Status: completed one-shot.
The Cheap Bouquet
if i die young, we can wake up screaming in your bed
The flowers seemed to be wilting already. Though they had only been in the vase for a day. The petals wept and the leaves drooped. I lifted one with a single finger, as if trying to coax it back into bloom. Once my finger released it though, it collapsed again, though lower than before. I shrugged, and smiled regardless.
Flowers were flowers. Especially from him. Didn’t matter how cheap they were. A cheap bouquet was better than any expensive one. I’d rather he save the money. Still, they were nice to have received when he came over for dinner last night. I frowned. I hadn’t heard from him since he left late, after dinner. He wanted to go home because he had an early shift this morning. I looked at the clock above the vase in the dining room. It was after five. I should’ve heard something by now.
I picked up my phone, unlocking it and opening up the call application. No missed calls. But I did have a voicemail. As I tapped on the icon, my phone lit up with an unknown number. Peculiar. I answered. And then wished that I hadn’t. A calm female voice told me a car had driven off the bridge last night. She said it seemed that it had been on purpose. When I screamed and started crying, she asked if she could send someone to collect me and bring me to their offices. I don’t remember replying. Just screaming.
After hanging up, I realized my legs had failed me and I had collapsed to the ground. He hadn’t been unhappy. He hadn’t been depressed. Not for a while. Why had he gone and left me? I screamed, and threw my phone against the couch. It fell between the cushions and I curled up against the wall, hitting the side of my head repeatedly. There was no way he was gone. He had seemed different last night. But there was no way he would’ve done what she said. We were happy. He was happy. I was happy. We were happy.
Were.
After a few minutes, I calmed down enough to remember the voicemail. Trivial now, it seemed. But I crawled across the floor and reached into the cushions for my phone. The cool box in my hand, I tapped open the voicemail again. I hit speaker, and his voice surrounded me.
“As I drive my car into the sea, will someone tell me what it means to be alive?” His voice sounded so distant. Like he wasn’t even there with it. “It feels just like the feeling when you die.” The sound of his car breaking through the metal railing was like a metallic scream in my ears. “Oh. All right. I’m dead and I don’t care if it’s cold outside anymore…” I could hear the water rushing into the car. Rushing and swishing and thundering against the inside. “I want you to know that I…” The water consumed the microphone and there was only a few seconds of gurgling and struggling noises before it ended in static and white noise.
And then I felt what I was sure he had been feeling. A weight on my chest so painful and heavy that I couldn’t breathe. He was actually gone and he had meant to do it. I tapped his name and opened his photo. He was smiling, arms wrapped around me. He was laughing, and happy. I started rocking back and forth. I could die right now. For something beautiful to take me somewhere else.
On the table, the cheap bouquet was crying, petals falling against the tablecloth.
Flowers were flowers. Especially from him. Didn’t matter how cheap they were. A cheap bouquet was better than any expensive one. I’d rather he save the money. Still, they were nice to have received when he came over for dinner last night. I frowned. I hadn’t heard from him since he left late, after dinner. He wanted to go home because he had an early shift this morning. I looked at the clock above the vase in the dining room. It was after five. I should’ve heard something by now.
I picked up my phone, unlocking it and opening up the call application. No missed calls. But I did have a voicemail. As I tapped on the icon, my phone lit up with an unknown number. Peculiar. I answered. And then wished that I hadn’t. A calm female voice told me a car had driven off the bridge last night. She said it seemed that it had been on purpose. When I screamed and started crying, she asked if she could send someone to collect me and bring me to their offices. I don’t remember replying. Just screaming.
After hanging up, I realized my legs had failed me and I had collapsed to the ground. He hadn’t been unhappy. He hadn’t been depressed. Not for a while. Why had he gone and left me? I screamed, and threw my phone against the couch. It fell between the cushions and I curled up against the wall, hitting the side of my head repeatedly. There was no way he was gone. He had seemed different last night. But there was no way he would’ve done what she said. We were happy. He was happy. I was happy. We were happy.
Were.
After a few minutes, I calmed down enough to remember the voicemail. Trivial now, it seemed. But I crawled across the floor and reached into the cushions for my phone. The cool box in my hand, I tapped open the voicemail again. I hit speaker, and his voice surrounded me.
“As I drive my car into the sea, will someone tell me what it means to be alive?” His voice sounded so distant. Like he wasn’t even there with it. “It feels just like the feeling when you die.” The sound of his car breaking through the metal railing was like a metallic scream in my ears. “Oh. All right. I’m dead and I don’t care if it’s cold outside anymore…” I could hear the water rushing into the car. Rushing and swishing and thundering against the inside. “I want you to know that I…” The water consumed the microphone and there was only a few seconds of gurgling and struggling noises before it ended in static and white noise.
And then I felt what I was sure he had been feeling. A weight on my chest so painful and heavy that I couldn’t breathe. He was actually gone and he had meant to do it. I tapped his name and opened his photo. He was smiling, arms wrapped around me. He was laughing, and happy. I started rocking back and forth. I could die right now. For something beautiful to take me somewhere else.
On the table, the cheap bouquet was crying, petals falling against the tablecloth.
♠ ♠ ♠
606 words