Every Rose Read online

  Every Rose

  Lynetta Halat

  Published by Lynetta Halat at Smashwords

  Copyright 2013 Lynetta Halat

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  68 80 71 82 79 85 80 32 69 88 67 76 85 83 73 86 69

  Photo credit: Judy Merrill-Smith

  “Rose Among Thorns”

  Cover design: Katrina Joyner

  http://ebookcovers4u.wordpress.com/

  Prologue

  I’ve never liked roses. Well, that’s not completely true. I love roses growing, especially unexpectedly, wild. But cut roses, no matter how arranged, repulse me. The actual act trimming them to force them into a mold, conforming them to what society expects them to be—thornless, almost leafless—to me lifeless—is horrifying, almost sacrilege.

  I didn’t always hold this particular, admittedly strange, philosophy on roses. Honestly, if I hadn’t been the analytical type, I probably never would have explored my feelings on the subject. However, I’ve just wrapped up my undergraduate experience with a double major—English and history with a pre-law declaration, which means I analyze. Some would call it overanalyzing, but I consider that a misnomer. I’ve also been experiencing a completely life-altering, for a lack of a better word, “event” that has left me contemplating specifics like roses, tattoos, love, life, existence.

  During my summer break before I’m expected at law school, I’ve decide to test my limits and pen a few words about my recent event. Someone crucial to my very being suggested that I had repressed my urge, my need to create. He was right: I’ve never experienced anything like my current overwhelming state. It threatens to overcome all that I am. So I’ve decided to have a little faith in myself. Am I destined for law school? Or, do I yearn for something grander, something unexpected, something unpruned, something wild?

  Chapter One

  Lesser of Two Evils

  “What do you mean you’re closing the store for Christmas vacation?! I always work Christmas vacations.” I could hear the whining tone of my voice and feel the gears turning, showing me my alternatives. Christmas with my family. Mom pretending. Stepdad drinking. Yeah, no thanks.

  Elise looks over the top of her glasses to pin me with her gaze, and her words cut to the core. “Of course you have worked every Christmas. Working provides you with the perfect excuse not to go home. It’s called avoidance, and it’s no good.” Before I can respond, she changes gears; and her ever-present infectious smile overtakes her face while her gray-green eyes light up. “My son asked me to go up for the holidays, so I’m closing the store and doing just that.”

  I feel tears spring to my eyes. It was final then. She would do anything to spend time with her beloved son and grandson. There was no way I could argue her out of it. And if I couldn’t work, I couldn’t afford to stay here for the break. My options were limited—starve or spend Christmas with my family. Honestly, it was hard to decide.

  She probably sees all of these thoughts cross my face, so she pulls me into a side embrace and hugs me tight. “It’ll be OK, Lorraina,” she assures me. “You love your mamma, and she will be happy to see you. You didn’t spend near enough time at home this last year.”

  Resignedly, I kiss the top of her head and nod mine. It was done. No use in dwelling on the fact. “I hope you have a wonderful time with your family, Ms. Elise. I’m excited that you to get to see Jack and Jasper.” I was surprised to hear the ring of truth to my words because this was absolutely the worst possible moment for me to be forced into a visit home. Of late, I’d been plagued with doubts about my choices. I didn’t need to get dragged into a bunch of drama and nonsense.

  Even though I am miserable about it though, there is no reason to take that out on her. I give her a real hug and a real smile. Elise is the doting, caring version of the mother figure that I’ve never had. My mom has always been too preoccupied with surviving to show any real interest in me. I can’t blame her. She went from one shit head to another, effectively ensuring herself a life of misery and worry. Elise had had the same bad luck with a shit head of another making; however, Elise had gotten out, pursued her dreams, and stayed single.

  Unbeknownst to her, I’d been following in her footsteps over the last few years. I am doing everything possible to steer clear of that kind of relationship, that kind of life. Most importantly, I have avoided my hometown like the plague. It seems those kinds of relationships are like tornados there. If you stay, no matter what barricades you erect, you are destined to get caught up in one and will be chewed up, spit out, and forced to live with the consequences

  ……………………………………………………………..

  I finish up my shift with little fanfare. I really can’t blame her for closing through the break because we have been dead these past few days. I exit into the dark, deserted street; and I realize we aren’t the only ones closing for the holidays. It seems like everyone has pretty much left Oxford. Apparently, there aren’t too many students dreading visits home. Most kids are probably thrilled about getting their clothes washed, meals cooked, and basically being waited on hand and foot for a couple of weeks.

  I, however, have a whole other set of worries. Maybe…I think…maybe it will be different this year. I mentally feel a little jolt courtesy of my Psyche 101 class as Einstein’s maxim pops unwilling into my head…“the very definition of insanity is doing exactly the same thing and expecting a different outcome…” Well, one can still hope, Einstein.

  I take a deep breath and steel myself against all my negative thoughts and the biting wind. I step into the street and turn around to make sure I’ve turned off the sign. Of course, the sign glows back brightly at me. I’m not surprised, being so preoccupied. Then it hits me. Wow, Your Next Best Friend Bookstore. I’ve worked here almost my entire college career; and I’ve loved everything about it: the cheerful customers, the search for the elusive book, the challenge of matching a reluctant reader with just the right book and turning them into a lifelong reader.

  Sometimes, I think I might be just as happy here as in law school. But I like everything that a law degree will give me—a shield, authority, protection. An image of my future self floats before my eyes. Future Lorraina is strong, successful, and impervious. I can’t wait to be her.

  I shake myself from my reverie, close my eyes, take a deep breath, and go back into the store to kill the lights. Daydreaming about my life, or lack thereof at present, isn’t going to help me get this over with any sooner.

  Chapter Two

  There’s No Place Like Home, Thank Goodness!

  It just smells like home. Before I can even open my eyes, I know exactly what the day will hold from the smells wafting through the house—timber, red beans and rice, laundry detergent, bleach. My brothers will be splitting wood all day, my stepdad will be directing and drinking two beers for every tree felled, and my mom will be cooking and cleaning.

  I begrudgingly open my eyes to survey my small, but tidy, room. Quite literally everything is brown. Brown paneled walls, brown furniture, brown clothes hamper, brown shelves, and brown bedding. At least that has the decency to have little white and yellow flowers.

  I throw my covers off and think about getting up and seeing my family. I roll my eyes. I love them, but I’m really not in the mood to face the reality of them. It’s sad but true.

  I reach for my phone to call my friend Ginny and see about meeting up for a little Christmas shopping.

  I close my eyes, willing her to be there and to say yes to my desperate shopping trip.

  “Hello?” I hear her mom answer.

  “Hi, Ms. Cuevas. This is Lorraina. May I speak to Ginny, please?”

  “Sure, hun. You home from school?”

  “Yes ma’am. I was hoping Ginny an
d I could go do a little Christmas shopping today.”

  “Oh great! I’ll get her, hun. Take care.”

  “You too!”

  “Hello?” Ginny asks in a sleepy voice a couple of beats later.

  “Hey. It’s Lorraina.” I try for nonchalant. “I’m home. What are you up to?”

  “The usual. Just working, taking classes, raising Aubrey,” she answers, sounding exhausted. “How’s school?” She punctuates the question with a yawn.

  “Good. I can’t believe I’m about to graduate. I guess it doesn’t seem real because I’m going straight to law school—”

  “Ya know,” she perks up, “that’s exactly what I need. A friend who’s also an attorney…that will come in very handy.”

  “You’re damn right it will you evil girl.” Ginny had always lived life on the edge. She never did anything unforgivable—just slightly morally questionable. “How are you? How’s Aubrey?”

  “I’m good. Just tired. Aubrey’s great. She is midway through kindergarten if you can believe that. She’s a lot more levelheaded than I am. Believe it or not, she stays out of trouble.”

  “Well, it’s only kindergarten. Give her time!”

  “Bitch!” she laughs. “She’s better than me,” she replies thoughtfully. “You would think she was your kid as together as she is!”

  My smile dies on my lips. “I can’t wait to see her.” I had bought her one of those cute little t-shirts that alerted everyone to the fact that her aunt went to Ole Miss. Southern tradition dictates that if we’re far apart in age but close relationship-wise, I become your aunt. It’s the respectful thing to do. “So, what are you up to today?”

  She sees straight through me, “Hmm…just got home and trying to get out the house already, huh?” I laugh. I don’t know why I ever thought I would fool her. “Have you even had a cup of coffee?! Have you even said good morning to your mother?! You better go ahead and tell her that you’re stuck with me, of course. Aubrey and I will come by and get you in an hour, OK?”

  Ginny’s idea of an hour and the reality of an hour existed in completing different realms. “Uh, Ginny,” I stutter nervously, “when you say an hour, I really need you to use actual human time and rescue me in one hour. Got it?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Got it.”

  “Thanks. See ya then.” I hang up with a much more cheerful perspective on the day. ……………………………………………………………………

  It was early afternoon and we had already finished up the last bit of our shopping. It doesn’t take long when you’ve only got about fifty bucks to spend on a handful of people. I felt guilty for skipping out on my mom so quickly that morning, so I put extra care and dollars into her gift. It was an iridescent angel bookmark. The only thing she reads is her Bible, but I guess that counts as something. I bought Ginny a whimsical coffee cup that had no rhyme or reason to it, which is probably why she will love it. I put a great deal of thought into my guy gifts for my stepdad and brothers, but they were still my least favorite gifts. That was probably due to the fact that I had no idea what to get them but wanted in some small way to say, Hey! I cared enough to do my very best!

  I was carrying Aubrey, who had fallen asleep on my shoulder, when we made our last stop. We always saved this shop for last because it had been our favorite place since high school, and we could quite easily spend the rest of the afternoon here.

  As I open the door, a familiar jingle rings in my ear; however, the sight that greets me is anything but familiar. I stretch my neck back to double check that I am in the right place. Yep, Mona’s Book Bag, but underneath that “& Café” now graces the entrance. “Huh,” I murmur to myself. To Ginny, I hiss a little louder, “What the hell happened here?”

  It had been painted all sorts of earthy, yet vibrant, colors. On the walls, what looks like local art is scattered throughout the store. Leather couches are askew in and around a few bookshelves that hold mostly magazines, newspapers, and greeting cards. The shop had been expanded on both sides to encompass the other stores that used to surround it. There are people sitting everywhere drinking coffee, reading, and conversing.

  “Umm…You could’ve warned me?!” I snap. Finally drawing my eyes away from the scene and cutting them at her.

  “Yeah! I know,” she giggles, truly enjoying my torture. “I wanted you to be just as shocked as the rest of us were. Mona decided to upgrade us to one of those new-fangled coffee shops from Seattle. However, she also decided to outdo them in the process. It is truly a sight to behold, isn’t it?”

  She was right. It was incredible. I make my way to one of the tables while she orders us a couple of cups of coffee. I can’t believe my eyes. It’s a store to rival all other stores—a bookstore, a coffee shop, an art house, a library, a Hallmark store, and apparently, a popular local hangout. I was impressed. I was intrigued. I was robbed of my little used bookstore.

  Ginny finally makes her way back over to me and Aubrey. I gingerly take a sip of my coffee, “Mmm…Wow! This sure is different from our little pot of Community Mona always had at the ready.” It’s delicious, but I long for simpler times.

  We chat for a while, enjoying our coffee and grown up time while Aubrey is passed out. She tells me of her latest drama with Aubrey’s dad and her new boyfriend. I tell her I don’t understand why she and Jimbo don’t just get back together. It is obvious to everyone that they are destined to be together. She insists that, while that may be obvious to everyone else, it is obvious to her that Jimbo is, was, and always will be a piece of shit. I absolutely adore the fact that Ginny never minces words. She says what she means and means what she says; therefore, I now consider the case forever closed. She doesn’t do fickle.

  “So are you seeing anyone?” she asks.

  “No, I wish I had time to date. Things are just crazy,” I reply, giving her the standard acceptable answer.

  “When’s the last time you had a boyfriend or even a date for that matter?” She asks pointedly.

  “Um…It’s been…a while,” I hedge. Thankfully, Ginny turns our conversation to less awkward topics, and I get caught up on the latest gossip surrounding people I haven’t thought about in a long time.

  We agree to take turns checking out the book selection since Aubrey is still asleep, so I make my way back to my rows and rows of used books. This is what I had come for. I plan to spend most of break catching up on my “fluff” reading. As an English major, I never have time to read anything I want to read, which, of course, is the ultimate in irony. There is always a reading assignment lurking. I am a voracious reader, but I am really tired of being told what to read and forcing myself to analyze all the little details when all I really want to do is just devour something for the sheer joy that reading for escapism provides.

  Surprisingly, I find myself toting around some books that I had already read a time or two mixed in with a couple of others that look they had been read quite a bit, which is a good indication that I won’t be disappointed. Because my reading time is always so limited, I decide to reread a couple of my “sure things.” Getting some good stories in before tackling my final semester is crucial to my mental health. I spend way too long deciding, so I hurry back to Ginny.

  On my way back to our table, I spot it. On one of the greeting card shelves, sits a drawing I would know anytime, anyplace. No way! It’s like the card has a tractor beam fixated on me because before I know it, I’m standing directly in front of it with my mouth hanging wide open. I snap it shut and glance around to see if anyone noticed my weirdness. I don’t see anyone staring at me, so I continue my mission. I lay my books haphazardly on top of the shelf in my eagerness to confirm who has designed the cards. As I reach down to examine one more closely, all my finds tumble to the floor. I hear Ginny tsk from across the room. I roll my eyes at her and bend to pick them all up. By the time I have them gathered and stacked properly, she is standing next to me explaining how she’s going to book shop another time because she really needs to ge
t out of there and get some things done.

  I nod, barely aware of what she is saying. I pick up one of the cards and study it. It is beautiful, and I know this rose. I imagine it falling out of my locker during freshman year. I wince as I remember crumpling it up with frustration. If it isn’t his, I will be completely shocked. If it is his, I will still be completely shocked. The last I’d heard he had gone to jail for a DUI and had been written off by everyone as trash just like his daddy. I pray that is his, though, and that he’s sharing his talent. Finally, I turn it over and gasp. I am in awe. I am so impressed by this little card that I can’t speak for a moment. Tears have pooled in my eyes.

  I blink them away and look at Ginny to ask if she knows who had designed the card. She shakes her head. I whisper, “It’s Michael’s. How in the world?”

  “Michael? Oh, Bang?! Oh, right. I heard he was drawing and designing stuff. I didn’t know he was making cards too. That’s cool.”

  “It’s more than cool. It’s amazing,” I reply fervently. “Do you have any idea what this means? I mean, I know it may not seem like much; but it’s actually a huge deal. It means he’s taking steps to straighten out his life, or he has straightened it out.” I can hear the awe and wonder in my voice, but it can’t be helped. I am reeling from the implications of this. I had resigned myself to the fact that he would probably turn out like every other guy from my town and that had been that. Now look. Wow! Just wow. I feel tears spring to my eyes again. I know we aren’t close anymore, but I can’t help the immense amount of pride I feel for him. He deserves every bit of happiness he can wring out of life. He’s the most deserving person I’ve ever known.

  “I didn’t even realize ya’ll were friends.”

  “Yeah, we were,” I mumble distractedly. “That was before you and I met. I was in eighth and ninth grade. He used to be my best friend, but we lost touch.” I give her a very simplified version of our very complicated history.