Las flores

"Las flores sobreviven dependiendo del amor con las que se regalan."

Every now and then, he would surprise her with flowers at her doorstep. Her eyes always glistened upon seeing them. But that was two springs ago. Winter came and consumed the petals and thorns, leaving only a white canvas.

He looks at his wardrobe panicked. He reaches for the tan sweater he wore the day he met her. He quickly puts it back. It’s almost summer now. It would be out of place. He slips into something more appropriate, and then takes a long look at his fragrances. His eyes dart to a rose-colored bottle. Without hesitation, he bathes his neck with the fragrance.

She stands in her room fully dressed. A cherry-red blouse that match her lips and crisp blue jeans. She is set on not giving him any glimpse of that past. She’s relived that first date infinitely in her daydreams since the lilies on her street blossomed two years ago. Every minute detail, tattooed on her mind.

She prefers to remember him from that day. Before she poured herself so recklessly into him. Before it became blurred where his body started and her body ended. Before she would plead the minute hands of her clocks to stop gliding to make every second with him eternal. Before the first discussions over situations she could no longer change but he would relent on. Before she had to remind herself that it wasn’t wasted time. Before winter.

He walks out of the house and starts to walk towards the coffee shop she told him. In his head, he tries to rehearse what he’ll say. It almost always goes from forced small talk to outbursts of “I’m sorry.”

She always felt unattainable to him. When he was younger, he would fantasize about how his beloved would be. But when he met her, he realized he was wrong the entire time. She was more than he could ever dream. It was only with her delicate touch and soft voice that he could anchor himself and know she was real.

His mental rehearsal comes to an end. He stands in front of the coffee shop and looks around with traces of nervous desperation. He takes a breath and isolates himself from the noise around him. His senses heighten. Silence. His heart beats “.. .. ..” Her name. Exhale.

She arrives and notices him from a distance leaning on the café’s wall. In the reflection of store window, she checks her eyes. Hours ago they were glossed over with tears, leaving a puffed appearance. Tears not of what had been, but of fear what could be if she succumbs to what lingers in her. Her eyes are clear. She walks towards him.

Before a word is uttered, their eyes greet each other. He speaks first. She reciprocates. They walk into the shop. He orders a black coffee, his usual. She notices it and makes sure to change her drink: lavender latte. He smirks in acknowledgment. They make their way to the outside seating, and sit at a table surrounded by yellow roses.

Now that he looks at her, the script he had written out for this very moment wilts. The past no longer concerns him. Just this moment. This new chance to look at her and lose himself in her aura. To relive what he felt the first time they sat here. Back when the roses were red and not yellow. He probes at what she’s been up to and listens attentively. She’s done all those things she mentioned to him on Sunday mornings over coffee.

She catches the lines around his mouth and sees him smile. She instinctively does the same. She quickly puts her head down trying to hide it. She cowers from what she realizes. All those dreams she reached, never made her feel how she feels now: at ease. As if returning to home from years abroad. Like two lovers sleeping in, if only to feel each other’s heat longer. Comfort. She takes a sip of her latte. She should have ordered her usual.

Their eyes begin to dance. They both share life updates in between sips. When one looks at their mug, the other glances up hoping to catch the face they endlessly recreated in their mind. They reminisce about this part of town. How the trees would always undress in winter and then return more beautiful in spring. They both silently relive the first spring they shared while looking down at their empty mugs. If they would have looked up, they would have seen the memory playing in each other’s pupils.

A blood-orange skyline signals the moon’s soon arrival. They get up and make their way to the shop’s exit. They look at each other delaying departure. Quick on his feet, he offers to walk her home. She accepts if only to hear his voice longer. They walk down the street filled with the trees they talked about. They slowly move closer but never touch. She resists the urge to wrap her arm around his. He constantly wipes his hand on his shirt, just in case.

They make it to her apartment. He opens the door for her and stands at her doorway. She looks back at him with eyes announcing a flood, fogging her vision. He understands and nods goodnight.

He walks out reliving the past hours they shared. Her hair invading her face from the wind at the shop. The first laugh he uprooted from her while walking. The urge to grab her hand by the trees. His love for her that allowed him to understand what she silently communicated at the doorway. He could have sworn he pulled her by her waist at the door. That her lips still moved the same in that embrace. And if it weren’t for the “goodnight” she uttered, it would be real.

She stares at the closed door and bursts into inaudible tears. She stumbles into her room. As she wipes the tears, she sees many of his gifts to her on her desk. She rushes to her drawer and pulls out a bag of old rose petals. His last flowers to her. She replays the walk here. She feels the heat of his body and the charming nature of his sweaty palms she locks with. She feels her heartbeat syncing with his. And at the doorstep, they seal it all with a kiss. The dry petals bloom again.

She rushes back to her doorstep and swings the door open. The stubborn silhouette of his scent stands in front of her. She inhales in between a cry knowing he’s gone. She stops and captures the scent fully. His perfume. Roses and lilies at her doorstep. Tears drip down to her smile. A rainbow.

Spring, stay forever.