Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. WWE is owned by Vince McMahon and all that good shit.
Roses were my favorite flowers, a cliché, I know. But to me, they represent elegance, grace, love. Roses were timeless and classic. "Who doesn't want roses?" my mother would comment every Sunday when my dad would bring her a dozen of long stemmed red roses. They were always beautiful and my mother's face lit up every time, even though she was expecting them. As a little kid, watching my father had my mother the roses, it set the bar – to me that was what love was supposed to be. No, not giving someone flowers, it was showing someone that they were cared for, loved and appreciated, even if they already knew.
As a kid, I believed flowers to be a representation of love, and as of this moment…I just proved my young, naive self to be right. A flower starts out as a mere seed, coming up from the ground shaking the foundation, and then it grows, blossoming into something beautiful and magnificent, unique in it's own way, yet very distinct… as does love. But like flowers, they die over time which is something that I had also believed as a kid...I had never wanted to be more wrong at this moment.
At this moment I grabbed the vase from the table, it was filled with what used to be beautiful long stemmed roses. They were dead now, just hanging in the clear vase filled with graying water. Like my parents, flowers had been me and my husband's thing. He's go away for some time, as his job required, and then he'd come back and bring me roses. These roses were almost three months old, and when I had finally returned to our former home, I hadn't expected it to be the same, but everything was as I left it.
I set the vase on the counter in the kitchen. Grabbing the flowers I looked at them one last time, a frown now upon my face. They had just been sitting in there, abandoned, as they just slowly died. No one to care for them, or admire their everlasting beauty. I dropped the flowers from my hand and they landed in the trash bin by the counter. The gray water was dumped into the sink before I filled up the vase with fresh, clean water.
"I thought I heard something," I jumped and turned around. I bit my lip as I looked at my husband standing there with his hand on his hip, which made him look more famine then usual. I didn't say anything for a few second, until he came closer to me and was now standing right in front of me.
I finally found my voice, "Just me," I told him as I slightly turned around to turn off the running water. I faced him again. "I just came to get the rest of my stuff." I reached into my pocket, searching through the dollars, change, and bubblegum wrappers, to get what I was looking for. My fingers traced against the cool metal. I pulled it out of my pocket, and it suddenly felt empty. The object weighing what felt like a ton for such a small object, made my hand fall at my side.
"What's that?" he asked, reaching out to grab my hand. His touch felt electrifying to me, and my stomach did flip flops. He brought my hand up to him and gently unclenched my fist. "You're serious about this, then?" he whispered to me.
All I could do was nod as he took the key out of my hand, letting it go and falling back down to my side. He and I had been going through problems for awhile now, and with him always going on the road, me questioning his faithfulness was to be expected, but being proved right wasn't. There were many temptations out there, and my insecurities gotten the best of me, I had put them before love and they had made me weak. But my weakness turned out to be my strength in this situation. "I can't be with someone who cheats on me."
He rolled his eyes. "Not this bullshit again, Rachel."
"You won't hear it again, not after today." I gave him a small sadistic smile before pushing passed him and leaving the kitchen, like a lost puppy, he followed. "I'm going to get the rest of these things." I walked to the stairs.
"Hey," he grabbed my arm just as I was about to go up the first stair.
"Yes?" I questioned, tilting my head to the side, still smiling. He was so unbelievable.
"How about I get it for you."
"Jeffrey, I can handle it. I can handle a lot of things, actually, like the truth."
He sighed and ran his fingers through his rainbow dyed hair. "Do you even have something to put your stuff in?"
"I have a few suitcases here, I left them here. Now excuse me," he removed his hand from his arm, a defeated look came over him, and I patted his head. "It's okay, I already know what to expect…does she?" I raised an eyebrow, but he just scoffed at me, not even bother to denying it. I nodded, "thought so."
In our, well, his room, a girl was lying in his bed, wrapped in only a sheet. I shook my head at her and continued on into the closest. It was about ten minutes later, when I had messily finished piling my shoes, and stuff from the closet into the suitcase.
I walked back to the room to see the girl now dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed putting on her heels. She looked up and as if hesitating before speaking, she finally asked, "Who are you?"
"Ask my husband…well, soon to be ex-husband. We're separated." I informed her, walking to the door as no more words were spoken. I hesitated in the door way before turning around and looking at her, she doing the same to me. "Do you love him?"
She thought for a moment before answering, "No."
"Good. People can change, but, I don't expect Jeff too…not now. Just, look before you fall, or else your relationship will end up like Jeff and mine. Dead flowers." I tightened the handle on my suitcase before making my way down the stairs to see Jeff leaning against the wall. His eyes fell on mine as I got to the last stair. This was our goodbye, and I had no idea what to say to him.
Jeff didn't look fazed at all by this, it was as if he was a stranger and we had never been in love. I didn't understand him that much and he needed someone who did. I didn't expect him to show any emotion for me, to cry over our failed marriage or anything like that while all I wanted to do was crawl into my bed and cry. This was much more then an end of a relationship for me, it was like someone slapped me in the face and told me I was just like my mother.
Jeff and I didn't say anything, we didn't need to. I walked out of the door before anything could be said. The door slammed shut behind me, and I was more then grateful.
A/n: I'm currently cleaning out my documents on my laptop and I found this. It's old, last edited in May 2011. I want to delete it from my computer but it feels weird to do so without posting it. I don't really like it, but whatever. It's based on Dead Flowers by Miranda Lambert. I really liked that song back in the day. I barely remember writing this but I hope you enjoy, anyway. I think I wrote it for my old friend Rachel. Shrugs. Unbeta'd.