Disclaimer: I do not own the Clique
Everybody loves roses. They're the perfect flower for any occasion; Valentine's Day, birthdays, Mother's Day, or just a random get well present or display of love or friendship. They're absolutely gorgeous, but the problem is that they never seem to last as long as you would like them to, no matter how much care they're given. In short, Kristen Gregory was my rose.
I first met this gorgeous blonde creature at some Barnes & Noble when I bumped into her as she was picking up the latest installment of the Twilight series. We were twenty at the time.
"Aren't you a little old to have a Cullen Crush?" I turned the charm on full power from the moment I saw her aquamarine eyes scanning the cover so adoringly.
"Aren't you a little old to be looking for girls in a bookstore?" she retorted with a smile and a bat of her eyelashes. It was all over from there. I immediately invited her to join me for lunch at this cute little outdoor bistro two blocks away. She agreed, but only after securing that the book was in its green bag, in her white tote, with the clasp closed. Women.
Over her Caesar salad and my cheeseburger, I learned a lot about this Twilight fanatic. Apparently she worked as a secretary at some top dollar law firm complete with tight pencil skirts and pumps. While I tried to shake this image from my mind in hopes of keeping things casual, she told me that she couldn't stay long; she was meeting a friend of hers for a movie. I asked if I could call her sometime, and she happily programmed her number into my cell as "The Cute Blonde". I was enthralled. However, before she could go, this theme character sashayed through the outdoor tables and asked if I'd like to purchase a single rose for my date. With a smile I agreed, and chivalrously handed the long-stemmed pink bud to Miss Lawyer. She grinned.
Well, totally disregarding the three day rule, I called Blondie a mere twenty-six hours after meeting her. Desperate? Nah. Determined? Hell yeah. I don't think she particularly minded my impulse either, she was all for a second date with Derry.
For our second meeting, we went to pizza and a movie, some romantic comedy that I couldn't quite stay awake for. As we were strolling along, perhaps going to decide on a third date, I suddenly heard a familiar 'Hello Moto' bouncy beat.
"Why the sky is talking!" I exclaimed with a goofy grin as she discreetly answered her phone while shooting me an apologetic look. She only stayed on the phone for a few minutes before she had to give me another puppy-dog look.
"I'm sorry, it's a work thing...I have to go." she gave me a quick hug before sprinting off in the other direction.
"I'll call you!" I did the stupid nineties thumb-pinky phone thing and raised my eyebrows. She nodded and continued off. This time I waited a few days to call only because Plovert had a hair gel emergency that took 48 hours to correct (don't ask...you've never met Plovert...) but this time she didn't pick up, I got her voicemail. So I left a suave, debonair message for her, asking for the pleasure of squiring her about town again. Later that day I got a text asking if the monocle was included in my schmaltz. I ginned and typed yes.
So for about a week and a half we just played Text Tag, no call. I figured it was quite obvious at this point that we both were looking for the pleasure of a blonde love affair so I decided to do something so ballsy and ridiculous that it was guaranteed.
"Binder & Binder Law, how may I help you?" I heard Blondie trill into my ear as I could tell she continued to root through some papers and type on the computer in front of her.
"Yes I desperately need a lawyer." I masked my voice like Christian Bale in Batman.
"What's your dilemma?" she asked in a predetermined tone.
"Yeah I have this girl who I'm really into who won't call me back. How much do you think I could get if I sued her for false advertisement?" this time I used my real voice.
"Well, we are expert lawyers here..." she played along "but I'm sure if you plead your case in the right way you could earn a dinner out as compensation."
"How soon until my compensation kicks in?" I asked in a pompous official voice. "Because as you can tell I am an extremely busy man."
"How about tonight at nine?"
"Fabulous."
That was the beginning of the best adventure of my life. Kristen Gregory was absolutely the most amazing person I had ever met. She was so successful and so driven, but not without cost. While I had some wonderful dates with her after my little stunt, at least seventy percent of the time we were interrupted or cut short because of some work-related crisis. Nevertheless, I was determined to spend as much time with her as possible, so we'd get creative. Instead of conventional dates, we'd meet at midnight and share a sundae at DerriScoops, my immensely popular ice cream parlor (5th largest grossing ice cream chain... take THAT Cold Stone!) or something equally odd. Since I did own the chain I had a lot of free time so I was able to bend to her needs which was perfect.
Despite the schedule snafus, I knew I was falling in love. I didn't care if I needed to have a relationship with her Blackberry sometimes, we'd make it work. I also had a sneaking suspicion that she was falling for the Harrington charm as well. For our one year anniversary we had a lovely dinner at some swanky Italian restaurant, and I had the maitre d' deliver my sentiment, 365 pink roses, one for everyday I'd known and loved her. She hugged me, I kissed her, and we sat back and smelled the roses, just her and me.
After that night I had taken to calling her Rosy occasionally as a pet name. She reminded me so much of the infamous flower of both our first encounter and those down the road. She was so regally beautiful and delicate, a keepsake for the ages. The true reality was that Kristen was also like our bud because she was withering.
Work only became increasingly stressful for her as she acquired longer hours and more responsibilities. I told her to slow down; every time I walked by her she seemed to lose another petal, another symbol of her vitality. She refused to stop; she was going to achieve her goals no matter how much labor it took. I could only support her with a loving and caring hand, watching as she drooped and grew dark with a terrible feeling in my stomach.
My heart stopped when I got the call. I jumped out of my skin as I sprinted to her immaculate white bed. As I tried my best to barge through, I was just stopped gently by a Haitian nurse with gleaming doe eyes. She just shook her head and told me it was over.
The whole story unfolded as the nurse sat beside me and replayed the scene. Kristen had been running to work with a cell phone pressed against her ear and a stack of portfolios in her arm. She was too impatient to wait for the green light, and one man was too impatient to make the yellow light. I was the first contact on her phone list so they called me. She told me she was sorry, but all I could do was watch as the clean white sheet stole the final glance I had of true beauty.
The life of a rose is never all it should be. No matter if it is displayed in a beautiful glass vase trying to be preserved, life eventually leaves it so painfully clearly. Whether it be a final breath taken or a final petal fallen, you can be assured that its brief life made the world more beautiful.