The Reinvention of the Rose - Christina C. Jones Page 0,55

thinking of her older sister, Alicia. “How much do you want for them?”

Carlos and Keem both shot her a look like she was crazy. “Not a dime,” Keem said. “The colonizer I got these from was very pleased to let me know these came from the family collection, pillaged after the home invasion that took your father’s life, and subjected you girls to whatever you went through after that. He thought it would raise the price.”

“But after I read his alabaster ass out from commencement to conclusion, he found himself some damn sense,” Carlos added.

“So what we’re saying is, we can’t accept your money – they aren’t even for sale, they’re on display. Until now, when we have the absolute honor of returning what’s rightfully yours and your sister’s.” Keem took Dacia by the hands, squeezing them together. “Please.”

I wasn’t sure Dacia could answer.

Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears, and I could feel the heaviness coming off her, to the point that I thought I should probably get her out of there.

As harmlessly as they’d obviously meant this little reunion with her past… it had to be, still… triggering.

“Thank you,” she finally spoke, nodding as those tears started dripping down her face. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t expecting something like this, like… at all,” she laughed, turning to me. “Who knew?”

“Definitely not me,” I laughed, stepping up to put an arm around her.

We worked out some logistics for getting the coats, stoles, and whatever else, back to her place in Vegas, then I took her back next door. She had a hotel room, but I kept her in my apartment to regroup from the unexpected emotion of the encounter with Carlos and Keem. Well… I left her upstairs, and went down to the workshop to give her some privacy while she called Alicia to share the news.

When she was done, she came looking for me, grinning when she saw me pouring candles. “I can’t get over this – you have gone from one of the most formidable roses I’ve ever met to… candlemaker. What is even happening here?”

“We all need an outlet, don’t judge me,” I laughed.

“No judgement here,” she said, taking a seat. “Writing has been mine, at the advice of my therapist, who doesn’t even know quite how bad it all is.”

“Like journaling or something?”

She shook her head. “Like a book. Books. I’m going to get it all out. You know… a year or so ago, I wrote some of it out, and put it on the internet? The rose tattoos and all. I took it down, because that was dumb.”

“Bitch. You’re serious?”

She chuckled. “Yeah, I really did that.”

“I know you did, because Tristan’s kid read it,” I yelled. “I didn’t know it was you who would do something so… so…”

“Fucking stupid? Yeah,” Dacia nodded. “It was when everything first happened, and I was so… lost. Angry at everybody. Confused. Scared. It felt like taking my power back, until I thought about how it might hurt other roses. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” I told her, brushing off the apology. “I played it off well enough, but she still believes it. I didn’t say anything to you or Alicia or Pen because I… honestly I figured it was one of us, trying to figure shit out. But it being you is … wild. You show up and all the coincidences start raining in.”

Dacia smiled. “Yeah well… I’ve got one more for you.”

“What’s that?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know if I can take anymore.”

“This one might be pretty simple… maybe?”

I put down my pouring vessel to prop my hands on my hips. “Girl spill it.”

“I want to get my rose covered.”

Any annoyance I’d been feeling dissipated. “Oh! Really?”

More than once, she and Alicia had both been vocal about not wanting theirs removed or covered, for whatever their personal reasons were. So it was surprising to hear this now.

“Yeah. I just… I feel like I’ve made so many strides, towards getting to a place of normalcy. Finally feeling human again. And then… I look in the mirror, and all the horror and ugliness comes screaming back. I don’t want that anymore.”

I nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. That same feeling had plagued me for a long, long time before I finally took that plunge, and I hadn’t looked back.

The rose never crossed my mind anymore, not unbidden.

“You’re right,” I told her, wiping my hands. “That one is simple. You need a tattoo, and you want