A Rose by Any Other Name

by Landra Graf

  “Yes, sir.” He moved up the steps of the porch, noticing the pair of rocking chairs off to the side. He wondered how many nights Rose had spent on the porch, gazing at the stars.

  The teenage pastime was something they’d once enjoyed together, and he knew Emma to be a fan of astronomy as well. Only then did he notice the peeling paint on the siding, and the cracks in the glass on the windows, as if Rose’s passing had somehow affected her belongings as much as the people she’d left behind.

  Walking into the house, he caught the familiar scent of roses and calla lilies wafting through every room. A peek to the left revealed the living room just as he remembered it the last time he’d been here. It shocked him to see no differences except for the pictures on the fireplace mantel. A few steps closer revealed dozens of photos of their past— summer trips to the lake, campouts, football bonfires, and high school dances. Their prom picture sat front and center, Rose in her creamy white dress and him in his tux. A Ken and Barbie pair.

  “I think, deep down, she would’ve lived those four years over and over again.” The sound of Emma’s voice jerked him out of his thoughts, and he turned to see her fingering through a small stack of papers.

  “I think you might be right, but I can’t say I feel the same.”

  Her eyes snapped to his, and he saw a flash of anger. “Why would you say that?”

  “Acne. It was horrible for me those first two years,” he replied with a smile. “Especially during football season with that sweaty helmet. Pretty embarrassing, actually.”

  The anger in her expression melted away, and she let out a small laugh. “True. Can’t really escape the joys of puberty.”

  He wanted to say more, but the awkward silence began. Without Rose to direct their interaction in some way, he didn’t know how to start all over again. He chuckled at the irony of the situation. Then the laugh turned into a bellyache.

  “What’s so funny? I mean, puberty isn’t the best of times.”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s the fact that I can’t seem to avoid descending into silence unless we’re talking to or about Rose. Even now, she still gets all the attention…although she never really wanted it. You know?”

  Her face brightened with a smile, proving he was right. All this time, his ex had dominated their conversations. Every. Single. One. There’d never been room for anything else. He hated the fact that they’d lost Rose, a beacon to the town and one of Emma’s support beams, but, without her, maybe he could finally have a chance to know the woman he’d never gotten to know when she’d been a girl.

  “You’re right. She didn’t like being the center of attention, but she knew her beauty and kindness could potentially change the world…so she used it.” Em moved further into the room. “I’ve been a bit dismissive, thinking you didn’t really care, but I forget that you two were more than just boyfriend and girlfriend.”

  “She was my best friend, too. When you weren’t together, we were; at least until I left. You know when you were talking last night about letting her down?”

  “Yeah. What about it?” She took a couple of steps closer. They were within touching distance, almost too close for him. Could he stop himself from closing the gap?

  “Um, well, it’s not just your fault.” Jason reached out and removed the papers from her hands. “Truthfully, it’s my fault, too, if we’re assigning blame. We were the closest ones to her, and yet we couldn’t bring ourselves back here. I couldn’t be the same golden haired ‘prince’ anymore. And you—”

  “What do you mean? This town loved you even when you weren’t the football star.” She touched his cheek, killing his resolve. As many times as they’d touched in the last twelve hours, it became impossible to control his emotions. She was breathtaking. Those pouting lips demanded attention and that’s where he bestowed it, pulling her close and touching her lips with the smallest amount of pressure.

  She didn’t physically respond except to pull back and inhale a quick breath, “What was that for?”

  “For all the times you didn’t get a date. For all the kisses you missed. For all the supporting remarks you’ve given me behind closed doors while being difficult with me in front of everyone. Consider it your reward for loyalty and being the good friend. Now what I can help with?”

  “I think I found it.” Jason’s voice behind her sent shivers down her spine. He’d kissed her, really kissed her. She could still feel the imprint of his lips, the heat behind it, and the desire in his eyes. It’d taken every ounce of strength she retained to pull away from him, to not deepen the first kiss they’d ever shared. Sure, she’d had kisses before— she’d given up holding out a long time ago— yet none of them had put her whole body in some sort of tingling, hyper-aware state.

  He expected her to go right back to focusing on the memorial for Rose and figuring out how to get some of her things in order. Impossible. Did she feel guilty? Yes. She was torn between her body aching for his touch and her mind still determined to keep her from crossing the line. Could I cross a line if one of the parties was gone?

  Hell, if she’d be able to come up with the answer to that one. Even her mind had started playing traitor, replaying the sensations of that kiss. She moved a paperweight to the side, and then the damn thing went crashing to the floor.

  “Fudge.”

  “Are you okay?” he called, the concern in his voice apparent.

  “Yes. I’m good. What’d you find?” She reached for the clear, flat rock and slapped it onto the table.

  Jason came up next to her and handed over a set of papers. “This looks like the information on the historical landmark applications. She wanted to label the town a historic landmark, but was solidifying the proposal down to this house, my parents’ house, and the main strip. The property values of the houses aren’t super high, but the main strip would be worth any fees.”

  “How do you know all this stuff about properties and everything?” she asked, thumbing through the papers. The applications were almost complete except for signatures. This whole idea would save the town if it worked and allow it to become more tourist-centric.

  “Didn’t I tell you? I’m in the realty business, at least the demolition side of things. I can’t play sports, but my winning personality does well in that line of work, I guess. My company brings down abandoned, derelict buildings, and being around all the sales guys, architects, and Realtors, I pick up a few things.”

  “Who knew? Ex-football captain had a future as a realty expert. That’s not a far cry from politician.”

  He held up his hands and backed a few steps away. “No, don’t even go there. I don’t plan on ever being a politician. The responsibility is too much.”

  “You never were big on responsibility.” She laughed and set the papers down. Trying to locate pictures of good memories with Rose for the slide show so far had proved more difficult than she’d originally thought. “But you’ve got a right to do what you want to.”

  “Tell that to my father. He believed I was the future of the town. With Rose at my side, we were going to bring Charming to new heights. Now, his dream is gone.”

  A sharp twinge of jealousy flew through her. Everyone always assigned them roles, and, just once, she wanted to be assigned to him. Pushing her personal emotions back, she turned to look at him.. Shoulders locked, his frown deepening, he flipped through a few pictures on the table. The expectations he’d mentioned equated to the same ones everyone else in town had, and now she wondered if his father’s dream had somehow transferred and instilled itself in the minds of others over the years. “Yes, I guess it is. But today is about Rose’s dreams. Not your father’s or mine or anyone else’s. Let’s celebrate hers.”

  “You’re right. I’ll keep looking.” He turned to leave the room, and she went back to her rummaging. A warm hand grasped her shoulder. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” The heat of his arm left her, and she knew working on this project with him so near
by would be near impossible. Wanting him still felt wrong. And as to the customs regarding dead friends’ exes, she didn’t play these games, she didn’t know the rules, and— desire be damned—she refused to crumble her friend’s memory for something unpredictable. How she’d convince Jason that being together would be impossible when he seemed determined to show her otherwise required a level of steadfastness equivalent to that of saint. Yet she didn’t need more guilt, and she was pretty sure he didn’t need any either.

  Chapter Four

  However, she was not dead….

  Everyone and their mothers, cousins, aunts, and uncles, all one hundred of them, had turned out for the memorial, not to mention nearly the entire visiting senior class and their spouses, a grand total of twenty folks.

  In a small town, news didn’t stay small for long. Emma’s mom and dad had told her when she got home that at least four casseroles and five pies were already in the kitchen, the reward for bearing the mantle of responsibility that came with managing all the funeral arrangements. Cremation and the actual funeral would be several days from now since the Charming funeral home had closed down a few years prior, and all bodies were picked up by a home over two hours away. The mourning treats sat on a table with countless more and a huge punch bowl at the back of the gym. She brushed her hands through her hair.

  “Nervous?”

  A tingle fell down her spine, and she jerked at the heat radiating from Jason’s body.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said with a chuckle.

  “You shouldn’t sneak up on people.”

  “Why not? The reaction I get from you is refreshing.”

  She whirled around to face him. “Refreshing, huh? Well, the reaction I’m having involves a kneecap and a sensitive part of you.”

  “I like it when you’re feisty.” He laughed again and snaked his arms around her, pulling her in close.

  She saw the look. He planned to kiss her again behind the curtains with the whole town on the other side. What if someone came looking for her? What if her parents saw? Oh, her mother would be over the moon, but still…. She didn’t want the questions.

  “We can’t.” She gave his shoulders a shove. “Not here. Not now. Preferably, not ever.”

  “I know you don’t mean that. Not after today.”

  “Well, I mean it. Time. I need time.”

  “Fine,” he replied, moving off to the side. He peeked out through the curtain. “Looks like you’ve got a full house, and I just came to let you know the slideshow is ready.”

  “Em, the sound system is loaded.” Ewan’s announcement came with his entrance onto the stage. Dressed in black, he’d volunteered to help her with anything. He handed her a small black controller. “This will allow you to turn on the slideshow whenever you’re ready, and the second button will trigger the music.” He pulled her into a hug and whispered, “I’m sorry for your loss. It’s hitting everyone pretty hard, but I know their grief doesn’t hold a candle to yours. If you need me, let me know.”

  “I will, and thanks.” She squeezed him hard.

  “Hey, Ewan. Your mother told me to pass on the message that she’s waiting for you.” Jason’s words ended their embrace. He slowly let go of her hand and then left. “Thinking of kissing him next?”

  She didn’t miss the jealousy in his statement. “Does it matter if I do?”

  No sense in looking at him, especially when the pain in his eyes would be too much to bear. She was wrong to taunt him with Ewan, especially since the bartender’s embrace caused no reaction beyond comfort. No heat, no prickling, or goose bumps like the ones that arose anytime Jason got near. As she began to part the curtains, he uttered near her ear, “We both loved her, you know. That doesn’t mean I should be punished for wanting you, too.”

  Stepping through the curtains, heart pounding in her chest, her mind seemed to be splitting in two. She wanted to comfort him, admit her own feelings, but Rose came before them, before anyone else. If not, then what kind of friend could Emma call herself?

  A bright light flooded the stage, breaking her focus. After a few seconds of squinting, her eyes adjusted. She could see most of the crowd. Her parents, Dr. Mason, Gladys, and Mrs. Hopkins filled up the first row. Other town council members were close to the front, too. The stomach jitters took over, and she remembered how much she despised public speaking. Too late now.

  “Hi, everyone—” She cleared her throat and started again. “I mean…. Hello, Charming High Alumnae and everyone who turned out for what we’d intended to be our tenth year reunion. This occasion has now become a tragic moment for all of us.” Pausing, she glanced down at her notes on the podium, attempting to gather strength amidst the sniffles, sounds of chairs scraping along the gym floor, and muffled sobs. Then she caught sight of a figure toward the back of the gymnasium. It looked an awful lot like Rose from far away; her cheerleader there in spirit.

  “Rose Briar was the best of us, the beacon of light for this dwindling town. She, like her father before her, put the town of Charming on her list of responsibilities and was determined to bring us into the next century. She had a ton of plans, which included historic landmark status as well as removing the old chemical factory to ensure the town’s safety.”

  Em glanced back at the spirit of Rose, or at least what she had thought was her spirit. The figure slowly stumbled forward, moving farther into the room. “But there was more to our reigning homecoming queen than saving everyone and everything. Her life inspired kindness and a true beauty. To share those memories, I have a slide—”

  “It can’t be.”

  The exclamation from one crowd member was followed up quickly by another. “That’s her.”

  She looked again at the person she’d mistaken for her friend’s spirit, visible to everyone. The floodlight on the stage disappeared, and the lights in the gym came on. Between the rows stood her friend, eyes dark and bloodshot, skin pale. Em’s mouth parted, and she wanted to go to her but couldn’t move. You’re alive.

  Sheriff Fowler and Dr. Mason moved from their chairs and began to approach Rose, arms outstretched in a tentative manner.

  “Sweetie, it’s us. I’m going to come closer to help you.” Mason reached for her arm, and Emma’s sickly friend let out a guttural growl, launching herself at the sheriff. Several screams filled the air, and Emma let out a gasp when the sound of torn flesh echoed over the cries. At that sound, the crowd jumped into action. Women and children ran for the door as Ewan, Dr. Mason, and a couple of other men she vaguely remembered grabbed for the wild woman gnawing on the sheriff’s shoulder. They pulled her off, and she thrashed about, fighting to free herself. However, with one man on each arm and another holding onto her legs, she couldn’t move.

  “No! Let her go,” Em yelled, running for the stage stairs. Her legs moved faster than her two-inch-heeled feet did, and she almost tripped on the last step. She inhaled sharply, ready to charge, when a strong arm encircled her waist and pulled her back. The only other people left in the gym were a group of men slowly moving her friend toward the door. Ewan remained behind and helped Fowler to his feet.

  “You need to release me. They’re hurting her.”

  “We have to get out of here,” Jason said into her ear.

  Rose howled and ripped her arm free from a deputy, scratching at Ewan’s younger brother, Peter, on her left. She was a madwoman, depraved and insane. Nothing like the person they’d known. In fact, this thing was an imposter. Then a popping noise, followed by a squelched and unearthly scream from Peter, filled the gym. Blood spurted into the air, and the creature that looked like Rose wildly sucked on Peter’s detached, bloody arm as his body fell to the floor.

  Sheriff Fowler drew his gun, yelling, “Freeze! Drop the arm, and get down on the ground.”

  No response came from the woman continuing her feeding frenzy on the arm in her possession. The other deputies looked on in horror. The sheriff cocked his gun, Rose lifted her head,
and bang! The shot hit center mass.

  “Noooo!” For the second time in a day, Emma sagged into Jason’s embrace as she watched her friend’s body fall to the floor. This was worse than the fever. She refused to watch any more. Her eyelids closed, horrified by the foulest case of violence this small town had ever experienced. Limbs numb, she could hardly object as her protector lifted her and carried her out of the building.

  ***

  Jason set Emma down long enough to open the door of his car. He coaxed her into the passenger seat, moving as fast as he could while still being gentle. Then, slamming the door shut, he hopped into the driver’s side. His ex was alive or something. At least she’d been moving. That concept, he couldn’t wrap his head around. Keys in the ignition, he started the car and backed out of the parking lot, determined to remove them from the high school before the guys paraded the dead body out of the gym.

  “How? I just—how? Doc declared her legally dead.”

  “I don’t know. You got me, but I’m sure the sheriff and Mason will get the whole thing figured out.”

  A sigh fell from her lips, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the road to offer sympathy. She let out a little laugh. “This is just a nightmare, right? We’re both going to wake up tomorrow and realize we’ve been sleeping through twenty four hours of fake hell. Right? I didn’t see my childhood friend eating someone’s arm?”

  “I can’t think about that right now,” he replied, pulling into her driveway. “I’ll walk you in since it looks like your parents are still out.”

  The house was dark, but even though he hadn’t been in her house in years, he remembered the hallway light switch next to the front door. Flicking it on, he watched Em slip out of her heels, kicking them across the floor toward the staircase. As he locked the front door behind them, a twinge in his gut told him it made sense to play things safe—just like in the big city.