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“Who cares about that when you could be doing what makes you happy?”
“You do, Rose.”
“No, I don’t.” She immediately counters.
“Yes, you do. Why aren’t you following your passion? Why do you sell other people’s paintings instead of your own?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“That’s hypocritical. Even your choice in men shows me you do care.” Her hand is nowhere near mine anymore. “What is it about Greg that made you date him? I’m damn sure it wasn’t his passion for finance. Fuck, it’s not even the way he fucks you!” I scoff, my wounds from the past bleeding again. These, though, these somehow feel newly inflicted.
“It’s security, stability, and the prospect of a good and stable life. That’s just the fucking circle of life, baby. You choose what brings you the best chance to succeed. What keeps you at the top of the damn food chain. It’s called evolution, buttercup.”
I don’t mean for bitterness to infuse my voice, but it’s too heavy to miss. I catch Rose’s light flinch at my accusation. The small veil of hurt in her face trespassing my heart, as I finally realize why it is that I dislike that fucker with so much conviction. He’s the perfect match for her. That’s fucking why. She was right, he does tick off all the fucking boxes. Dots all the ‘i’s’, crosses all the ‘t’s’.
Unlike me. I have warning signs everywhere you look. I’m like radioactive fucking material.
We haven’t moved, we are still sitting in the same spot, but the distance is palpable between us. Rose lets her body slump back into her chair. I lost her to her thoughts again while I kick myself for being such a jerk.
“That’s why she left you?”
“What?” I heard her, but she caught me off guard again. She’s been doing that a lot today.
“That’s why Claudia left you.” No longer a question. “Do you still love her?” Rose’s face is both filled with expectation and dread, as she waits for my answer. Why? Why did she burst into my room last night with the fire of a fight in her eyes only to back down and snuggle with me instead? Why did she try to mend me, to comfort me, when her words mirrored nothing but the truth. Why does she care? She never did, I made damn sure of it.
“It doesn’t matter. I learn from my past mistakes and make sure not to repeat them.” Dread wins. Hers and mine. Apparently that isn’t the right answer in her book.
“That’s wise.” Rose’s voice was small, as was she, curled in her seat, her food long forgotten. “But I can prove you wrong.”
“Ha! Really?” Sarcasm and skepticism. I very much doubt she can prove that her life choices don’t revolve around what is expected of a good girl like her. I’m sure she has her wedding planned in her head, her kids' names picked out, complete with the large white picket fence house they would all live in, thriving in the prosperity of Greg's proper, bland and passionless job.
“Don’t be a dick, Archer.” She cuts through my shit. “Yes, really. I thought of showing you something when you said we were coming into the city. But if you’re going to act like this, I’m not so sure I should.” Rose stands from her seat, grabs her stuff and darts out the restaurant. I grab a couple of bills from my wallet, throwing them on the table before I follow her out into the damn cold.
Just fucking perfect. It’s snowing again!
Rose has her back to me, but it doesn’t take a genius to know that she's holding on by a thread. Whatever it was, it’s important to her. I immediately regret not being able to keep my temper at bay, there’s just something about Rose that just takes everything in me to the extreme.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be such an asshole. It’s just a touchy subject.” She hears me but doesn’t acknowledge my words. I step close and hug her from behind. “Some step-in Valentine I am. Please show me?”
I turn her to me and kiss her. She doesn’t melt into it like all the other times, but she doesn’t push me away. I pull back and hold her face in my hand, burying my gaze deep in her hypnotic sapphires. “Please?” I give her a playful peck on the nose. “Pretty please?” Another on her neck. I keep kissing and tickling her until she relents and gives me a genuine smile. It’s small but I’ll take it.
“God, Jay. You can be such an ass!”
“I know. It’s one of my finest qualities. Come on. Lead the way.”
We walk in silence, further aided by the small snowflakes coating the streets, and muffling our steps. I make a point to hold her hand while we make our way to wherever she’s taking us.
Rose doesn’t speak for what seems like eternity, her face showing me she is still lost in deep thought. Her hair is filled with little white flecks that shine under the cold winter sun. It’s fire and ice, literally.
I grunt and snort as I wipe my hair from them. But the fuckers are relentless. “Fucking snow.”
“It’s so beautiful. Why is it that you hate snow so much?” I want to retreat into a corner and not tell her. I don’t want to go there again. She senses my hesitation, mercifully, deciding against pushing the matter further. “Come, it’s right up ahead.”
Within a couple of minutes, I’m staring at a gigantic mural. A soldier down on one knee, his head bowed down, resting his rifle on his thigh. There’s a red rose down its barrel. Flowers, not bullets.
The American flag behind him has small inscriptions on the red stripes, and there’s a large inscription on top. ‘Names that matter.’ I look down to the right bottom corner and see it. Another rose before the initials RV.
“You did this? This is amazing, Rose!”
