ºººWhite Rosesººº

or A White Bouquet

by : epiphanies

He's not the type of person to just bail out on me. He's not the type to say he'll be somewhere, then just -not- be.

That's why I knew something was wrong.

My friends say it's a twin ESP intuition thing. I don't believe in that stuff. I just know that he keeps his word.

Unless something is really, really wrong.

So when I got a phone call halfway through my set - girls dancing, guys whistling, my band glaring at me like I Had a choice - I knew that it was him, and I was afraid to hear his reason for not showing up.

Him and my mom got in an accident on the way to the show.

I dropped my mic and bolted out of there, muttering apologies to my friends and grabbing my father, who, like Benjamin and Mom, came to all of my performances.

We drove at warped speed to the hospital and sat in the waiting room for two hours. Finally, I saw my brother. My hug nearly broke his arm worse, but I don't think he minded.

"Where's Mom?" I asked immediately, and he shrugged. He was trembling. I could tell from the colour of his eyes he'd been crying.

Why?

They've brought her into emergency surgery," Benjamin breathed, pink patches appearing on his cheeks, "They won't tell me anything."

"How-"

"She looked..."

He caught me in another swift hug and Dad joined.

He choked, "She looked bad."

Mom and Dad had split up by when Benjamin and I were thirteen. By that point, we'd decided that we were tired of sharing a bedroom, and after all, they were only going to live a block apart for our sake. So, I got Dad, he got Mom, and it switched every now and then.

We still did stuff as a family, even though Mom and Dad weren't married. We got ice cream and went to movies and discussed report cards, had game nights and parties with both sides of the family. It was the perfect marriage, that wasn't.

I formed a band with three of my friends in the ninth grade called "Austere Grey" and we had a bit of a following, actually. My friend Joplin was the lead guitarist, Peta was the drummer and Marcia the bassist. I sang - and played the triangle, in some songs. Don't underestimate the triangle, it's important!

My parents (and Benny) NEVER missed a show. Ever, not since my very first. When Mom hadn't been there to cheer me on for my new triangle solo, in the second song, I got all flustered and nervous - I blew it. That was when I knew that the world must have stopped spinning.

They couldn't save her that night. They'd taken her to surgery to remove a large fragment of hubcap metal from her head - which had flown off of the speeding car that had hit them moments later.

My mother died that night, the night of my first solo. The night of my nerves. She died.

At the funeral, a few days later, Joplin came up to me and hugged me tightly. She handed me a bouquet of slightly yellowed white roses.

"I took care of them for you," she'd said. I was confused.

"Read the card," she instructed, smiling weakly, "Yours. From the...the other night. In the dressing room. They were delivered right before the set."

I couldn't speak for the rest of the day. I've spoken rarely of it since. The wound is still so fresh, and it burns to speak of it. Write of it. Of my mother's death.

I had known something was wrong. Why hadn't we offered her a ride? Why couldn't she have been sick?

I've written a few songs for her. "Shaded Rainbow" and "Sprinkles" and "Hubcap." and the latest, "White Roses."

Among the daisies and purple fuchsia,

Among the grass so green,

Lays a bouquet on the spot

that her grave's to be

A white bouquet

A white bouquet

Of crinkling soft yellowed roses

Left by her on her last day,

Who can say

"Come save the day"

When she who's gone,

Left the white bouquet?

She even dated the note.

Dear Janey,March 16th, 2004.

Don't forget the underwear trick! You'll be great, sweetheart. I'll wait for your eyes. These are rightfully yours, love from us all. Benny and I will be the first in the door, I promise! I love you, honey.

Love,

Mom xxx

ºººThe Endººº