The Rose

It was barely noticed. One world of brown mixture slithered down my parched throat and threatened to bury itself there with its poignant taste. My chin forced a closed smile. Mmmm. A caramel macchiato on a Saturday morning was just what every person needed before lugging off to work. To prove it, my emerald eyes added a dab of sparkle in my grin to match the morning sun dewily peering through the frost stained windows of my perch. All that remained was for it to come inside. My eyes nonchalantly meandered towards the door. Where was Ralph anyways? One glance at my butterscotch Rolex and I know he’s running late again. Maybe if he timed it right this time he’d be here in fifteen minutes. My stomach tied a knot; I couldn’t begin to imagine the excuses. Then, slowly, it’s time for another sip of caramel magic to roll off my lips, and downward to calm certain fate. One sour thought could be stowed for later. A truly jovial mood was as hard to find as a real lucky penny, and I wasn’t going to let Ralph spoil mine. But as I put my caramel genius down, my eyes falter at the door. I was going to have to open the coffee shop myself if he didn’t get here soon. More morning sunshine glints off the sweltering liquid as it again calms my taste buds. No worries; he’ll be here soon. And seemingly satisfied with itself, the beige snowman mug comes to rest on the rectangular bar in front of me. Perhaps it is simply the snowman and I, alighted upon our oaken bar stool, drinking the white light off of the window pains, and listening to Carol Channing warble the latest Broadway show tune on my IPOD. I savored the macchiato taste of my dreamy moment, but soon the Rolex again made its grand appearance upon my glancing eyes and everything again went mute. I shut off the IPOD, cutting Carol Channing’s high note in half. I couldn’t let this go on much longer or…never mind what. Tick… My heart was beginning to throb with every second that resounded from within my Rolex. Tick… Must I commit treason? Tick… Tick… ba-boom… ba-boom… throb… Tick… Tick…Tick…Tick… Ding! My heart whirled around as Ralph burst through the door, with the uninvited January dawn clinging to his black trench coat and bustling in behind him. Apologetic green eyes panted from behind thick square glasses and shaggy, snow-dotted dark brown hair. I had been wrong. Somehow he had bested me with 17 excruciating minutes and 39 painful pinpointed seconds. We now had 30 minutes to open and no time for pleasantries. I concentrated on the remainder of what Mr. Snowman had to offer and didn’t even glance up. But I could still imagine Ralph’s lanky form sulking up next to me and offering me an arm around my shoulders. When my eyes consented but I still refused, I also thought I heard him mumble a “sorry” then sit down next to me. But it was only the gray clouds of my imagination; besides, I was too engrossed in caramel to notice. Then, cautiously, “Adriana, you know it wasn’t on purpose.”

“Mhmm…,” I took another gulp, murmuring, “…somehow it always is.”

He reddened. “Fine, if you don’t want excuses, then can you at least forgive your little brother? I may be late, but I’m not dead.”

“Many would assume the latter.”

“Adriana! I…”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Here, have the rest.” I set my humble goblet of caramel snow into his hands, adding, “I’ll start with the register. I already swept.”

He quieted a minute at my cold abruptness, and then tried again. Siphoning the last bit of my delicacy, Ralph teased, “Tables too?”

In response, I brusquely meandered towards the register, straightening as I went, “You couldn’t be more comical, could you? Yes, I washed all the tables, Ralph.”

“My, are we grouchy this morning.”

“Not until you were born, I wasn’t,” I bristled as my smooth hands began dancing along the register.

“Aww…that’s not fair.”

“Yes it is.”

“By a whole fifteen minutes!!”

“All the more reason you managed seventeen today,” I nonchalantly flitted as I pulled out the cash drawer. Still motionlessly sitting at the bar stool, he remained silent. But since I’m not made of stone, seeing him sitting there like a delinquent condemned in a jail cell made me resound with a twinge of compassion for him. And, as I looked closer, that same twisted face made me forget my Rolex. So, softly, I managed, “Ralph, I was looking forward to having coffee with you this morning, and… well… we have a business to run. Just, please don’t do it again. It’s easy to dodge your responsibilities, but you can’t dodge the consequences…”

“…of dodging your responsibilities. Sir Josiah Stamp. I know, I know.”

I stopped for a moment and looked at his long face, “Dad was a wise man.”

Silence, then, “Yeah, how long ago was the accident?”

“Three years ago, next month.”

“I still can’t believe it was the day before Valentine’s Day.”

“Mom has a hard time with that one every year.”

Grief blanketed our silence as we remembered the occasion, but guilt completed mine. Dad was dead, and it was all my fault.

Copyright 2007 of Jessica Anne McLean. All rights reserved.