Rose
One Red Rose
IF YOU WANT
to hear a fascinating, heartfelt, possibly awkward, sometimes funny, but inevitably emotional story, ask someone to tell you about their first love. The circumstances will differ from person to person as will the age at which it occurred. The definition of first love might vary wildly. The story may or may not involve sex. But invariably, you'll get your money's worth. Just get comfortable and be prepared to stay awhile.
I fell in love in the seventh grade with a new girl named Alice. I doubt she even suspected it for a good two years. I had been talked into "dating" someone who later became her girlfriend -- not out of any romantic interest -- rather because her girlfriend's mom wouldn't let her go to any school-sponsored extracurricular events without someone (apparently any "someone" would do) accompanying her.
I figured since her girlfriend always hung out with Alice and their other friend, Ava -- hanging out with her would involve hanging out with Alice! And that's exactly what happened for the next two years. That's when Alice's girlfriend's mom relaxed the requirement for someone to accompany her.
That's also the time when I, being the sensitive, diplomatic type that I am, asked Alice's girlfriend to do me the favor of asking Alice if it'd be OK with her if I started going out with her instead of her friend. As crazy as this sounds, she -- Alice's girlfriend -- asked her -- Alice -- who nonchalantly agreed!
In most respects it didn't change a thing -- it was still me hanging out with the same three close-knit girls at the same parochial school. What did
change was the after-school program. Alice lived about a half mile further from the school than me. It only made sense -- since we were now going steady -- that I carry her books (along with mine) the mile and a half to her house each night before trudging that extra half mile back to mine.
If you're hoping we're headed for some heavy petting and beyond, I'm hoping you brought a good book to read. Most of the time we just sat on the hard, all-wood piano bench, listening to each other play whatever we had managed to learn after the previous afternoon. For me, this was a much better incentive to learn new music than getting a little gold star affixed to a particular piece!
How I loved that girl! I taped her school picture on the back of my bedroom door. Each night before tucking myself in, I'd walk over to the door and affectionately kiss that picture -- so much so that little pieces of it cracked and fell to the floor!
Fast-forward to the annual high school banquet. Each year the juniors would pick a theme and doll up the gymnasium. The cafeteria would come up with something edible for the evening. It was the one-and-only event of the year where parochial parents and faculty members actively encouraged boy-girl interaction -- all under strict oversight, but still. "Who are you going with?" became the question of the day for weeks in advance.
Some couples were foregone conclusions. After I asked Alice -- and she said yes -- we fit comfortably into that category.
It was our first banquet experience. It involved corsages and boutonnieres. If you had a car, you spent the entire day detailing it. My brother had a car, and since he was going to the same shindig, he offered to drive me by to pick Alice up. We both were in our dry-cleaned, goin'-to-church getup.
I guess it's not unusual for girls to not be ready at the appointed time. Her mom and dad were there. They seemed to find it all amusing. While we waited, Alice's mom entertained me in their living room by showing me Alice's baby pictures -- including one topless shot of her at three years old sitting in the bathtub!
We all looked up just in time to see Alice, floating regally down the stairs in a full-length mint-green satin-finish dress -- complete with elbow-length gloves, her hair done to a T.
I was speechless! I had never seen anything more beautiful in my entire life! I just stood there with my mouth hanging open, mesmerized with each step she took.
Now she stood expectantly directly in front of me.
Was I supposed to be doing something?
Al, her dad, nodded toward the box with the corsage I had been holding with white knuckles.
I handed it to him. He opened it and handed the corsage back to me.
"Put it on!" he said as he nodded in the general direction of his daughter.
You're kidding me, I thought to myself. It was obvious I had no idea where even to begin.
In an attempt to be helpful, Alice touched a spot a little to the left and an inch or two above her heart -- at least that's where I thought her heart would be. Mine was pounding all over the place!
I fumbled with the giant hat pin.
Do I stick the pin in her dress? That's not where I'd like to get stuck!
Grab a hunk of dress and try to slide the pin sideways to avoid such stickings?
Through the stem?
In front of the stem?
Grab two hunks of dress?
That shiny silk is slippery as all get out! Or maybe it was the sweat that was forming on my hands that made things so slippery. Three false starts later in what seemed like an eternity is when her mom came to my rescue. Stifling a smile -- or more likely a full-on belly laugh -- she let me off the hook, taking the corsage and casually pinning it on her daughter.
The rest of that evening was a dream.
We dated on and off for the next four years. During the ons -- in an effort to be even closer to her -- I became a hospital orderly. She was already a nurse's aide.
That didn't work out so good. She was transferred to another floor just before I started working there.
During the offs, I figured if I worked on two different rescue squads with her dad, that would at least keep me in the family, so to speak.
I did.
It didn't.
I did get to know her dad pretty well, but it didn't do squat for me and Alice.
After high school, I went to a small university in Michigan. She went to a nursing school in Ohio.
During the year, she invited me to their
annual banquet -- where the school rented both a restaurant and movie theater for the night. A good time was had by all. This time, I even got to kiss her (instead of just her picture)! We weren't dating per se, but remained close friends.
Months later, she called. Said she wanted my advice on something.
She still had one year to go to get her degree, but also had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to travel Europe for six weeks. That would entail missing a year of school.
Everyone was telling her to stay in school. "You'll have the rest of your life to travel once you're out," they said.
I asked her one question: "How bad do you want this?"
On a scale of 1 to 10, it sounded to me like an 11.
I said, "Go. It's only a year. You can finish the nursing program when you get back. It'll still be there."
She went.
And I'm so glad she did.
* * *
Fast-forward two years.
I'm a junior in the same college in Michigan. She'll be graduating from the same nursing school in Ohio. We've stayed in touch.
She invites me to her graduation, but there's no way I can scrape together the money it would take to go.
Two days later, I hear my name on the PA system in the dorm. I've got a call.
Five-thirty in the morning?
It's my brother. My brother has never called me in the twenty years we've both shared space on this earth. We get along fine. We just move in different spheres.
He starts out with small talk. "How's it goin'? What's new?" I can tell this isn't a social call.
"What happened?" It's my way of cutting to the chase.
"There's been an accident -- a car accident -- earlier this morning."
Earlier than five-thirty? How early could it be?
"A drunk driver ran a stop sign and slammed into the driver side of the other car --"
"Who?" I cut him off.
"Maybe you'd better sit down."
That wasn't going to happen. The phone was mounted on the wall in the hall.
"Alice Loughman was driving over to her fiance's house.
"They were going to elope later today.
"If it's any consolation, she didn't feel a thing. Services are set for three days from now."
After getting the particulars, I hang up and go back to my room.
* * *
The next day, I make arrangements to borrow a car, drain the last $20 out of my bank account, and drive the ninety miles to where we both had grown up. Since my folks still lived in Battle Creek, my room and board are covered.
The following morning, I go to the same florist shop where, previously, I had gotten her corsage. After gas money, I have a $12 flower budget. That will buy one long-stem rose and a simple vase to put it in.
There will be no viewing per se, but the family is meeting people from one to three this afternoon.
Alice's mom had died years before in the same hospital Alice and I worked at. For some reason, the hospital thought it would be a good idea for Alice to take care of her dying mother.
Alice's dad is there at the funeral home in a room jam-packed with flowers! I can hardly see the casket there are so many. Apparently a lot of people are touched when a beautiful girl is taken in the prime of her youth. I've never seen so many flowers in one place! If this is the way people show how much they care for the person now deceased, my single rose is as close to a zero as one can get …
Al sees me come in.
He comes over and takes the vase.
We embrace.
Both of us are crying unashamedly.
He gives me a slight nod.
I take it to mean he understands the enormity of my loss. There's no need for words.
* * *
The next day is the funeral.
I feel so inadequate. If I had had $1,000, I would have filled a second room with flowers. As it is, my rose will be swallowed up in that floral forest.
Imagine my surprise as I enter that room -- all of the flowers have been moved back behind the casket -- all, that is, except for one long-stemmed red rose -- in a simple vase.
It stands alone.
Out front.
On its own pedestal.
Directly in front of Alice's casket. With a single spotlight focused on its bloom.
Al has managed to imbue that simple rose with the full force of my feelings for his daughter. As much as I feel a part of me is being buried with her, in my heart, I finally feel at peace.