* Flower Boy *

I was about to flip the ‘open’ sign on the door to ‘close’ and suddenly I was flat on my back. My head throbbed painfully, tears stung my eyes, I had trouble breathing; something heavy was pinning me to the hard and cold floor. “Ahh! Sorry, sorry,” a blond blue-eyed boy untangled himself and helped me up.1

“Couldn’t you have walked in properly?” I said angrily as I rubbed the back of my head. It was bad enough that I had a headache. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I slipped…see?” the boy smiled sheepishly and gestured to the wet snow near my doorstep. Winter, snow, cold…I despised them all. I shook my head to clear the dark thoughts that were forming in my head and scrutinized the boy.2

He had light blue eyes that were almost white, delicate features on his oval face and a mop of white blond hair that had snow in it. I noticed he had snow all over him. I wrinkled my nose in disgust, I did not mean to be rude but I just could not help it; the boy did not notice it anyway. He wore a dark green t-shirt with a sunflower print down the front and a pair of black jeans that were “fashionably” ripped at the knees. I do not understand why teenagers bother to wear such abominations, even in the dreadfully cold winter too! He sported a pair of bright red sneakers. I noted that the shoelaces were untied. He had a blue backpack and a guitar case slung casually on his narrow shoulders. He was quite short, around 5 feet 6 inches with a slight built. Being an artist, it was my nature to observe things thoroughly.3

“What do you want from a flower shop at this hour boy?” I asked.4

“Oh, yeah. I wanted to get out of the cold and then I saw the notice on the window. You’re seeking an assistant right? So I thought I’d…” He smiled at me expectantly. I looked out of the window. It was snowing heavily that night. I shivered.5

“I see. Well, have a seat. I’ll get you a hot drink then we can discuss things.”6

“Yes, please,” he said and started brushing the snow off of his hair.7

“Hey! Stop that! Wait, I’ll get you a towel.” I hurried to my apartment that was a floor above my little flower shop. I did not want any filthy snow on my floor.8

After that night, Sage became my assistant. Instead of payment he asked to stay in the little storeroom at the shop. I was more than happy to help him. Nonetheless I insisted that I would provide him with food. It is absolutely unethical to watch him starve, make him work, and not pay him. I was quite surprised to know that he was 18, not with his height and built at least. Sage was cheerful and energetic and knew quite a lot about tending flowers. He said he used to tend the garden with his sister. I never asked him anything concerning his family and background because I in turn do not wish to be asked about such things. They were personal…too intimate. Besides, I do not remember much of my family anyway. 9

Gone were my quiet and lonesome days of painting and reading alone in my little flower shop. Sage became a company that I welcomed. Despite our ages, (I was a decade older than he) we got along quite well. In the afternoons we have lunch together and in the evenings after closing the shop, Sage would take out his guitar and practice. He was the vocalist of a local band called “Scabius” They perform at pubs and bars for a living. I enjoyed these practice sessions. Sage was a very talented singer with an admirable vocal range of 4 octaves. 10

“Hey, Dominique I’ve got a gig at Waterson’s tonight. You wanna come along?” He said one evening while I painted a white rose in my room.11

“I don’t know…I’d rather not-“ before I even finished my sentence, he dragged me out of my room.12

“You don’t have to manhandle me! Fine, I’ll go if you insist so,” I huffed angrily.13

“Please~ it’s my 19th birthday. I really want you to come,” he beamed at me. 14

“Besides, why bother painting a rose again. You’ve got plenty of them on your walls. There’s no more room to hang it.” He added as an afterthought. That caught me off-guard, I accidentally dropped the paintbrush I was holding. He never questioned it before.15

“…They don’t wilt.” I said quietly. 16

“Sure, whatever. Hurry up and get your coat.” Sage eyed me suspiciously. 17

It was the first time in my life, to go to a bar. Even if I did went to one before I do not remember it anymore. It was packed full of people. The building seemed to be bursting at the seams. Lights of various colours flashed in the pub. Men and women were laughing, screaming, drinking, dancing, and embracing each other. The sound system blared in my ears. The atmosphere was intoxicating. It smelt of sweat, alcohol and cigarettes. I immediately felt nauseated. I do not want to be sandwiched in this mass of…of…filth! I thought. Sage yanked the front of my shirt through the crowd to a dingy dressing room behind the stage. I cupped my mouth with my hand. 18

“Dominique old man, don’t tell me you’re gonna hurl?” he was half laughing at me with an exasperated look on his face. How dare he belittle me! 19

“Shut up. Crowds make me feel…weird.” I hissed through clenched teeth. I practically spat the last word at him. It was his fault! That half-wit.20

“Woah, calm down. Don’t get me wrong! Don’t go. I want you to see me perform my new song with ‘Scabius’.” He looked at me solemnly.21

I relented and endured the performance. Sage sang the songs he practiced at home and a new song called ‘Take me away’. As usual Sage’s singing was superb, the band was okay I think. I do not really know about music anyway. Needless to say, the moment I got out of the bar, nausea took over me. I pretty much emptied the contents of my stomach by the sidewalk. I was mortified to discover that I was not the only one too. Sage laughed his head off but apologised later. I did not speak to him at all that night. 22

The trip to the bar was…not me. I would have never visit such a place let alone stay if it were not for Sage. As a matter of fact, after that Sage made me try a number of “wickedly fun” things that were downright dangerous. He took me to a funfair with his band mates where they all laughed when I froze at the sight of the roller coaster; he even took me cliff diving where he practically shoved me off the cliff! Thank god I could swim. I suppose that was the main point of dragging me to the beach every day for two weeks. So that I would not drown when he took me cliff diving. Being with Sage was recklessly thrilling. It was as if I gained myself a hyperactive younger brother. I quite like the notion despite its hazardous implements. A family member…23

Seasons passed. Then, winter came again. The icy coldness brought sense back into me. It reminded me of whom I really was…a murderer. Memories of her haunted me. I withdrew into the cold grasp of the invisible shackles that came with winter. The day of her death crept closer. Sage was baffled by my sudden swing of mood. He thought I was sick, at first at least.24

It was mid winter. We were walking home from the mart. I stared at the icy winding road. I shivered, out of both the coldness and my dark thoughts. 25

“Hey, Dominique. You’ve been like this for like, forever. Is it the cold?” he meant to ask it casually but I could hear the scepticism in his tone.26

“Yeah, I hate winter. Its cold…and dead.” I emphasized the word ‘dead’ a little too harshly. Sage glanced at me but kept quiet. I was grateful that he dropped the subject for I felt nauseated. It was stress induced I suppose. Afterwards, I retched in the bathroom.27

I jerked awake. That dream again…blaring lights and honks, a scream…then, its dark. I was in the hospital, nobody was tending to me. I could only think of her. Then, I saw her lifeless body beside my bed. I screamed and ran. I was covered in sweat. I rubbed my temples as I struggled to calm down. A dark cloak of gloom and despair descended on me. Threatening to suffocate me in its deathly embrace. I shivered and clutched my sides tightly.28

“You know-,” Sage’s voice pierced through the gloom from the doorway. I started.29

“Sage! Urgh…don’t do that. There’s such a thing called knocking okay.” Sage entered my room and sat backwards on my wooden chair, resting his chin on the chair’s back. He frowned at me.30

“What?” I glanced at him and for a split second I thought I saw anger in his eyes.31

“You’ve changed. A lot.” He said. The way he stressed the word ‘changed’ made me shiver again. It was, too…understanding.32

“Uh…uhm, winter makes me..uh..weird,’ 33

I avoided his eyes. Those light blue eyes that seemed to understand too much. Without warning, Sage stood up and flung the wooden chair across the room. It banged on the wall with a loud crash. My framed paintings fell , broken glass and splintered wood littered the floor. I was stunned. Sage was breathing hard, anger evident in his posture, his eyes pierced me like knives.34

“Dammit, Dominique!” he roared. I was too shocked to reply.35

“Aaargh!” he spun around and kicked at the chair on the floor. His shoulders shook with rage. Head lowered, shoulders hunched, knuckles clenched…but then I heard a sob. He was crying. Then, he saw it. He saw my largest painting on the floor. The frame was broken, a corner of a photograph that I hid behind the painting protruded. Sage picked it up and stared at it. His eyes widened with shock and more anger.36

“…Put that down!” I whispered desperately. No. Not the photographs! I thought.37

Sage ignored my warning and started tearing my paintings off the walls and pulled out every single photograph of her that I hid behind my paintings in their frames. Sage took the first photograph…it was a picture of her playing in the snow. Her red hair flying, her hazel eyes bright, she wore a dazzling smile that I would never forget no matter what. Never.38

“Why? Why do you do this?” Sage asked.39

“Who are you to ask such questions?” Anger took over my confusion. I made for the photograph but Sage shoved me. I toppled on my bed. He stared at me. He had stopped crying, the tears froze on his face. 40

“You really don’t remember do you?" He looked at me beseechingly. I didn't. I really didn’t. I lost most of my memory after the accident…the accident…I killed her. Sage yanked the front of my shirt, forcing me to stand. Countless. Countless times I had experienced the pressure that dragged me forward. I blinked, since when did he grew taller than me?41

“You wuss, how could you? Don’t you ever think how my sis would’ve felt if she were to see you living like this?” he hissed in my face.42

“Sister…? What’re you-” 43

“Rose’s my sister!” The very idea…I was speechless. Rose, I could not remember wether she had any siblings or not. Then, he punched me. The pain shocked through my jaw and neck. I could taste blood in my mouth. I deserved it.44

“Disappearing like that at the hospital. You didn’t even go to her funeral!” he grasped my shoulders and shook me.45

“She loved you!” Sage’s voice broke.46

“You don’t understand…I killed her. I am not worthy of her funeral…” I whispered. Sage went quiet. Once again, shock filled his eyes. I felt sick.47

“…………..Dominique…” There was no more anger in his voice.48

Sage walked quietly to the door. He halted and said, “It’s not your fault.” With those words, he had forgiven me. For the first time since Rose’s death, I cried. Sage left. I grieved over Rose until the end of winter. Until I had no more tears to shed. The pain that had been bottled for years was then only a dull ache. Then, I found a note in Sage’s room. It was the address to Rose’s grave.49

Winter almost ended. It was warmer, the snow was thawing. Buds and shoots were everywhere. I stood over Rose’s grave. I closed my eyes. I lost most of my memories during the accident but…memories of Rose were intact. I could still feel her love for me, mine for her, each other. I raised my face towards the sky and took a deep breath. Spring was coming. I felt lighter, awake…forgiven. I would start anew, with spring. I left a red rose on Rose’s grave.50

* * * * *51

A few days after my visit to Rose’s grave, I found a memo on my counter.52

Waterson’s 8.00p.m Be there.53

I was very happy when I found the memo. Sage, he saved me. I would forvever be indebted to him. I arrived at the pub early and sat at a table in the centre of the room across the stage. Sage showed no indication that he noticed me. Then, as he was about to sing the last song, he looked directly at me and said, “This is for you.”54

Spring is coming55

Spring, a promise of life,56

The neverending cycle,57

Of nature’s dance.58

Spring is coming,59

Breaking the monotony of blank whiteness,60

Salvation of diminished dreams, of diminished dreams,61

Blooming from the ashes.62

Last cold breath,63

Away with death,64

In a flurry of colours,65

The earth is reincarnated.66

Broken bones,67

Faint traces of the past,68

Let go and smile,69

Spring is coming.70

“Scabius – Sage”71