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I’m spiraling, and considering walking down the road to the nearest bar instead of going home to get the rest I so desperately need. Then, as if on cue, my phone rings. My heart skips a beat, once more thinking that it might be Julia, but then I see her brother’s name flashing on the screen. I hesitate for a moment, unsure of whether to answer, but eventually pick up.
“Hey, Alex,” I say, trying to keep myself steady. I have to think of him as just a man, not the brother of the woman I love and have lost because of my own decisions.
“Seb, man, how’s it going?” His voice’s casual and aloof, which is a relief. It means that he isn’t calling to talk about Julia.
I relax a little, grateful for the friendly tone. “It’s going…well, as good as things can be in my situation, I guess. How about you?”
“I’m good, thanks. Listen, I was wondering if you’re coming to the hunting game this weekend at DeVries estate. They have a ton of land. Jan’s hosting it, and we thought it would be great to have you there.”
A pang of longing and heartache hits me at the mention of the hunting game. The last time I went hunting it went from enjoyable to the worst moment of my life in an instant. I wonder if I can even separate the sport from the tragedy of that phone call, and it makes me hesitate. Plus, this is Alex Van Dieren inviting me, and the unavoidable connection of him being Julia’s brother doesn’t sit well with me. What if this is just some ploy on her end to get me alone, and Alex is just a willing pawn?
Before I can even reply, Alex speaks again. “And no, my sister isn’t going to show up, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
I feel a twinge of guilt at the mention of Julia, and how he must have known exactly what I was thinking. I hurt her deeply, and I know that I’m the one to blame for our breakup. But I also know that I can’t let my own feelings hold me back from spending time with my friends, and that while I barely know Alex, he hasn’t done anything to make me think that he would be so shady as to set me up for an ambush by his sister. I shouldn’t have jumped to that conclusion…and it’d be nice to get out with young guys and not the senior citizens that seem to make up most of my professional circles at work.
Feeling steadier, I take a deep breath and reply, “Sure, I'll be there.” Then, surprising myself, I laugh. “Man, you really read my mind about the Julia thing.”
“Yeah, well, the women in my family can be intimidating but I’m not anyone’s errand boy or tool to manipulate people, so you don’t need to worry about that with me. The hunt will be good for you, Sebastian. I’m looking forward to seeing you there.”
We finish the call, and I hang up, pocketing the phone and considering everything that was just said. I hope Alex is right, and that this hunt does provide some stress relief. It cannot be overstated how much I truly need it.
It’s funny to think that I’m becoming friends with Margaret’s son, considering how much I dislike her. But I do feel a fondness for at least two of her children, Alex and Julia.
Despite our past romantic relationship and subsequent breakup, I still care about Julia deeply. And now, as I consider getting to know her brother better, excited about the prospect of building a new friendship.
There’s also the chance that knowing Alex better gives me more chances to encounter Julia naturally, but I can’t focus on that too much. I shouldn’t want to run into her in any capacity, but the temptation swirls darkly in my thoughts. I would give so much just to see her, even if we didn’t speak. It would be so painful, but worth every second.
***
With the sun sinking in the sky and turning a burnt orange, I head home to find my father tending to the garden. It isn’t easy to locate him at first–-he isn’t in his suite resting, or in his office doing work that he really should be leaving up to me, which is where I can usually find him now that his health is declining and he can’t come into the office as often. I get the feeling that he is feeling lost without work to occupy all of his time, and without my mother or siblings to turn to, and me running the corporation, he spends a lot of his day with his home nurses, trying to heal. There are times, though, that I doubt that he even wants to. The hole left behind from losing my mom, sister, and brother is achingly hollow, barely scabbed over, and I simply cannot lose my Dad right now too. Surely the universe can’t be that cruel to me.
I’m just starting to get worried about not finding Dad when I spot the bright blue of his nurse’s scrubs sitting in a chair on the edge of the flower beds that my mother used to love. Just a few feet in front of the nurse is my father, looking so odd to me in his casual clothing and gardening gloves, a small pair of shears in his hands as he deadheads one of the rose bushes.
For anyone else, this scene might be reassuring. He’s outside, staying active, and engaged in a hobby. That has to be good for an older man who is still actively grieving and dealing with a health scare, right? But to me, it just looks like Dad is going through the motions, nothing more. I know he has never given a damn about this garden before, but without my mother here to tend to it, no one else will.
“Hey, Dad,” I say softly, and he lifts a hand in greeting as I move to join him, rolling up my sleeves as I do so.
He looks tired and frail, the simple act of bending at the waist to make a cutting leaving him winded. There is a pang of guilt in me for not spending more time with him.
“Your mom adored these roses,” he begins, his eyes scanning through the flowers. “She used to take good care of them. They were her pride and joy.”
I can tell that the memory of Mom still haunts him, and I can’t help but wonder if his new interest in the roses is a way to keep her memory alive.
“Every morning, she would come out here and take her morning coffee when they were blooming.”
I watch as he gently touches the velvety petals of a deep crimson rose, his eyes distant yet filled with bittersweet longing. The scent of the flowers fills the air, mingling with the heaviness of our shared grief.
“It feels like just yesterday. Her presence still lingers in this garden,” I reply softly, my voice barely audible above the breeze.
He nods, a wistful smile playing on his lips. “Yes, it does. Sometimes, I find solace in tending to these roses, or at least something like it. She’d probably get a laugh out of seeing me do it.”
I can see the weight of his loss in his eyes even as he tries to inject some humor. It’s in the way he delicately handles each rosebud, as if they were delicate pieces of her soul. It’s as if the roses themselves carry the essence of my mother’s spirit.
“I wonder,” I venture cautiously, “If you being out here is too much, too fast. You just got out of the hospital, you know.”
He pauses for a moment, his gaze fixed on the blooming flowers. The silence hangs heavy between us, filled with unspoken emotions and shared sorrow.
“You might be right,” he finally responds, but there is a note of stubbornness to him that is all too familiar. “But I’m fine, Sebastian. Try not to worry so much.”
