It's possible, Therese thought, that perhaps this—and this meaning everything, from the uncomfortable situation to her own indistinguishable feelings—was her fault. She'd been thinking about Richard earlier, and it's possible that those thoughts were just the tipping point. It would have been a perfect explanation indeed, were it not for the fact that there's just no way that her feelings, assuming she was correct about where they came from, were unrequited. Richard very much had the puppy-dog look to him, and he was just as loyal as one as well. You could even make a case for him being overly loyal, eager to please and all-too-willing to let Therese do with him as she wished.

Then again, Therese had been wrong about people before. She'd been wrong about the boy on the bus, who fawned at her and spoke of things Therese had never heard from anyone else, but never his name. She'd also been wrong about Angelo, the boy she'd dated once upon a time in high school. As it turned out, Therese was simply one of many, and she wondered if perhaps it were the same with Richard. Only this time, the price to pay, rather than what was basically social suicide, was her life. She'd done a case study on hanahaki once. The most common outcome in cases of hanahaki was death through suffocation. The prospect of choking to death on what was literally her own vomit was vaguely unsettling at worst. There were surgeries to remove to seeds, of course. It'd be tough to scrape through it, but Therese could pay and… What would she stand to lose? What did Richard truly mean to her? If she was 'in love' with him, then he must have meant something…

Idly, Therese tongued at a sour petal that had come up from her last coughing spurt. It would probably be a light, lime green petal, because green was just Richard's colour. She wondered that if she kept it in her mouth long enough, she'd be able to discern what kind of flower it came from. It might be a leaf from a lily, but it doesn't have the same silky, waxen feel. It might be a rose petal then, Therese wondered. She'd spit out the petals and try to cough up whatever else is in her throat when she called for a bathroom break.

Ah. She'd been lost in her thoughts long enough, because Rindy was starting to look just a bit impatient.

Therese leaned over, pushed the petal to the inside of her cheek. "Let's see… Now that you have the divisor, we'll try to divide the first digit of the dividend—this number here, see that two?—by that." They were working through long division by now, which was a little ahead of Rindy's curriculum. But, as Therese pointed out, they were doing so well already, and Therese liked Rindy enough, so it was better that she understand the material now rather than try to blindly stumble through it in the next few months. Rindy, however, was not wholly thrilled by this idea.

Rindy was Harge's daughter. Where she excelled in English, she did a little less good in her math, which was where Therese came in. She didn't have any special credentials, because she hadn't attended college yet (and really, she wasn't sure if she even had any plans to in the first place), but she worked cheap and that worked well enough for Harge. The more that she complied with Harge's needs the better, because There wouldn't lie if she were to say, theoretically, that he intimidated her. His tall, surly demeanor did no such wonder to his friendly image, of which was fairly nonexistent. Only for the next few weeks, Rindy wouldn't be working at Harge's house.

As though her thoughts could summon, the front door was pushed open, and Therese's attention snapped right to the source. In walked Carol with a few armfuls of groceries. "I can help you with that," Therese offered, but Carol simply shook her head and smiled. She had it, of course she did, why doesn't she continue working with Rindy for now?

"Oh, but I did bring snacks." Carol rummaged through the bags until she found a box, and opened it with a smile. Rindy wriggled in her seat impatiently, and Therese found herself grinning. Moments later, she set down a packet of Gushers, straight from the box, right in front of the girl. "There you are!"

Carol Aird was Harge's (ex, as she liked to emphasize) wife, a charming woman of somewhere around thirty, maybe. Therese had spoken to her once or twice in the past, to discuss Rindy's progress with Harge, and for him to explain what Therese's new schedule would look like. She had offered to take tutoring sessions elsewhere, because Carol was pretty and Therese would have hated to make her uncomfortable. Instead, Carol laughed it off with a careless wave of her hand. She wouldn't be able to drive Rindy to the library, and Therese didn't own a car, much less know how to drive herself. And really, she didn't mind! With all of the nice things Harge had said about her (later, she whispered into her ear that Harge hardly had anything nice to say about anyone, but he could recognize good work when he saw it), she deemed Therese as trustworthy.

Carol's house was filled with plants and paintings. Carol mentioned that she loved interior sign, and she worked to sell pieces in a furniture store. It really showed. What's more, Carol lived alone, so most of the guest rooms were turned into different things. "My favourite room is the game room," she spoke during the house tour. There weren't very many 'games' in there; just a few board games (Therese wondered if she could apply mathematics to Monopoly in a way that was beneficial for Rindy, because it's been years since she's played). A smallish television with a few game consoles Therese could recognize but not name. Probably for Rindy. A pool table was laid out as well, but Carol admitted that even if she had the time to play, she didn't have an opponent. Wondering if perhaps she was hinting at something, Therese threw out that she didn't know the rules of pool, and Carol smiled impishly. "I'll teach you sometime."

"How's my little snowflake?" Carol cooed adoringly, taking the seat next to Therese. She dragged a hand along her shoulder as she did, and added, "And how about Miss Belivet over here?"

"I think I get it," Rindy said, the hints of impatience starting to tinge her voice. "Can we take a break now?"

Therese cracked a grin. "I was going to call a bathroom break anyways." Rindy nodded eagerly, made a small 'hup!' noise as she inched off the wooden chair. She turned her head to Carol. "I think we had a good session. She's very studious, does her work on time. I like working with her." Even as she spoke, she could feel the petal uncomfortably pressed in her mouth. There was a rasp in her voice, like something else was about to come up.

Concern turned to immediate action. Therese whipped her head away and coughed into her balled up fist. Carol's face didn't shift immediately, not until Therese pulled her hand away. She stared down at the petals that had come up dry, with droplets of saliva peppering the tops. She stared and stared, a strange mix of horrified and intrigued. Red petals. Carnations. Carol seemed to know immediately what was up, and bit her lip. "Oh, Therese…" She got up and reached for a paper towel. Therese accepted it with a gracious and embarrassed thanks, and wiped up spit and flowers, leaves and her own regret.

"It's nothing, really," Therese said, though she heard it in her own voice and knew that she didn't sound convincing, not in the slightest. She tried again, "I'll get the surgery, no worries. It'll be like nothing ever happened." Quite literally, she added to herself.

Carol sucked in a concerned breath. "Well, don't work yourself too hard."

=x=

The exact cause of hanahaki is unknown. A popular theory behind it is that there are always seeds of the disease growing in the lungs and throat, but they only blossom and cause trouble when combined with certain neurochemicals. Or something like that. Of course, Therese knew that it was just a theory, and that it was a far off theory at that. Not even the scientists claimed to be certain that this theory held much basis in reality. Everyone knew hanahaki is an illogical disease; many claim it to be a result of magic, or God's will, or whatever they said in order to blame something.

Therese, for the most part, didn't exactly care where hanahaki came from. Now that she had the disease for herself, she supposed the logical course of action is getting the surgery to remove the carnations, and then confronting Richard. As all well-meaning girlfriends should do, yes? Or, perhaps, she should confront Richard first, and then get the surgery. She knew that the plants were, in essence, the feelings one held for the object of their desires. But for all of Therese's (five seconds of) research, she couldn't find anything that confirmed or denied the surgery also removing memories as well. It's because she was being silly. Of course there's no way the surgery removed memories.

Quickly, she swiped her fingers through her hair and sighed. Therese may as well just cross that bridge when she came to it. Until then, she had other things to worry about. Two or three days ago, Carol thought it appropriate to invite Therese out for coffee. "I'm having a little meetup with some of my friends. I thought I'd might like to see you there. Oh, don't worry, we're not going to talk about your abilities as a tutor." Eagerly, Therese had agreed to come. And Carol would be picking her up in thirty minutes.

Half-hours were some of the oddest measures of time. Thirty minutes was both horribly long and oddly short all at once. Therese was not a fan. This particular bit of time was (fortunately) the latter, and soon enough Carol texted her a little 'I'm here!' message, and Therese was forcing the flats on her feet and trying to scrabble for her shoulder bag all at once. Then she hesitated for a second, because did she really need to bring her camera along? She didn't have the time to think, because why would she want to disappoint Carol, and so she swiped the shoulder bag off the short table and hurried up the steps.

Mrs. Robichek was waiting at the top, looking at her and she tried to question her about where she was going in such a rush, because Therese never rushed for anything. Apologetically, Therese mumbled something about how she was running terribly late, although she wasn't. Ruby Robichek was her landlady, someone who she met during her brief time as a cashier at some grocery store. She was someone who had offered Therese a place to live for a considerably lower price than most of the apartments she'd been looking at. And Mrs. Robichek was a nice woman, a nice woman who adored Therese. In turn, Therese tried to be quiet and considerate.

The only thing was that Therese did not like talking to Mrs. Robichek.

Carol was waiting by the front of the house, and Therese offered a quick wave as she hustled up to the car.

"Good news and bad news," Carol said, though she was smiling. "Bad news is that the girls canceled on me an hour ago. Abby got caught speeding and she texted me about that. Then Christine said she couldn't go because she's sick or some incredulous thing like that. But between you and me? Christine only tolerates me because she gets to see more of Abby." And then she laughed, and Therese laughed along, even though she didn't know who Abby or Christine was. Carol continued, "Good news is that we can still have coffee together."

Then Therese felt the familiar rasp as she took in a breath. Damn. A shame too, she hadn't had any major symptoms show up for a while.

The little cafe was a small local business, one that Therese had seen a few times but never bothered to go in herself. The woman at the front recognized Carol immediately, smiling cheerily. "Hey, Carol!" She leaned over to start preparing Carol's drink. She asked about the other two, and Carol gave the same story.

"You can go up and order too," Carol said. Therese settled for the first thing she saw when her eyes flicked to the top of the menu, a simple hot chocolate. After a moment of hesitation, she asked for the croissant on display and reached for her wallet. "Don't worry about it," Carol interjected.

They sat down at a small table that rested next to the window. Therese stared into the town street, of the cars that whirred past and the people that walked by. And she looked to Carol as well, who seemed content to just sit there in relative silence and sip at her nameless drink. Therese supposed that she was just as content to do the same.

"What do you do in your spare time?" Carol asked suddenly, against the rim of her drink.

Therese hesitated. Obviously, Therese wasn't under any obligation to impress Carol, but she wanted to. What was so impressive about the fact that she snapped pictures of things and longed to be picked up by a paper? Or that sometimes she drew, sketched up concepts and worked with the high school that had a drama club? That she played a bit of piano, but she wasn't very good at it and she only had a portable keyboard with two of the keys in the upper register that wouldn't play sound? And that while she liked to do that, the thing she loved to do the most was walk around town and daydream? It was all trivial, unimportant. She hardly thought Carol would care anyways. "Not much," she settled for with a simple shrug of her shoulders.

Carol nodded haphazardly, eyes closed. "Really, now?" There was a pleasant yet smug lilt to her tone, and her smile reflected that. Therese wanted to focus on her face, on that smile, but her eyes drove her away, forced Therese to instead stare down at her fingers. It was cold out, a little too cold for Therese to walk around without gloves on. She caught a quick look at Carol's own hands wrapped around the paper cup and then to the gloves that sat next to them. Brown leather gloves. Another insignificant detail amplified solely by the fact that Therese was there in the moment.

"I'd been thinking about applying to papers to become a photojournalist," she admitted finally. It was the least interesting out of all of the things she'd done, aside from maybe the walking business, which was both uninteresting and cliche. "Though I suppose that means I have to start putting together a portfolio. If photojournalism doesn't work out for me, I'll take up a job somewhere else, do photography as a little side hobby. See if anyone is interested in buying my work."

Carol's smile only grew, like she was pleased that she'd finagled that little bit of information from Therese. Therese swallowed, felt something hard in the bottom of her throat. "And what do you take pictures of, Therese?"

She shrugged noncommittally, because to say the truth would be both embarrassing. Photojournalism meant taking pictures of people candidly, but it didn't feel right to do it. It might have been the parroting of children who yelled 'you can't take my picture, it's an infringement of my privacy!' back when she'd been part of the photography club in high school. Or it might have been a personal violation that she felt. Any number of needless reasons that seemed so stupid and insignificant, yet meant everything and more. "Whatever I think looks pretty."

"But why do you take pictures of these things? What do you find pretty?"

You, came the thought, unbidden. And with that thought, Therese began to cough.

"I'm sorry," Therese said between wheeze, reaching for the napkins. She coughed into them, felt the flowers and the petals. It was a weird feeling; the petals tickled at the back of her throat unpleasantly. She swallowed when it was over, and looked at the paper that was smeared with red and a clear film of saliva.

Carol sighed, head tilted. "Oh, child. You've seen a doctor by now, haven't you?"

No, she hadn't. She didn't know when she'd do it, or if she'd even get around to doing it at all. "I will," she assured her, and balled up the napkin, took two more, just in case.

"You've caught the hots for someone."

"I don't even know who it is," Therese laughed, although her voice was devoid of any amusement whatsoever. It only seemed to further the grim mood. "I think it might be for my…" Who is Richard to her? She supposed that after she got this mess sorted out (if it could even be sorted out in the first place), she'd break up with Richard. Would it feel fulfilling? Satisfying? As much as she tried to imagine it, the words and how her voice would sound saying them, she found that she was drawing blanks. "He doesn't love me. I doubt I'll be able to get him to love me in that time anyways." If Richard didn't love her now, would he ever? Therese was not exactly the kind of woman who stood out among others. She was like a wallflower, or someone who wasn't of this world. Always caught dreaming, as the people around her would say. Never on Earth, always in the heavens.

"Rotten little predicament, isn't it?" Carol sighed and touched a hand to Therese's forearm in a form of reassurement. "Call me up if there's anything I can do to help."

They spoke of other things, though she could feel that Therese's situation lingered in both of their minds. At the end of their rendezvous, Carol offered to exchange numbers with her. From there on out, it was unofficially decided that Therese would be the newest accompaniment to Carol's weekly outings.

Before Therese left the vehicle, Carol called out. "Wait. Are you free tomorrow?"

"I should be, why?"

Carol seemed to hesitate for a millisecond. It could have very easily been Therese's overeager imagination as well. "I hope you wouldn't mind it terribly if I came 'round sometime tomorrow. In the afternoon, maybe. I'd like to see your work."

Richard was supposed to be over tomorrow afternoon. That was when she planned to talk to him about her hanahaki, to see what he thought. But she could make an excuse to see him earlier, or even later if she wanted. She'd much rather spend the day with Carol than with Richard.

"I should have some time starting at twelve."

"I'll call you, then."

She wondered that if she fell out of love with Richard before the disease could take her, would she be cured? Carol smiled, and Therese waved goodbye.

=x=

Richard always called her at around three PM, because that's when he was typically finished with his classes. It was a good a time as any, she supposed, to invite him over. So she did, to his complete (or rather, her perceived) delight. He brought a box of dessert along, and Therese could only wonder even more. "My mom made too much zapekanka this morning, so I figured I'd bring some with me." Therese didn't want the cheesecake, but if nothing else, she could offer the rest of it to… Who? Carol probably didn't like sweets. Mrs. Robichek, maybe.

"Come down," Therese said, waving a finger at Richard as she trekked downstairs. He followed with a happy smile. He was always smiling with her, as though nothing could ever get him down. Therese supposed she liked that part of him, his optimism. But now it began to feel grating, like it was something that dragged on and on and she just wanted it to end.

She'd left her room a bit of a mess, and though she left it somewhat clean most days, she needed to prove a point here. The wastebin was full of balled up tissues that bled tiny bits of red here and there. That would be proof enough if Richard began to accuse her of something. But what could he accuse her of? "I want…" There was no easy way of saying this. There just wasn't. Yet, if Richard didn't love her, why would he care? How did one broach this kind of subject? Therese sat on her bed and invited Richard to do the same. "Why are you lying to me?"

"What?"

Therese turned to look at him, gaze neutral. "Have you ever loved me in the first place, Richard? How many times have you been in love before this? Before me?"

"Terry, what's this about?"

"Didn't you notice that I was coughing over the phone?" Therese was feeling angry now, the anger rushing out of a place she didn't know or care about. All that mattered was that she felt robbed of something, and she wanted to blame someone for it. The only person there was to blame was Richard, right? "And you've seen the trash. Haven't you?"

Richard's eyes began to widen with realization. "I—" Then they narrowed with understanding. "Goddammit, Therese. Goddammit! I do love you, and I thought that we were happy. You know, at least for a little fucking while. And then… Is it Phil? Fuck, Therese."

Why was he angry? "What? What the hell are you talking about, Richard? Just say it, alright? Just fucking say it!"

And then Richard coughed.