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“Chris?”
“Yes honey?”
“There was a black rose taped to my front door.”
I thought I could hear him chuckle. “It’s not black, it’s only dead. Technically it’s more like dark red. With a little bit of—”
“CHRIS!”
“What?”
“Why was there a DEAD ROSE taped to my front fucking door!”
He paused as he usually did, whenever I seriously yelled at him. At first I thought it was a natural recoil. Later on, I’d realize it was only a ploy for sympathy. A way to get me to calm down.
“It’s not just a dead rose,” he said defensively. “It’s a special rose.”
“A what?”
“It’s not any rose…” he went on. “It’s one of the first dozen roses I ever gave you.”
I jerked my head back, as if the answer were a bullet to the head. I still didn’t understand.
“The first dozen roses you—”
“Remember when we first started dating? And I brought you a dozen red—”
“Yeah, yeah. So what?”
“Well you threw them out,” he said matter-of-factly. “And when you weren’t looking, I swiped them out of the garbage and saved them. I took them home and hung them upside down. You know, to keep them preserved.”
His voice contained a measure of pride now. Like he’d accomplished some secret mission long ago, and were only now able to tell me about it.
“And why the FUCK would you take them out of the—”
“Because I knew you’d eventually want them.”
He punctuated the statement with a little laugh, as if I were being irrationally silly. “C’mon Brooke, even you have to admit it’s a little romantic. And hey, save that one. I still have the other eleven, and I wouldn’t want—”
“CHRIS!” I screamed. “You can’t just—”
“How come you didn’t come home last night?”
His words sent a cold shiver though my exhausted body. For the next few seconds, I was deadly silent.
“Baby? Still there?”
I didn’t answer. Not right away.
“I was in the neighborhood,” he continued by way of explanation, “so I dipped into our apartment complex. I saw that your car was gone — pretty late, mind you — and I got sorta worried.”
“W—Worried?”
“Yes, Brooke. Worried. It was way too late for you to be out on your own. It’s just asking for trouble. Inviting all kinds of—”
“And what makes you think I was out alone?”
I couldn’t believe I was answering to him, but there it was. In my defense I was half-stunned, half frightened. And totally, utterly tired.
