The White Rosebush

Chapter 6: The Past and the Future

Chapter 6: The Past and the Future

As I walked out the front door of my home, I looked back at the large brown house and felt a bittersweet sense of regret mixed with excitement. At that point, I felt like I was losing everything in my life, but, at the same time, I was gaining everything. I was losing a family; that much I was sure of. They would hate me forever for leaving them, but I knew Andreas needed me more, even if he wouldn't swallow his pride and admit it. He had nobody.

And what did my family hold for me? A mother that's lately become a miserable old hag whom is torture to be around? A beast of a sister that goes out of her way to make me angry, and succeeds very well in doing so? No; I would never be happy here, as hard as it was to admit. I needed to be on my own, and they only way to do this would be to leave. Andreas would become my new family. He was all I needed. I nodded slightly, giving my home its final respect, and set out down the dark road to Andreas's house. As I saw him standing out in front of his own four-story house, I was slightly amused to see he wasn't carrying anything. His family was made of money, so he probably could buy anything he may need on our journey. From what he told me, his mother's family had become millionaires in her teens by smuggling illegal alcohol into America during the time it had been temporarily outlawed in the 1920s. I had laughed at the time; it had seemed very crazy to believe. But one look at the near-mansion sized home he lived in had immediately demolished any doubt I might have had.

I smiled as I recalled the memory. It was in the early days of our romance and I had been playfully whining because he'd never taken me to his house, whereas he'd been to mine numerous times. We had been walking by the Thames after dinner at my meager dwelling.

"So Andreas," I had said, picking up a smooth, flat rock from the riverbed and throwing it.

"Hm?" he had grunted in acknowledgement.

"When will I see your lovely home?"

"Lovely?" he had replied sarcastically. "More like sickly smothered." I had rolled my eyes in true annoyance; he always said then when I brought his home up in conversation.

"What do you mean?" I asked, humoring him.

"I prefer your lifestyle."

"What?" I had asked, even more bewildered than when the conversation began. "What do you mean?"

"It's modest compared to mine."

"Excuse me?" I had snapped, quite affronted that he would describe my home as modest. Had he been saying that I was poor? Realizing his mistake, he quickly added,

"I don't mean it like that. It's just..." his voice had trailed off.

"What?" I had asked, a bit less harshly.

"Don't think and differently of me just because I tell you this." I looked at him expectantly rather than answer. He grinned and sheepishly added, "I'm rich." I was fascinated and a bit surprised, but mostly curious.

"How'd you make your money?" I had asked inquisitively. He had laughed at this question.

"You'll never believe it."

"Try me."

"Bootlegging."

"Bootlegging?" I had asked; the word was foreign to me.

"Mum used to make quite a mint from smuggling illegal alcohol into other countries, especially America." Of course America would have something to do with anything illegally imported. I had sighed tragically.

"Bless those Americans, always wanting to break the law."

"They do get quite serious over their alcohol, I must agree," he had replied with a grin at my sarcastic sense of humor. "Laws in America are meant to be broken. Did you know that in Kansas-"

"Kansas?" I had interrupted.

"You are very ignorant towards American culture, aren't you?"

"Well, I wasn't the one plagued with the misfortune to have visited that horrible country, now was I?" He had laughed at me.

"You really need to lose that bias of America you have, Amy. It isn't as bad as you think. You're missing out a bit."

"I'll take my chances," I had replied brusquely. Andreas had lived in America for a couple of years before moving back to London. I personally was not a fan of that country. I thought the people were very arrogant and insensitive to any culture that was not their own, and that's not even mentioning their prejudice. I had no desire whatsoever to visit America or meet an American.

"You are such a pleasant person," he had commented teasingly. I rolled my eyes at him. Andreas had laughed and told me that crime can pay at times. Now, however, he didn't look very amused. His face was severe; clouded with apprehension and uncertainty. It was very unbecoming of his usual happy-go-lucky personality. It sent a pang of guilty to my heart.

"I'm still not sure about this," he said nervously.

"I am," I replied bluntly. "I'm not staying here." He wasn't backing out now.

"Did you even think this through?" he persisted.

"Not really," I admitted, "but we have to go."

"That's what I'm worried about, Amy," he replied gently. "Where will we go?"

"I don't even care."

"Don't give me any of that," he scolded. "If I'm following you on this wild goose chase, we are going to have some sort of plan as to where we are going."

"Where do you want to go?" I asked him before adding, "I don't even care. I just want to be with you."

"We need someplace to stay Amy," he said slowly, as if he were talking to an infant.

"As I said, I repeated, growing more irritated, "I don't care."

"Maybe you should!" he exploded, bellowing at me like an angry moose. I could feel my temper flare up like a firework.

"Don't yell at me," I said firmly, somehow managing to keep my voice even. He took a deep breath; his attempt at trying to avoid an argument. He could get quite temperamental under the right circumstances. It was another personality trait we had in common.

"Ok, look," he said, trying to reason. "Let's just find a place to sleep for the night." I nodded my head silently, wondering just what I had gotten us into. I could see the uncertainty on Andreas's face, but he seemed willing enough to accompany me. We set off down his driveway together, leaving our old life behind. That night, Andreas rented us out a room in a hotel in one of the cheaper parts of the city. We feel asleep together, not knowing what tomorrow would bring, but being determined to weather it, whatever it might be.