house for a while, and came out bringing tea, bread, and jam and offered it to Mrs. Eugenio. He also offered some treats to Tabby before getting his garden scissors and cut a number of Sunflowers for the lady’s bouquet. A few minutes later, he presented her work to his guest: An arrangement consisting of Sunflowers, white Orchids, and Anemones wrapped in his signature brown paper and tied with a white ribbon. He smiled to himself, patting his shoulders mentally as he watched his guest openly admiring his work. “This is so beautiful,” Mrs. Eugenio stated, eyes twinkling with admiration as she turned to him. “Are you sure you don’t want me to pay for it? I am certain that this isn’t just a simple arrangement.” “No need. As I’ve said, consider this as my gift for your anniversary,” he answered, still smiling.  One of her hands reaches for Adrian's. “Thank you very much, Adrian. I am sure that my husband will definitely appreciate this bouquet that you’ve made,” she told him, hands squeezing his. He squeezed her hands back, telling her once again that it was nothing.  After a promise of sending him dinner for later, Mrs. Eugenio smiles once again at Adrian, unable to wave back because of her cat, a basket full of strawberries, and the bouquet that she was carrying. He was about to continue his strawberry picking when the Asphodels caught his eyes. He smiles bitterly as another round of painful memories flood his whole being. He took his scissors and went back in front of the flowers. A deep breath, and then he cuts himself a good amount of Asphodels. Contented, he returned inside his house, straight to his room.  In one corner of his room, there’s a small side table near his window. There are five things that are placed on that table: A small, white macrame table runner that he had made years ago. A small glass that serves as a candle holder. An old lighter that he bought at the convenience store. A small, wide-mouthed porcelain vase. And a picture frame which holds a cartographic sketch of a man. Subconsciously aware of the dull ache inside his chest, he continues to stare at the image inside the frame. Drawn in accordance to his memories, it was the only reminder of the person that he owes everything, including his life and the sin that he has committed that resulted in his current situation. Gently, he placed the Asphodels in the vase then proceeded in lighting the candle. Adrian swallowed hard. He fought back his tears as he smiled and greeted the man in image. “Good morning, Uncle Fernan.”