by HANNAH CONATZER | 2^nd Place, student prose contest

Streets lined with vendors selling their goods, people under umbrellas trying to keep the spring shower off their Sunday best, and the occasional kid who wandered off trying to sneak a sweet treat from a vendor were all seen by Oliver Grey, who lingered in the shadows, but none of this mattered. Nothing mattered. Not anymore.

Oliver braced his shoulder against the red brick of the building in the alley and watched the people coming and going. It was dreary for an Easter afternoon with sprinkles of unwelcome rain, but that didn’t stop the vendors or the people searching for that last final touch to their Easter dinner.

A couple rounded the corner and paused, their faces scrunched in confusion. Oliver noticed them but returned his gaze to the crowded street.

“Good day, sir.”

A high feminine voice penetrated his defenses, sounding like hers. He jerked his head toward the woman, but it wasn’t her but rather the couple he spied moments ago.

“We seem to be lost.” The man wrapped an arm around the woman’s waist as he spoke. “Can you tell us which way to Blossom Avenue?”

Oliver looked from the woman to the man and then back to the woman. Their eyes sparkled with love, making his insides twist with regret. This could have been him and her. He wanted to shrug and tell them to find their own way, but the way the woman’s voice resembled hers. He had to hear it again.

“I’m Oliver,” he said, offering a hand and ignoring the man’s question.

Confusion creased the man’s face as he shook Oliver’s hand. “I’m John, and this is—”

Oliver ignored John and stretched out his hand to the woman. “And you are?” A pretty blush tinged her cheeks as she accepted his hand.

“I’m Colette.”

The melodic sound of Colette’s voice made Oliver want to keep her talking. “Are you visiting, or do you live here?

“We came in from New York City to visit my mom for Easter.”

“Well, it’s not New York, but it has its own charms.” Oliver could see John was annoyed but kept it at bay with a forced smile.

“We are in a rush,” John said. “So do you know the way to Blossom Avenue?”

Pushing off from the wall, Oliver nodded as he pointed north. “It’s that way. You’ll have to walk five blocks before you hit it.” He gave a half smile as he added, “Buy her flowers. There’s a flower shop just as you reach the avenue; it might be closed because of the holiday, but you never know.”

“Thank you.” John’s voice was clipped as he propelled Colette forward, but she slipped from his grasp, turning back to Oliver.

“Thank you.” Colette’s voice was soft, almost inaudible, but Oliver heard it. “I hope you have a happy Easter, and may God bless you.” She smiled as she looped a hand through John’s expectant arm.

Then they were gone just as quickly as they appeared. Colette’s words rolled over and over in Oliver’s head as he returned his gaze to the street but blankly saw nothing. God had cursed him, not blessed him, cursed to always see glimpses of her in other people but never have her.

Pushing down the sorrowful feeling Oliver had when he thought of her. He headed for Blossom Avenue.

Everything seemed duller even though every shop was decorated in bright colors for Easter. The sprinkles Oliver had felt early were gone, but gray clouds still hung in the sky. Everyone he passed had a smile despite the dreary weather, which only soured his mood more. Thankfully, the walk to Blossom Avenue didn’t take him long. Relief washed over him when he saw the flicker of the open sign on the flower shop. He picked a deserted ally facing the shop he had recommended to the couple. He waited.

Some might think Oliver was stalking, but he had to know if John was a worthy guy for Colette. That was his reasoning as he crossed his arms while he watched the flower shop.

Oliver began to think they had ignored his suggestion, but then the chime of the bell on the shop door opening made him relax. Colette emerged with a small bouquet of red roses, followed by John. The pure delight on her face was worth the wait. They didn’t notice him as they walked down the street, too absorbed by each other’s company. He watched as they rounded a corner, never to be seen again.

A soft rain began, then a downpour, but Oliver didn’t move from the alley as he debated going into the flower shop. He had been to many over the years, but this one was different. It was small, family owned. Swirls of pink spelled out The Blossom, giving it an inviting look. It was the last one he had taken her to, and he had never been back. He couldn’t explain it, but something was drawing him to it.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Oliver sprinted to the shop, already soaked. The bell chimed as he entered, and a young girl, probably around sixteen, waved a greeting as she tied ribbons on bouquets behind the counter.

An older man with graying hair on his temples, who he remembered from last time as the owner, chuckled, “Looks like you got caught in the rain.”

Oliver grinned and shook his head, water droplets spraining off at the movement. There were several people already perusing what was left of the rose section. Twisting past a couple, he maneuvered to the section of smaller filler flowers for bouquets. He fingered the baby’s breath and closed his eyes, trying to remember her, but it pinched his heart.

Opening his eyes, he watched the people around him. Some frowned while others smiled. It was strange to think people gathered here for one purpose. Buying flowers. It didn’t matter if it was lovers, friends, or strangers; they were all buying flowers. He wondered what had propelled them to make their selections as one couple headed for the checkout. Joy, pleasure, friendship, purity, forgiveness, or death? What was the occasion? An anniversary, wedding, birthday, illness, or funeral?

Oliver slowly headed to the checkout counter, where the girl was finishing tying a baby blue ribbon around a bouquet.

“What can I do for you?” she said.

“I’m not sure,” Oliver said.

The girl raised an eyebrow but then flashed a smile. “It’s for a girl, isn’t it?”

Oliver marveled that she had guessed right and nodded, “Yeah.”

“We’ve been pretty busy today, so our selection is smaller than usual. Hmm.” The girl hummed as she tapped her fingers on the counter one, two, three before her eyes lit with an idea. “Are you looking for meaning behind your flowers?” Before Oliver could answer, the girl dodged into the back and came back with three different elegant bouquets. She set them on the counter as she spoke, “We have peonies, sunflowers, or tulips, which symbolize happiness, prosperity, and romance.” A dreamy look crossed her face as she expectantly looked at him.

Setting his jaw, Oliver looked the flowers over and shook his head. “I don’t think these will do,” he said.

Undisturbed, the girl darted to the back again, leaving Oliver staring at the cheery yellows, pinks, and whites of the flowers she left behind, which made him scoff.

The girl reappeared a moment later with yet three more bouquets. “Perhaps these will catch your fancy.” One by one, she set them down, pointing to each one as she did. “Daisy is loyal love, violet is faithfulness, and aster is love, affection, and wisdom.”

Again, Oliver looked them over, but none of them could convey how he felt. Nothing could he fear. “These won’t do, either.”

The shop owner stood beside the girl and asked, “What won’t do?” He cast a glance at the girl, who shrugged.

“It’s not what I’m looking for.” Oliver indicated to the bouquets on the counter. “I need something else. Something better.”

The owner looked Oliver over hard, and a deep understanding seemed to tense his face. “I’m afraid what you are looking for can’t be found in any of my flowers.”

Fisting his hands, Oliver felt the fear clawing its way back into his mind. “There must be something,” he said. “Anything.” Despair choked him as he tried to keep the tears from his eyes. He whispered, “She needs to know how much I’m sorry.”

“I might have something,” The owner said. He turned to the girl. “Put these back.” He disappeared while the girl solemnly gathered the bouquets and disappeared, leaving Oliver alone. The people who had previously been pursuing the flowers were also gone. A hundred memories of her swirled in his head, but the sound of the owner’s heavy stride shook him free of those haunting thoughts.

When Oliver looked up, his breath caught in his throat as the owner placed flowers of the most vivid purple he had ever seen in front of him. “These are purple hyacinths,” the owner said. He eyed Oliver before continuing. “They mean deep regret, sorrow, and asking for forgiveness.”

Oliver fingered the silky petals. They were perfect. “I’ll take them.”

The owner gave a soft smile as he handed the bouquet to him. “They’re on the house.”

“I can’t do that. Let me pay.”

“Living with regret is the worst thing. I’ve been there.” A saddened expression creased the owner’s face. “All you can do is try to make it right.”

“What if I can’t make it right?”

The owner leaned against the counter, his face earnest. “There’s only one way to find out.” He winked. “Now go get your girl.”

Carefully carrying the purple hyacinths, Oliver bid the owner and girl goodbye and stepped onto the street. The smell of rain hit him full force, but thankfully, the downpour was a mere drizzle now. He waved down a taxi and told the driver where to go.

“Are ya sure?” The driver looked at him through the rearview mirror. “It’s a ways.”

Settling on the seat, Oliver answered confidently while he kept the hyacinths in his hand. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Alright then.” The driver turned on his meter and turned the taxi onto the street.

As they got closer and closer to his destination, a nervous sweat beaded Oliver’s forehead. A jerk of the taxi made Oliver grip the hyacinths tighter.

“We’re here,” the driver said.

Oliver dug into his pocket and handed the driver the required amount plus a tip.

“Thanks for the tip,” the driver said as Oliver stepped from the car. “And I’m sorry for your loss.”

Oliver mumbled back, but he couldn’t tell you what he said as he stared at the sight in front of him. The Fairview Cemetery. It was gloomy with gray clouds that swirled in the sky, releasing a slight drizzle. The grass was green from all the April showers, but the headstones contrasted against its bright foreground. Many graves had various flowers or none at all the person beneath was no longer remembered.

The one Oliver picked his way to was the only white marble headstone. It was still as pristine as the day it was placed. He ran a hand over the engraving that spelled Emily Harper 2002-2022. She had been his fiancée. A woman who could make the greyest day the brightest just by simply existing. Tears fell as he kneeled in the mud, his voice shaking.

“It’s all my fault” he said. “I’m so sorry, my love. I failed you.” He placed the purple hyacinths on top of the grave. “Please forgive me.” It suddenly began to rain hard, but Oliver didn’t care. He was already soaked from earlier. “I don’t want to live with this hole in my chest, love. I want to be with you.”

Nothing seemed to matter as Oliver stared at Emily’s headstone. He wished he was beneath the ground instead of her, but life was cruel. She was only twenty years old. Her life had barely begun before God took her away from him. Anger stirred in his heart as he fisted his hands, but it dissipated as fast as it had come. It was his fault, not God’s. He should have protected her.

Oliver stayed hunched in the rain for what seemed like forever, but night finally came, leaving him more heartbroken than before. Glancing at the small chapel, he wondered, if he prayed, that maybe God would take away this sinking feeling of regret. The last time he had been in a church was Emily’s funeral, and he never wanted to set foot in another one. He believed God had abandoned him. However, he was willing to try anything to rid himself of this guilt.

As Oliver mounted the steps, his stride got heavier. He came to the door. He paused, breathing deeply, before he pushed the heavy wooden doors open. There were only about six rows of pews on either side, with an aisle through the middle. Rows of candles lit the darkened sanctuary. He noticed no one was inside, so he closed the door behind him. He sat on the first pew and stared at the serene glass window that depicted the last supper. Nothing stirred as he tried to think of what to say.

Folding his hands, Oliver bowed his head for the first time in two years and asked for forgiveness. That all the regret he felt for Emily would go away and that he would have some sign she had forgiven him. Raising his head, his eyes found the reverend of the chapel staring at him with compassion.

“I’m sorry,” the reverend said. “I didn’t mean to stare.” The reverend took a step closer. “I wasn’t expecting someone so late on Easter Sunday.”

“I wasn’t expecting to be here either.” Oliver indicated the direction of the cemetery with his head. “I just came to visit someone special.”

The reverend settled in the pew next to him. “They must have been very special.”

“She was,” Oliver said. Clearing his throat, he looked straight ahead. “She was my fiancée.”

“I’m sorry.” The reverend was quiet for a moment. “If you don’t mind my asking, what did you pray for?”

“I haven’t been in church since the funeral,” Oliver said.

“Do you blame God?”

Oliver shook his head, still avoiding the reverend’s gaze. “I blame myself. I prayed that God would forgive me and that He would give me a sign that Emily has forgiven me.”

“I’m sure Emily has forgiven.”

“But I need a sign,” Oliver sighed. His eyes strayed to the familiar shade of the purple hyacinths sitting in a glass vase; however, daffodils were also in the same vase. “What do those mean?” He said, pointing to the daffodils.

“What do they mean?” The reverend scrunched his eyebrows in confusion.

“Yes, you know, every flower has a meaning, like purple hyacinths, which mean regret and stuff like that.” Oliver tried to contain himself as he stared at the reverend, expectant for his answer.

The reverend came beside Oliver as he spoke. “They are often associated with new beginnings.” He paused, tears brimming in his eyes. “They mean honesty, truth, and forgiveness.”

Oliver nearly collapsed at the relief he felt as he stared at the vase. The daffodils surrounded the purple hyacinths like a hug, like Emily was reaching down from heaven to hug him with forgiveness.

“You have your sign,” the reverend said.

Oliver was so overcome with emotion, speaking about Emily for the first time in two years. He felt true peace. The regret had vanished. He knew he would always miss her, but he didn’t have to die every day with the guilt he had been carrying. It was a start to healing.

Ω

Hannah Conatzer is currently a student at TCC and is pursuing an AA in Liberal Arts. She enjoys many hobbies, including reading, writing, pottery, and traveling. Writing is one of her passions, and she hopes to one day become a published book author.

Eric Calloway says of his photography: “These are moments in my life where I got lost in thought, completely detached from the world around me, and lost in thought an imagination.”