The House of Roses

by Holden Robinson

  “We have to be.”

  “I'm worried about Caitlin.”

  “So am I, but she'll be all right, Rita. This is part of life, the crappy part, mind you, but part of it nonetheless. Somehow we'll be okay. Ella wouldn't want us to get lost in this.”

  “I know. I can't imagine life without her, Nathan. She was my best friend.”

  “I know,” he said, laying his hand on Rita's arm.

  “I'm glad Caitlin is staying here for a while. I don't want to be alone here anymore,” Rita admitted. “I'd be alone in the shop and in the house. God, I miss Ella already.”

  “I know. So do I,” Nathan said. Rita nodded, but said nothing more. She seemed to be lost in thought, and she swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

  Caitlin and Maria returned a few minutes later, and Rita excused herself to wash her face. She reappeared after only a moment looking refreshed, but tired and drawn, as they all did.

  Liz and Howie Parker arrived and Nathan met them at the door. Liz was crying, but only softly, and the mood was subdued as their loss became real. Rita had made coffee, but no one seemed to want it. Maria opened another bottle of wine and they shared it, and then drank another, and another still. They laughed and cried together, and as the night hours passed, they shared stories of the woman they had loved and lost. It was a long, agonizing night filled mainly with sorrow and heartbreak, interrupted by occasional laughter, but they spent it together. It was what Ella would have wanted.

  At dawn, Rita dumped the coffee that had sat on the counter all night, and gently laid the wine bottles in the recycling bin. Liz Parker and her husband had left an hour before. Nathan slept in the recliner and Maria and Caitlin had finally gone upstairs and slept together in Caitlin's double bed. Rita was grateful for Maria's company. She knew how much Caitlin needed a friend right now. The twins still slept, lost in their baby dreams, and the baby monitor on the table remained quiet and the house eerily silent.

  Rita waited until the silence was broken by the gurgling of the coffee pot and when it was finished, she poured herself a cup and walked outside onto her front porch. The sun was just beginning to rise in all its splendor, shining light on the garden where her best friend had tended her beloved roses. Rita felt as though her heart was truly breaking, as if it would suddenly cease to beat in its state of disrepair. She watched in amazement as the sun rose, shining its restorative light on the world below it. She relished the peace of early morning, when the world seemed unsoiled, and most of its occupants still lay blanketed by the comfort of sleep. Despite their loss, the world didn't pause, it didn't stop, it simply kept going, and life went on, without Ella.

  The world didn't pause, but for a moment, Rita did. She sat on the porch railing and leaned her head back against the weathered post. She paused, and she cried for the friend she had lost, for the woman who had given her more than anyone she had ever known. The world around her remained silent as her tears fell one by one. She wept. For Ella.

  Forty-four

  The sun seemed to take longer to rise in Manhattan. Its glow filled Colin's bedroom, but it would be afternoon before it was perched above the many high rises in the city. Colin had spent a restless night, and had gotten little sleep. Twice he had reached for Caitlin, only to find it was a puppy he held to his chest. He rose from his bed, and carefully wound his way through the boxes that were piled throughout the small space. He stepped into the hallway and Faith greeted him excitedly.

  “Is it my imagination, or do you look guilty?” he asked the dog, who responded by eying him curiously. He discovered the source of the dog's guilt when he stepped into the living room and into a small puddle. Colin was finding the definition of “housebroken” might not mean what everyone thought it did.

  “I don't like the carpet myself, but I don't pee on it,” Colin muttered, as he removed his soaking wet gym socks, and padded barefoot to the kitchen for paper towels.

  He deposited the paper towels onto the puddle, as was becoming somewhat of a habit, and walked into his bedroom to change his clothes, and get fresh socks.

  “Can you hold the rest of it while I change?” he called to the dog, who watched him from the doorway. “Why am I talking to you like you understand?” he asked, and Faith tipped her head, likely as a reaction to the changing timbre of his voice, not because she understood.

  “Okay, let's go for a walk,” he said, as he hooked the leash to the dog's collar.

  The morning was cool and damp, and Colin felt a chill that seemed to settle in his heart. He couldn't believe he had seen Caitlin by chance, not once, but twice, and he had to wonder if the fates were trying to tell him something.

  Faith waddled by his side, finally squatting to take care of business on a small grassy patch half a block from the condo. Colin retrieved it with the plastic bag, wondering if he would be a real shit if he delegated that job in the future to his trusted Caren. Yeah, that would be shitty. He smiled at the thought, and for a moment he felt better. He was reminded of his time in Spokane earlier in the week, and he thought of calling his aunt. He'd see how his meeting with Caitlin went the following day and then he'd call her. Then he could report on his excellent behavior, or whine to her that he'd been an ass, depending on how their meeting went. Meeting? He wondered why he kept referring to it as a meeting in his thoughts, when it was anything but. Sure, they'd meet, but they weren't negotiating a deal, or discussing any medical issue. They were talking about their lives. It wasn't a meeting. Colin felt as though it would be an assembly of moments that would change their lives, possibly forever.

  His stomach turned with anxiety, and he quickly headed back to the condo with Faith in tow. He decided he'd try to sleep a bit more and then spend a few hours packing the rest of his things. Caren had promised to meet Rosario at 11:00 to help her finish in time for the 2:00 deadline. It would be a busy day, and frankly, Colin would be glad when it was over and they were settled into the new house. He wished it was a more joyful time, and they were moving into the house under happier circumstances. He kept thinking of the house as a place where someone would die, but suddenly he realized it was a place they would live. He would live there. Mia would live there. Caren would live there, and Rosario would live there, although no one knew how long. As he walked with Faith waddling at his side, he remembered the Realtor in Spokane. He wondered if she would sell the small plot on which the house where Colin had lived as a boy, once stood. He hoped she would. Someone needed to put a house there, to make a home there, and fill that home with love. It was those things that made a house a home, and Colin was amazed to discover that for a man so well educated, he was a pathetically slow learner. He was coming to terms with his life, discovering what was truly important.

  He glanced at the dog, and realized how something so simple could bring someone such contentment. He was walking a dog, his dog, on a beautiful fall day. His leg felt great, and suddenly, despite his exhaustion, Colin felt great, too. He smiled, and the dog, as if sensing his excitement, danced around at his feet. So, this was it. This was happiness. He'd tried to make it too complex, when in reality, it was simple. True joy was found in the simplicity of life. How could he not have known? At that moment he made a commitment to himself, a promise that traveled from his head, to his heart, and then across his lips. He spoke the promise aloud, telling the universe. Caitlin would be pleased. He would make the house in Brooklyn a home, and he would fill that home with love, and surround himself with simple pleasures that would bring with them great joy. He would do it for Caitlin, for Mia, for himself.

  ***

  At just before 9:00, Caitlin stepped into her mother's shop. It was quiet, and dimly lit, yet inviting. Caitlin paused for a moment and closed her eyes. There was something so comforting about being surrounded by such splendor to the senses, and for a moment, it was easy to forget there was anything wrong.

  “Cate, is that you?” Rita asked, her voice sounding small and distant.

  “It's me,” Caitlin said,
as she wound her way through the shop toward her mother's voice.

  “How are you?” Rita asked, as Caitlin came into sight. Rita Hollings sat at a bench with a sketchpad in front of her. Caitlin just looked at it, as she felt new tears forming.

  “I'm okay. How are you feeling, Mom?”

  “I'm hanging in there, kiddo. How's your head?”

  “I actually forgot about it,” Caitlin said, rubbing her right hand over the bump that had seemingly vanished overnight. “I guess it's better,” she added.

  “Good.”

  What are you doing?” Caitlin asked.

  “I'm designing an arrangement.”

  “For Ella,” Caitlin whispered, and although it wasn't a question, Rita nodded.

  “It has to be perfect,” Rita said, immersing herself in her work.

  “It will be. Your work always is.”

  “Hers was better. She worked from the heart.”

  “So do you,” Caitlin said, defending her mother.

  “Not like she did.”

  “You don't give yourself enough credit,” Caitlin said, taking a seat on the empty stool next to Rita's.

  “I guess I don't think I deserve it,” Rita said, and although it sounded like momentary pity, Caitlin suspected it wasn't.

  “Maria said some interesting things to me last night,” Caitlin said softly.

  “Oh?” Rita said, as she filled her coffee cup from an old red thermos whose label had worn away.

  “She's in therapy now. She had a really bad childhood, Mom. I don't think she ever dealt with it until recently.”

  “That's a shame. That sets the stage for our entire lives.”

  “It does. I've had a good life, Mom.”

  “You seem wounded, Cate.”

  “That's mainly because of what has happened recently. If I had a good childhood, who do you think should be thanked for that?”

  “Your father?” Rita asked, sipping gently at the steaming mug she held in her left hand.

  “You couldn't help me out here, could ya?” Caitlin whined. “You are a damn good mother, Rita. You're weird as shit.....sorry, I know you don't like profanity. Let me try that again. You're eccentric and odd as the day is long, but I've always envied that.”

  “You have?” Rita asked incredulously.

  “Yes. You're at peace with your life, and with who you are, and despite what has happened, you'll still be that way. I didn't know how to be peaceful or happy. I thought there needed to be more, that I needed to have this great big life, and I don't. Maria reminded me of that last night. What you told her is true, Mom. This is a good place to find yourself, and I think that's maybe what I've done. I've found me, the real me, the me who isn't defined by a career, or a man. I've discovered the person I am without all of those things.”

  “That's impressive, Caitlin.”

  “I know. Maria told me something else. She told me regret is a lousy thing, and everyone regrets things they do, but we can't go back. All we really have is now.”

  “That's true,” Rita said softly.

  “We said we'd be okay for Ella,” Caitlin said. “It's what she'd want.”

  “It is.”

  “So let's be okay, but it has to be more than words, Mom. We can't just say we're going to do that, we have to actually do it. And, I knew what you were doing out here.”

  “Sketching?”

  “No. You are beating yourself up. I know you. You were sitting out here replaying everything in your mind, and wishing you could change things. You may not care what people think about you, but you care how they feel. And you feel things, really feel them, and that's why you're so damn hard on yourself when you think you've hurt someone.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You know that's true.”

  “It is,” Rita admitted. “So, you think I'm happy.”

  “Are you happy, Mom?”

  “Are you?”

  “I asked you first.”

  “Mostly,” Rita said softly.

  “What would make you happier?”

  “You want a list?”

  “Why not?” Caitlin asked, and Rita sighed.

  “This is hard. I don't really think about myself. What do I want? Okay, I'd like to take an art class, and maybe even open a gallery one day. I'd also like to go out with that doctor. I'm tired of being alone. In a sad way, I think I avoided men because of Ella. After Daddy died, Ella and I became two old biddies together, and we were kind of a team.”

  “What doctor?” Caitlin asked.

  “I poured my heart out, Cate, and that's all you can ask?” Rita said, ignoring Caitlin's question, and although she sounded annoyed, she was smiling.

  “What doctor?” Caitlin repeated.

  “Stan.”

  “The guy from the tent?” Caitlin asked.

  “Yes. His wife died about eight years ago.”

  “You like him?”

  “Very much.”

  “Does he know?”

  “I think so, or he's more obsessed with flowers than any man who's ever lived. He comes here. A lot.”

  “I think you should tell him, Mom. Tell him you like him.”

  “Women didn't do that when I was young.”

  “Well, they do it now.”

  “Women just call men and ask them out?”

  “All the time.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay what?” Caitlin asked.

  “Okay, I'll ask him out for coffee, or lunch. Oh, Ella would shit if she was here!”

  “Mom!”

  “What? I don't like profanity, but it doesn't mean I don't use it. When you work with thorns all the time, like we do, did.........., like I do,” Rita fumbled. “When you work with thorns, words come out sometimes. There were times these walls echoed with those words,” Rita said, and Caitlin chuckled. “Did you decide to go to the hospital with Liz?” Rita asked, changing the subject and growing somber again.

  “I did. She's picking me up in half an hour. Is that okay?”

  “Yes, Caitlin, as long as you're all right with it.”

  “I'm not all right with anything just yet.”

  “You will be. We all will be.”

  “I know. I don't want you to feel left out today. Do you feel left out, Mom?”

  “No. I want to be here. This is where I feel closest to her.”

  “Okay. Maria wanted to know if she could stay. She wants to be here with us for the funeral,” Caitlin said softly.

  “The funeral.......,” Rita said, sounding agonized. “For a minute, I'd almost forgotten.”

  “I know.”

  “That's going to be really hard,” Rita admitted, as her eyes filled with tears again.

  “That's why she wants to stay.”

  “I'd like her to stay.”

  “She and Nathan are going to watch the twins today. I thought that would be easier for you.”

  “It would be. And it's not that I don't love them, because I do; they are precious, Cate. I just need to be here today. I feel her here with me,” Rita said, as she wiped her eyes on the flowered apron she wore.

  “Of course she's here. This is where she loved to be,” Caitlin said softly, and Rita smiled. “You sure you're okay, Mom?”

  “I'll be okay.”

  “I love you,” Caitlin said. She stood up from the stool, and put her arms around her mother. “I want to make sure you know that.”

  “I know. I love you too, Caitlin.”

  “I'll call you later,” Caitlin promised.

  “All right, sweetheart. Be strong.”

  “I will.”

  Rita watched as Caitlin walked away. She opened the sketch pad and looked at the drawing she had begun at dawn. It wasn't a sketch of flowers. It was Ella, when she was young, like Rita wanted to remember her. It was reminiscent of a time when things were easier, when they were both truly happy. Rita cried as she looked at it. Life was too short, too fleeting, and Ella's had ended in a blink. Rita made a promise to herself, as she wep
t for the woman who had been her best friend. She would find a way to be truly happy again. It was the most loving tribute she could make to the woman who had sacrificed her own happiness to save the life of her best friend.

  “You did save me, Ella,” Rita whispered. “Thank you, my dear friend. I'll never forget you.”

  Rita closed the pad, and poured herself more coffee. She was lifting the cup to her lips when suddenly she stopped and set it aside. She smelled roses. There were only a few in a refrigerated case near the front of the shop. The remainder were struggling against the threat of autumn, in the garden Ella had tended on a daily basis.

  “You here, my friend?” Rita asked, gazing around the empty shop. The smell grew stronger, and Rita smiled. “I thought so. Welcome back,” she whispered.

  Forty-five

  Colin Thomas was packing when his cell phone rang at 10:30. He looked up, and tried to determine where he'd left the phone amongst the incredible mess that surrounded him.

  “Hello,” he barked, having finally found the phone on a box in the farthest corner of his bedroom. “Hey, Caren. How are things going there?” Immediately he frowned. “Shit,” he said. “I was afraid of this,” he admitted, before apologizing for the profanity. “Okay, Caren. Thanks. I'll see you guys there around 3:00.”

  Rosario was worse, so much so that Caren didn't need a background in medicine to know. She didn't have much time, and Colin was familiar with that last surge of energy before the final phase of dying began. He had seen it over the last few days, yesterday included.

  “Shit!” he shouted, at a loss for words. He sat cross legged on his bedroom floor, and leaned his head back against the bed. Faith appeared in the doorway of his bedroom, and pensively crawled into his lap. Colin hugged the dog to his chest, and cried for ten minutes. He'd never considered himself an overly emotional man, but lately he had been crying more than he'd ever cried before. Something was waking up inside of him, some emotional overload he wasn't sure how to handle. He'd felt it for days. He felt it at the beach, and in Spokane, and he'd felt it during his walk of revelation that morning, and even while he'd been crouching down ten minutes before, scooping up dog shit with a Walgreen's bag. He wondered if he'd ever wake up again and feel like the old Colin, the Colin he'd been for thirty-nine years, the Colin who didn't cry, who didn't feel like he was falling apart. On second thought, he hoped he wouldn't. He liked the new Colin a hell of a lot more.