Small Yellow Flowers

How'd we meet? Simple. Well, simple, but complicated, you know what I mean? Just like love, it has its ups and downs. I remember it like it was yesterday.

I was excited. I'd met this wonderful girl online. The chatroom was titled “Bored” and, at first, seemed nothing more than a breeding ground for teenagers, automated “bots” (fake names just selling terrible things), and possible pedophiles. I was bored out of my mine, which made this the perfect chatroom. No one else was in there though. Well, no one worth talking to, rather a bunch of sex-crazed random people out there.

I just sent out an instant message saying anyone interested in talking and not trying to hook up can talk to me. Nothing at first. I figured it was a bad idea and was about to close the box.

“Like what?” was the response. It caught me off-guard. I hadn't expected anyone to respond to my old-fashioned message. I knew teens wouldn't thank goodness.

“I don't know. How old are you?”

“24. You?”

“26. Too old?”

“No, but since we are just talking it doesn't really matter, does it?”

“True true.”

We talked about books, music, jobs, love lives (which we didn't really have, but lied about) and lots of other stuff. The discussions were rather subtle at first, avoiding anything specific that would reveal who we were, which was fine with me. I liked this person and didn't want it to be ruined by knowing her. More often than not, we talked about our days and how they were going. Random things that didn't really make sense but were amazing to the two of us. Pretty superficial stuff that proved more meaningful than first realized.

My life was going in a million directions at the time. I was engaged (yes, engaged) and looking at a possible promotion at work. I was an associate architect at a large firm in Huntsville, Alabama. I had great visions for the world and desperately wanted to show them off. If I got the promotion, that would make me a partner in the firm. If I got married, that would please my parents to no end. A lot was riding on me at the time.

I was given the chance to work on a project, which would land me the partnership. I worked hard, spending every possible moment working on the designs. My fiancee felt neglected, which I expected. I was more interested in working on the project and getting it done.

“Honey, with this we'll never have to worry about money. Everything will be taken care of.”

“But what about our marriage? Isn't that more important than some stupid promotion?”

“Only if we want to be poor and struggling to make any kind of living.”

This was the usual we had every night. I would go to my new found friend and ask her for advice, which she gave in portions which were much smaller than I'd have liked. Try talking to her, she'd say. Ask her what you need to do, she'd say. Try to understand where she is coming from, she'd say. Personally, I didn't know what to do at all.

Later on, the proposal came up. I was a nervous wreck, praying I would survive and everything come out the way it should. No, I was praying everything would go the way I wanted. Hard thing to admit, my friend, but I did. I was being selfish.

Which it did, to some point. I won the project for the company and was given the promotion several weeks later. That was fine with me, as long as I was made partner.

Problems, however, developed. Like I said, things did go my way...to some point. That point was my fiancee, as depressing as it was. She threw the engagement ring at me, saying I was nothing but a selfish pig who didn't want to be married, just get married so everything would “look like it was supposed to.” I denied this over and over again.

“Isn't there just someway we can work this out?”

“No.”

“You're sure?”

“Yes. Goodbye.”

“Please, you can't do this! We can do something, I know we can. Why can't we just try?”

And with that, she was gone. I had no idea what to think. I just stood there for a minute and let it all sink in that she was gone.

I went to the computer. My friend wasn't online at the moment, so I just sent a lengthy email.

Please understand I have no idea what to say or do right now. A dear loved one has just left my life and I have no idea what to do. See? I'm even repeating myself.

Have you ever felt like the whole world is crashing down on you and you can't stop it? I think it just did. I got the promotion at work, the one I was telling you about, but at a cost I didn't see coming. Maybe I should have paid more attention to her rather than what I wanted out of life.

Does that make me a terrible person, wanting to succeed in life and make a name for myself? I've never really viewed it as that, just went on with myself doing what I could to get things done. Maybe it was from my parents having such high expectations for their dear sweet boy.

I don't mean to annoy you with all this junk, stuff I'm sure you've already stopped reading and moved on to the next email, which doesn't really bother me. I would if I was you and reading something like this. Just understand that this friendship means a lot to me, no matter who you are.

From me.

Thus, I sent the message out into cyberspace, hoping it would be delivered to where I wanted it to go. I closed my laptop and just sat there. Why did I find comfort in a stranger I had never met or seen before? These questions bothered me for a long time, longer than I'd preferred but life goes on, right?

The response came almost within an hour. I'd actually been asleep though. It was Saturday, my only day off. I slept through the response and wondered if she was upset with me. I don't know what I'd have done if she'd been upset. Maybe kill myself, but that's a little much I'm sure.

Anyway, the response scared me at first then made me so happy I could never express it. She had been having troubles, that much I knew. Not like mine, which were way more severe. She was having emotional troubles, wanting to do different things, but feeling she was unable to since she was a woman in a man's world. I told her not to care and fight with everything she had. Men would respect her after that. She'd done what I'd said and felt a small step in progress had been made.

The response was short, sweet, and to the point. Why don't we just meet and get that over with? That was the whole message. The subject hadn't even been entered. I wondered if she had just sat at the computer debating about sending it for an hour, you know?

That's what I did, though. I just sat there, rereading the message over and over. Did it really say that? Did she really want to meet me? You know, all the questions you hate to ask but desperately want answered. Just about anything you ask a woman, right? In my opinion, these questions should never have to be answered, just known. Such a dreamer, aren't I?

Anyways, I couldn't decide what I wanted to do. I paced back and forth a few times watching the computer as if it were a monster ready to kill me. I sat down at the computer and responded just like you'd expect.

Where? When? I have an apartment on Governor's Drive if you wanna meet there? I was a little over excited to understate it just a little. I'd fallen in love with someone I'd never met and wanted to meet her and see exactly who it was I'd fallen in love with.

As it turns out, we decided on a bookstore just a little ways up from me. It was a large building and had a wide selection, one of the biggest in Huntsville. I would meet her there, carrying yellow roses so she would know who I am.

I spent forever getting ready to meet this woman. I tried on different outfits, showered two or three times and brushed my teeth ninety times. Mouth wash and more mouth wash was used. You name it, I tried it.

So there I was, holding yellow flowers and sitting in the café attached to the bookstore. The café was big, lots of people there. I ordered a Mocha and sat down where I could see the door.

The place was packed to the walls. Two or three were sitting on their computers using the wireless the store had. I'd used it before and it was one of my favorite things to do. All you had to do was buy this discount card and it was free or you could pay $5.50 a day. I used the stuff so much my card had been paid for at least fifty times.

The mocha was stronger than usual, but I needed it tonight. I was a nervous wreck, not being sarcastic or anything like that. I was seriously a wreck. I stared at the flowers for a while and watched them shake. Rather embarrassing but true as true can be.

Three people were just sitting by themselves reading random books. I had nothing but my drink and the flowers. The door opened and I strained to see who it was. An elderly man walking to the newspapers. I refused to read the newspapers. I got an update once a day and that was it. I hated how biased the news people were, one way or the other. It was a little too much for me. I simply read the small updates and made my own opinions rather than listen to idiots thrust their opinions down my throat.

There was some kind of study group, nursing I think. Don't really remember all that well, but hey, who does? They were having fun, cutting up, and eating café items and drinks.

I sat there for a few minutes, finished my mocha and threw it away. I smelled the flowers and checked my watch. 8:30pm. We'd agreed to meet at 8, but I wasn't too worried. Traffic in Huntsville was evil. I decided to walk the store and look around. Fiction was right next to the café. I walked right into the Stephen King section.

King was, and still is, one of my favorites. It's just amazing how a man can write things that scare you to death, then write things that change your life and make you really think. Scary things like 'salem's Lot and amazing stories like Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption. I walked on passed there and looked at a few other authors. Karen Kingsbury, but not one of my favorites. My mother likes her.

I walked to the center aisle and made my way to the magazines. I'm not really a magazine person either. I just needed something to look at while I waited. I passed biography and then entered military history. I liked military books, still do. I love reading about World War II and anything related to it.

I passed that and saw pets, nature, test preparation, business, music, social science and true crime.

I got to the magazines and just stared at them. I didn't have a preference on what to read, just was trying to waste as much time as possible. I picked up a copy of something random.

The flowers were sorta droopy at this point. I walked to the register and stood there. My mind was in a million places, I remember. I was hurt, confused, and upset. Well, not on the outside. I had it all bottled up inside of me, which is where it belonged if you ask me. And even if you didn't, that's where it belongs.

I smiled at the cashier and went through the usual routine.

Fine thanks, you?

That's good.

Yes, I had a card.

No, I don't want a bag.

Take care.

And with that, I walked away. I stopped at the end of the registers and just looked at the flowers. I could feel tears coming to my eyes, but I fought them off. I didn't want to put on a display there. I looked at the garbage can and threw the flowers away. With that, I left.

I went home and was depressed. I threw the book down on the kitchen table and walked to the bed room. I started stripping down to my undershirt and boxers. I fell on my bed, laying on my back, and cried. So much had happened to me I didn't know what to expect or to do. I had been left by not one, but two women within days of each other, no, hours of each other. Slowly, I fell asleep.

I woke up to banging and had no idea what it was. It scared me, just like Stephen King, right? Anyways, I got up slowly and walked to the door. I picked up a knife in the kitchen and was ready to defend myself. There I was, in my undershirt and boxers, about to fight off someone with a steak knife. I know you'd be scared.

I carefully opened to the door. There, standing right before, was her. She was holding the yellow flowers, damaged and stained with some kind of liquid I could only assume was coffee. She'd gotten my address from the bookstore and my discount card. She smiled at me and looked at the flowers.

“These would probably be better in water, don't ya think?”