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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1683758-Every-Rose
by
Rated: E · Short Story · Contest Entry · #1683758
A family party takes an expected turn, for most of those in attendance.
The sharp click, click, click of the woman’s heel on the marble floor resounded throughout the dining hall as she impatiently tapped her foot. Circular dining tables draped with white tablecloths filled the room and rectangular buffet tables with similar cloth sat in the back. A full band sat in the corner of the room on a stage, as if it were a wedding reception.

Family, some friends, and many more acquaintances of her father filled the room and talked among themselves. Rose ignored them.

A long, blue dress flowed to just above her ankles. Silver earrings hung so they were just visible past her auburn hair. Neither her crossed arms nor her scowling face tried to conceal her anger. Another woman, an older one, walked up behind her, and put her hand on Rose’s shoulder. She wore a gold necklace, and matching earrings gold earrings. Even her dress appeared to be made of golden fabric.

"He'll show up, Hun, don't worry.” Her voice was smooth, like silk and perfectly placid.

"I'm not worried about whether he‘ll show up," Rose replied, turning to her mother. "He's late. Again!"

Her mother nodded, frowning. "Come now darling, have some faith. He probably just stopped at Hallmark or something on the way here to buy your father a gift."

Rose simply scoffed. "I'm sure he'll never think to use that excuse."

"Why not?"

She allowed herself a wry smile, "Because it actually might work." They laughed together for a moment, until Rose got back to tapping her foot. Her mother took her hand off her shoulder.

"I'm going to get some more champagne. There won't be any left if your uncle spots the open bar, anyway."

Rose smiled at that as her mother walked away. She always knew just what to say to cheer her up. But the comfort was fleeting. As soon as her mother left she resumed tapping her foot, and glaring at the door. The tall windows were frosted over, making seeing outside of them impossible. The only hint anyone could have as to whether or not someone was coming was if they saw the glare of headlights coming in from the windows near the parking lot.

She’d been waiting a while now. Nearly an hour, and several pairs of headlights later, her boyfriend of a year and a half had not walked in yet.

Another hand landed on Rose’s shoulder. This one bigger and had a stronger grip, but was no less gentle than her mother’s. Rose grinned "Happy birthday, Dad." she turned around and hugged her father.

"Forty eight years old." Her father said once his daughter let go. "My God, I'm almost over the hill, aren't I?" They shared a warm laugh. "Well then, I'm guessing he's not here yet?" Her smile disappeared.

"You've guessed right. I've called him twice already too, and he didn't even answer! Straight to that God-awful voicemail of his." The woman shook her head. "Honestly, sometimes I don't even know why I'm still with him."

The man stayed silent for a moment. "I can't tell you the answer to that. Personally, I never really saw what you saw in him anyway.” Rose frowned. “He seems to make you laugh though…and as much as I hate to admit it, you two absolutely glow when you‘re together."

Now it was her turn to be silent. She remembered how they'd first met, and as always, tried to suppress a laugh. "Well…I guess you're right. Still, I wish he'd be on time for once." She turned her view back to the door.

Her father smiled, and walked away.

The woman sat there, once again, tapping her foot, and thinking about her boyfriend. They'd been together for a long time now. But what was odd to her was…it didn't seem too long. It was more like it still hadn't been long enough. She thought back to the time that she had first introduced her parents to him. She smiled. That was a fun day.

Finally, she relented. Alright, fine. I guess he's not so bad. Phh, always late though, never here when he's supp-

There was a noise coming from behind the door she'd been staring at. It was hard to make out at first. It was getting slightly louder by the second, but still couldn‘t quite make it above the ambient sounds of the room. She walked slightly closer, but stopped when she realized the hall was getting quieter.

She looked behind her to see that others were now hearing it too, and were stopping what they were doing. The sound was slightly recognizable now, as a string instrument, going in a constant, rhythmic beat. Suddenly, the doors flew open, and her boyfriend walked in playing an acoustic guitar. He was smiling. And he began singing:

"We both lie silently still, in the dead of night...Although we both lie close together, we feel miles apart inside...Was it somethin' I said or somethin' I did, did my words not come out right? Though I tried not to hurt you, though I tried. But I guess that's why they say-"

It seemed impossible to think things could get stranger, but they did.

Every person in the dining hall, except Rose, joined him in the chorus.
"Evvvvery rose, has its thorn...Just like evvvery night has its dawn, just like evvvery cowboy sings a sad, sad song, Every rose, has its thorn!"

Their voices were nowhere near steady or coordinated, and more than a few people had to suppress their laughter. It wasn’t professional, but the sheer number of people singing created a grand orchestral effect that she could feel in her chest as they sang.

When he ended the last "thorns" there was more emphasis, and the band took over, including the lead singer taking the lyrics. The chorus dissipated as the people in the party ceased singing. The woman watched as the man walked up to her, put the guitar down on one of the tables without breaking stride, and hugged her tightly. When he let go, he said "Sorry I'm late."

The woman was trying hard to suppress her smile. "That's it? No excuses, no gift for my father, nothing like that?"

The man shook his head, a large grin on his face. "I couldn't think of any good ones."

She hit him playfully on the arm, no longer able to suppress her smile. The man's own grin vanished. "I did bring something for you though." He told her, as he held her hand in both of his.

"What?" she asked, honestly not knowing what it could be.

The man dropped to one knee and slipped his hands from her grip. He pulled something from his pocket. The woman was shocked. She looked over at her mother and father. Her mother was waving, and her father wore a knowing smile. She looked back down, to see the man holding out a black box with a ring. He smiled again. "I think you already know the question."

She was dumbstruck. Her face lit up, tears welled in her eyes "I...I..."

"Incredible," the man proclaimed. "The one time she has nothing to say about me."

Tears streamed down her face. "Yes! Yes you big, dumb...yes!"

She was laughing as he picked her up and kissed her.

The crowd was ecstatic. People clapped and cheered, even the band stopped to do so. And the night went on, people ate, and drank, danced and laughed, all in a dual celebration. It was true, her boyfriend was always late. But Rose had to admit, he always had a good reason to be, and he’d never disappointed her. Especially not this night.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1683758-Every-Rose