The Memory of Flowers by Anna Kvasnik

-Present-

The leaves fell from the stems of the flowers I’d picked from my mother’s flower beds, the silver blades of my scissors scraping together as they snip snipped through the bouquet I’d made. Years ago, I’d watched her plant her favorites, knowing that her only daughter would enjoy picking a few to arrange in a vase on the table. “Bouquets make me feel better,” I always said as I set the flowers out, “like life is brighter.” 

Perhaps, though, that was simply my past speaking, and yet a lot of the time, it felt like they’d been with me through it all…

-Last Month-

He showed up on my doorstep, shifting awkwardly from side to side with a bouquet of tulips in his hands. Through the peephole of the door, I studied him curiously. Bundled up in his winter coat, the vibrant colors seemed out of place. Yet, who was I to complain when my boyfriend brought me flowers?

“Hey.” I smiled at him, stepping onto the porch as I slipped my arms into the sleeves of my jacket. “What’re you doing here?” The breeze brushed by my chilled hands–a warm one, despite the shade cast over us by the house.

An uncomfortable smile crossed his face, then he held out his full arms. “I brought you flowers.”

Carefully, I took them from him, cradling each of the blooms gently with my arm. “Well, thank you. You know you didn’t have to do that.” My smile grew, something the flowers would never do again, and as I did so, I studied his face. “Do you want to come in while I put them in some water?”

If anything, he managed to look even more uncomfortable, shifting on his feed and looking down briefly. “Uh, no. Thank you. I’ve actually got some things I need to do. I just wanted to deliver those.”

“Okay. Thank you, again.” My lips tugging downward in a faint frown, I shifted the flowers in my grasp. The slight prickle of flower stems and leaves brushed my palm as I cradled the blooms in one arm, managing to free one to reach out for a side hug. He twisted his lips up in a smile, but it seemed forced. And then he walked to his car, shut the door behind himself, and slowly drove away. 

Having watched his car disappear down the road, I slipped back inside, burying my face in the blooms and melting against the wall as I relaxed into the faintly sweet aroma. Tyler might be awkward at times, perhaps confuzzling, but he was good to me. 

Perhaps too good. 

-Present-

It was staring at the tulip in my hand that I remembered. And it hurt, sometimes, how each flower would have a memory that it hadn’t been alive for, and yet, every single time I looked at one, I remembered. 

There had been times where I’d looked up what the flowers meant, because for a while, I’d found it both interesting and a good excuse to stare at pictures of flowers. The tulip definition I’d found years ago that I remembered most clearly was “new beginnings,” but it was restricted to white tulips. My tulips weren’t white. They were orange, yellow, and pink. 

I should’ve known that Tyler would figure that I’d look up the meanings of certain flowers. Perhaps he had simply hoped that I’d understand what he meant by giving me these flowers. But it should’ve crossed my mind that he must’ve meant something by leaving flowers and then ghosting me. 

The flowers were beautiful, but they didn’t mean anything good when you were looking into the meanings of them. 

Orange, yellow, and pink tulips meant apology. 

-Seven Months Ago-

I laughed, the long grass tickling my bare legs as I walked, hand-in-hand with Tyler. “We’re going to get caught!” I squealed, trying to be soft, but he kept making me laugh. The fact that we were technically trespassing on private property didn’t dull my pleasure. 

Tyler grinned at me, his blue eyes sparkling. “We won’t. Nobody ever comes here. Besides, I had to get the perfect flower for the perfect girl.”

I felt my cheeks heat as laughter kept bubbling out of me. “There isn’t anything here but long weeds!”

“So you say.” Tyler raised an eyebrow.

With one last grin, I took off, leaving him to chase after me. But in the long grass, I stumbled, catching myself only a few times before I finally fell, giggling breathlessly as I rolled onto my back. Tyler was at my side in an instant, bending down over me. 

For a second, I thought he would be concerned, but his eyes were still glimmering with tears of laughter even as he looked away from the sunlight. He reached a hand down and I reached for it, but with his other hand, he swatted my hand away, picking a flower and handing it to me. With a cheeky grin, he tilted his head. I thought I saw him wink. “What’s this?”

“A weed!” My answer was determined and loud, stealing away what breath I had and leaving me gasping for air between new puffs of laughter. 

“I see.” Tyler shook his head, mouth quirking to the side. “I suppose I’ve got to leave you there and force you to smell the flowers, then.”

“Hey!” I was still laughing as he disappeared from my view, leaving my vision lined with tall grasses. I tried to pull myself up, but I was too breathless. “Help me up!”

More wildflowers landed on me–these ones cornflowers and violets–drifting down onto my face, tickling my arms and sending spores of pollen and other allergens up my nose. I sneezed.

“Admit that they’re flowers!” Tyler stood over me, grinning as he sprinkled more flowers on me. He settled his hands on his hips. “Accept defeat.” 

“Okay! Okay.” I fought another sneeze, brushing the flowers off my torso. “They’re flowers.”

-Present-

I should’ve looked up the flowers afterward. They were pretty, but even those had meaning. Wildflowers… distinctly unique but so similar to a disappointment many know and suffer. 

Single blessedness.

It was a jab, of sorts. As if Tyler was saying that he hoped I would be blessed, but not in a relationship, not with him, not when he was still the fake he was. Probably not even after. 

Hopefully, not after.

I snipped the leaves off of a cornflower and added it to my growing arrangement of flowers.

They all looked different, but with each one came a new, unwanted memory. And a wish that things could only have worked out for good, just this once…

-Five Months Ago-

“So, for homecoming, what kind of corsage should I get you?” The question came as we walked leisurely, side-by-side towards my home. The sun had just crested over the trees, setting beautifully as I enjoyed the moment, soaking in the final rays and storing them up for when it became dark and lonely later on that night. 

“Do you need those for homecoming?” I mused.

“I’m getting you one for homecoming,” Tyler persisted.

I smiled, rolling my eyes and bumping him with my shoulder. “I don’t need one, though.”

Tyler didn’t reply, just raised an eyebrow at me. 

I laughed softly, trying to huff at him through the laughter. “Fine. What about… white something? A white flower. Roses, maybe.” I just named the first flower that came to mind.

Tyler smiled, seeming satisfied. “Good.”

I smiled back at him and looped my arm through his, leaning into him. “You spoil me, you know.”

“Is it still called spoiling someone when they don’t want to be spoiled?” 

I laughed, letting go of his arm for a moment to poke him. “Yes, you persistent charmer.”

Tyler laughed with me. “I like that one.”

I rolled my eyes, a smile dancing across my lips. “You would.”

My house loomed above us, a giant sign that shouted, “Time to say goodbye.”

I slid my arm out of his and cast him one last smile. “See you at homecoming.”

-Present-

I felt a prick and my hand jerked back from the flower I had been holding, almost of its own volition. Bright red blood beaded on my thumb, darkening as I lingered a moment too long. Dabbing it with one of the wet paper towels the flowers were wrapped in, I went back to work, leaving the thorns on the roses as I carefully arranged them in the jar. 

Despite the paper towels though, I’d let the flowers sit out too long on such a hot, dry summer day. A few of the flowers were starting to droop. I picked up another rose and a barely-crispy petal fell to the floor, my gaze following it as it fluttered down. 

My heart gave a pang. 

White roses. Secrecy and wistfulness. Dried white roses. Sorrow. 

Scoffing softly, I adjusted my shoulders. “He doesn’t deserve it,” I told myself. “He doesn’t deserve anything anymore.” He’s not a good person. He doesn’t deserve you being sad.

A list of assorted lies sprang to mind, but I bit the rest of them back, knowing they came from the hurt inside of me. All the same, they were lies I wanted to believe. Lies that mixed with the truths until I didn’t know what was real anymore. 

Pushing the rest of the flowers into the vase, I realized that I felt heavier than before. Unsurprising, considering the cumulation of the depressing thoughts. Letting out a small sigh, I lifted the vase to my nose and slowly breathed in. 

1…2…3…

Setting the vase back onto the table and rearranging a few of the buds, I admired my work, the irregularity striking me as beautiful in its own way. 

Lifting my chin ever so slightly, I sucked in another fortifying breath. “I’m over you, Tyler,” I told myself, gripping the table tightly. “You can’t take what I love away from me.” 

Because I’m pretty sure I never loved you. 

And because flowers are the one thing I’ll never get over.

So, no one and nothing can ever take that love away from me, because I refuse to let it, and because I determine what deserves my feelings.

And a fraud doesn’t deserve anything but the wisp of a memory full of wishes that things didn’t have to turn out the way they did.

Through my mind flitted the idea that just because an individual can be thought of due to a flower in your hand, they don’t need to get your emotions, too. Just a memory of what could’ve been could fill the hole they left. 

Even that rift repairs itself.

Until finally, all that’s left is the memory of flowers.