It was a nice day. Lovely sunlight, the gentlest of breezes, and a flower at my door. No note, just a beautiful red rose. Assuming it was from my husband of seven years, I smiled. That man was always sending me nice things. Maybe tonight I would ask him why he left a rose on our doorstep instead of on the couch, or my pillow.
I walked into the house and called for Stanley, my husband. He didn't call back. It was weird, considering he left such a beautiful flower. But I shrugged it off. I mean, at the time, it wouldn't have registered that he has been at work since 6am that day and wouldn't be home till 5pm—as I was tired from the errands I had ran that day. I wasn't thinking clearly.
But that never registered.
When he got home that night, I thanked him for the rose.
"What rose?" was his reply.
"You know…" I said slowly. "The rose you left at the door today. It's very thoughtful of you."
He looked at me weird. "It would be very thoughtful, yes. If I would've done it. But I didn't. I have no idea what you're talking about."
I laughed nervously. "Okay, babe. Whatever you say."
That night in bed, I couldn't fall asleep until much later in the night. Who would've randomly left me a bright red rose at my door? I don't talk to any of the guys and certainly none of them would know where I live. And no one follows me home, as I live out in the country. Nothing but empty dirt roads. We don't even have kids, not for lack of trying, I assure you. So finally I just let it slide. Maybe it was a salesman who missed us and left a rose as a "sorry." Maybe it was my husband after all. Who cares, I thought. It's a nice flower.
The next day, Stan and I left for work. We decided that tonight, we would try for a child—again. We were both 25, but we still want to have a child before both our bodies can't…make one anymore. The whole day went by super slow. I checked in people to the hotel, checked people out, and went on break. Went through the motions, impatiently waiting for tonight. Finally, it was quitting time. It would still be an hour until Stan got home, but an hour was long enough to put dinner on and put more comfortable clothes on.
While getting ready, I realized I left my purse in the car, which had my hair brush and makeup in it. So I put on my house shoes and opened the door.
There—on the welcome mat—sat a bouquet of roses. Again there was no name, no note, no nothing. My mind immediately went to my husband. Maybe he left them there as a cute gesture, or a way to "get in the mood." But… he would've had to leave work and put them there and go back to work in less than an hour. Unlikely but I wasn't going to complain. After thinking about it a little bit, I threw the flowers away. I didn't want Stan to get distressed before we even have the chance to try for a kid. I wanted tonight to be perfect.
He got home a little after dinner was finished.
(To be Continued)