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The cemetery was only a few minutes away from my house, and I promised I would go see her every day. Everyday has run into three whole years. Three whole years since my mother died. I pause at the old cottage house that has it’s yard adorned with a magnificent garden, roses hanging over the aged white fence like it’s trying to break it down. Poppies, lavender, foxgloves, sunflowers and so much more; all grown by the old woman who lives here.
I became friends with her a few months ago, when she noticed that I always paused to admire her work. She struck up a conversation with me, and after explaining where I go, she offered me the proposition that I could take a flower with me from her garden each time I went. Of course I tried to deny it and offered to pay for what I took but she was so stubborn, wouldn’t take no for an answer till I caved in.
I smile to myself and take a rose carefully between my fingers and gingerly remove the stem from the bush. I bring it up to my nose and inhale. Yes.. mom would like this one-
“HEY!”
I jump back and about drop the flower at the shout. Looking up, I see a man, who looks about my age, standing at the front door of the old woman’s house. Hands on his hips, eyes narrowed in a glare, pretty sure his nostril is flared up in anger as well. I can’t speak- I just stand there frozen in fear that I did something wrong- not even him stomping down the sidewalk just to jab his finger at my chest can make me move.
“Don’t think I don’t notice.” He growls up at me.
“I- What?” I squeak out a reply, keeping the rose out of his reach so it doesn’t get bruised.
“You stealing my grandmother’s flowers. You’ve been doing it every. single. day. for the past week!”
Oh my god- he thinks I’ve been stealing these- he doesn’t know the old woman gave me permission to- I open my mouth to explain but he cuts me off.
“This girl better be pretty enough to warrant flower theft. Especially from the elderly.” He pushes a hand to my back to make me walk in the direction I was going. Oh dear god- is he following me to see where this flower goes? Does he think I’m on a date?
I just keep quiet and let him walk next to me, glancing over from time to time to get a better look at him. His features from the side are very sharp; from his nose, to his jaw, even his eyes. He's got a very bold haircut too- two toned undercut that he seems to like to spike up. He glances over at me and I quickly look away to hide that I was staring. A blush comes to my cheeks because I know I was blatantly staring and that's rude. But he’s pretty cute- terrifying but cute.
We walk in silence for another minute before I turn to walk through the cemetery gate. I hear a small and hesitant ‘uh’ behind me. I pause and look over my shoulder at him, giving a small smile.
“Come on.” I usher him to keep following me and he does so till we come to my mother’s grave. I kneel down and place the rose at the foot of the stone that is labeled, ‘Rest in Peace, Marcia Bodt: Loving wife and mother.’ I straighten up and smile to myself.
“Mom, I brought a visitor today. He’s just making sure I was putting the flowers I bring you to good use. I think you would like him.”
“Jean.”
I blink and turn to look back at the man who seems to be embarrassed about the whole ordeal. He sighs and repeats himself again. “My name is Jean- and.. I’m sorry about this whole..”
I wave my hand with a small laugh to dismiss him. “No no- it’s okay. You didn’t know. The old lady and I talked a while back and she lets me take a flower to bring here.”
Jean pinches the bridge of his nose, “Why didn’t you explain that before?” He asks, seeming to try and compose himself.
I chuckle and shrug my shoulders, “You.. seemed so adamant about it.”
That brings a small smile to his face, “Okay, you got me there.. it’s just that.. she’s my grandmother and she hasn’t been feeling well lately and that garden means a lot to her…” He scratches the back of his neck, “What’s your name?”
“Marco.”
He repeats my name to himself with a small nod, glancing around with his cheeks tinting pink. “As an apology.. would you like to have tea with my grandmother and I tomorrow? That is- if you’re coming by.”
I can feel myself grin a little, touched by his offer. “I am. Tomorrow then.”
Jean nods again and gives me a more sincere smile now, “Tomorrow.”