Only Dying Roses
by Linda Seaton
from Lex
Cutting stems, the smell of the roses, the splash of water and the vase connecting with my chin. I had been in the middle of my favorite dream where I was flying when the earth suddenly came up to meet me.
"What did I tell you, Lex?"
He looms over me with the pointing finger and a rage that almost seems to cause him to tremble. This is my father at his worst. And that's saying something.
I wipe the water from my face and survey the flowers that are strewn across me and the bed. I struggle for the information and buy some time by dropping the vase to the floor. Then I remember. I try for matter-of-fact but I sound a little garbled.
"The roses weren't supposed to be cut."
He looks at me and asks, "Why do you defy me?"
It is his eternal question but I cannot understand why the roses have sent him spiraling so out of control. Before I came here he had warned me not to change anything or to cut the roses in the garden. I had assumed he was merely being controlling and I promptly forgot what he had told me not to do.
"How many of them were taken?"
"They're just roses. This is hardly Theseus making off with Helen."
"Spare me the overeducated drivel, Lex! How many?"
I roll over onto my side and smile up at my father. "You prefer just, plain, drivel 'Dad'?"
He does not rise to the bait of my calling him 'Dad' or rephrasing his sentence.
He steps in and asks in scarcely more than a whisper, "How many?"
He's hissing at me and I can feel my left eye twitch. "A lot." I answer as I swing up to a sitting position. I don't like the idea of having my stomach exposed.
He settles a little as he tilts his head to one side. "Today, of all days, Lex."
Wracking my addled brain for some idea of what 'today' signifies, I step through the water and petals that cover the floor. The aroma of the broken roses is heady as I take a deep breath. I shift into my bathrobe and turn to face my father.
"All I know is that it's Sunday. I'll rely on you to tell me the rest."
He gives me the half-smile and then he rubs his chin. Not good.
"It's the day your mother died, Lex."
I know it isn't true but it throws me. I know to the hour when she died and the anniversary of her death was almost four months ago. He didn't show up on my doorstep on the real anniversary so why is he here now? I try to come up with something arch and witty.
I only manage to say, "What." I can't even come up with a "?" at the end of it.
"What I want you to do is get all the roses back. All of them."
I try to smirk in his general direction but I'm not really sure what expression I manage to pull. My brain and body have both betrayed me. I latch onto the last thing he said and try to continue the battle from this new position.
"How will you know that I've got them all?"
"You know how many roses there are Lex. And I think you know what 'all' means."
"So, you want me to waste an entire day retrieving cut flowers?"
"You've wasted weeks, even years, doing things that I've considered pointless. Humor me."
He used the phrase "humor me" and I know the argument is over. There is no ground to be gained when my father asks to be humored.
He turns and sweeps from the room with his large coat furling behind him like a cape.
Feeling vaguely like I'm trapped in a tale from the Arabian Nights or maybe something by Perrault, I dress and check my watch. It's almost 6:00. The Kents are surely awake by now. I try to put together the sentence.
How do I ask Clark to return all the flowers he had taken for Lana?
tbc....
by Linda Seaton
from Lex
Cutting stems, the smell of the roses, the splash of water and the vase connecting with my chin. I had been in the middle of my favorite dream where I was flying when the earth suddenly came up to meet me.
"What did I tell you, Lex?"
He looms over me with the pointing finger and a rage that almost seems to cause him to tremble. This is my father at his worst. And that's saying something.
I wipe the water from my face and survey the flowers that are strewn across me and the bed. I struggle for the information and buy some time by dropping the vase to the floor. Then I remember. I try for matter-of-fact but I sound a little garbled.
"The roses weren't supposed to be cut."
He looks at me and asks, "Why do you defy me?"
It is his eternal question but I cannot understand why the roses have sent him spiraling so out of control. Before I came here he had warned me not to change anything or to cut the roses in the garden. I had assumed he was merely being controlling and I promptly forgot what he had told me not to do.
"How many of them were taken?"
"They're just roses. This is hardly Theseus making off with Helen."
"Spare me the overeducated drivel, Lex! How many?"
I roll over onto my side and smile up at my father. "You prefer just, plain, drivel 'Dad'?"
He does not rise to the bait of my calling him 'Dad' or rephrasing his sentence.
He steps in and asks in scarcely more than a whisper, "How many?"
He's hissing at me and I can feel my left eye twitch. "A lot." I answer as I swing up to a sitting position. I don't like the idea of having my stomach exposed.
He settles a little as he tilts his head to one side. "Today, of all days, Lex."
Wracking my addled brain for some idea of what 'today' signifies, I step through the water and petals that cover the floor. The aroma of the broken roses is heady as I take a deep breath. I shift into my bathrobe and turn to face my father.
"All I know is that it's Sunday. I'll rely on you to tell me the rest."
He gives me the half-smile and then he rubs his chin. Not good.
"It's the day your mother died, Lex."
I know it isn't true but it throws me. I know to the hour when she died and the anniversary of her death was almost four months ago. He didn't show up on my doorstep on the real anniversary so why is he here now? I try to come up with something arch and witty.
I only manage to say, "What." I can't even come up with a "?" at the end of it.
"What I want you to do is get all the roses back. All of them."
I try to smirk in his general direction but I'm not really sure what expression I manage to pull. My brain and body have both betrayed me. I latch onto the last thing he said and try to continue the battle from this new position.
"How will you know that I've got them all?"
"You know how many roses there are Lex. And I think you know what 'all' means."
"So, you want me to waste an entire day retrieving cut flowers?"
"You've wasted weeks, even years, doing things that I've considered pointless. Humor me."
He used the phrase "humor me" and I know the argument is over. There is no ground to be gained when my father asks to be humored.
He turns and sweeps from the room with his large coat furling behind him like a cape.
Feeling vaguely like I'm trapped in a tale from the Arabian Nights or maybe something by Perrault, I dress and check my watch. It's almost 6:00. The Kents are surely awake by now. I try to put together the sentence.
How do I ask Clark to return all the flowers he had taken for Lana?
tbc....