someone who has…died, doesn’t it?”
His silence says it all. The crisp smelling air suddenly turns sickly sweet.
There are countless roses, each bush standing in place for a once living, breathing soul. “There are so many of them.”
He tightens his hold, squeezing tight.
This commemorative garden is what June sees when she looks out her picture-perfect window—all the people she’s lost. The red rose, the centerpiece, I know was the first one planted. It was in honor of her daughter.
“That’s for June’s daughter?” I gesture with my quivering chin to the prevailing rose.
Roman nods, his head bowed. He looks so unbelievably sad. “June planted that rose with her bare hands and nothing else. She didn’t want her daughter to be alone, so that’s why this place exists.”
“And you tend to it?” He nods once again. “Did you know them?”
His pause is poignant. “Most of them, yes. It’s my way of remembering them and never forgetting the impact they had on the world.”
By this stage, tears are streaming down my cheeks. The thought is so tragically beautiful.
June loved each and every one, and to show that love, she welcomed them into her family. And for Roman to tend to each plant so lovingly reveals that he loved them too.
Being surrounded by such beauty and knowing what each represents has me expressing something aloud that plagues my heart every day. “P-promise me you’ll plant me a red rose.” I squeeze my pocket where Georgia’s bandana lays. “It was my best friend’s favorite color.”
Roman hisses a breath through his teeth, his hold on my hand becoming tighter.
“Promise me,” I whisper when he doesn’t reply.
His chest rises and falls, and his face…the broken look on his face hurts more than the thought of my own death.
“No,” he says with only raw emotion.
“No?” I query, not understanding why he would refuse this one final request.
“No, Lola, I won’t.” His conviction is clear.
Before I question why, he staggers forward, placing his large tremulous hand on my cheek. “I’ll plant you a sunflower instead.” He rubs his thumb over the apple of my cheek, wiping away my tears.
My eyes widen. “W-why would you do that?”
“Because…” He swallows, taking two steadying breaths. “You’re different. You stand out from the crowd, and you deserve that, in this lifetime and the next.”
A sob rattles in my chest. No one has ever said something so beautiful to me before. At this moment, I feel treasured, and whatever happens, I’ll never forget that feeling for as long as I…live.
Live.
And just like that…my decision has never been clearer. It was hidden beneath murky waters, but now, I can reach it.
I can see it.
I want it.
“Okay,” I whisper slowly.
Roman’s hand is still pressed to my cheek, so I can feel the tremor pass through his body.
“Okay?” he questions, his eyebrows knitted together.
“I’ll do it.”
His eyes search every inch of my face. “Do what?” He knows what, but he needs to be sure.
Licking my suddenly dry lips, I reply with sincerity, “Live.”
Tension crackles between us, setting me on fire. My decision seems to have unlocked a door for us both, and I feel like we’ve just unearthed something that will change our lives forever.
“You’re sure?”
“No, but someone made me realize something.” He cocks his head to the side, waiting for me to explain. “Better I die fighting than die without a fight.”
He closes his eyes for the briefest of seconds, before allowing me a front row seat into his soul. He looks relieved, but most of all, he looks hopeful.
“I won’t go to the hospital, though. I can’t do that again.”
He nods immediately. “You can do the trials here. I will take care of everything.”
“Everything?” I know what I’m asking, but I need to know.
That overwhelming static bounces between us, and I know something is changing. I can taste it in the heavens. He caresses my cheek with a tender touch and corrects hoarsely, “I will take care…of you.”
And I believe him.
I turn into his touch, closing my eyes, and bask in this stillness. There is no more white noise.
There is nothing left to say because I’ve made my choice, and I’m sticking to it. Whether I succeed or fail, it doesn’t matter. The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.
I’ve just taken mine.
“Are you helping Tamara this morning?”
My breakfast bears a resemblance to abstract art as I prod at it with my spoon. Humming under my breath, I scoop outward to construct a beard on my oatmeal Santa.
“Earth to Lola!” Snap. Snap.
Zoe’s clicking reminds