Roadtrip Oneshots

Mindy, Gardener

Hey! So, just a quick warning, but there's death in this Oneshot. It's not explicit or anything, but I don't want you to read it if it's going to trigger you or anything, so... ❤️

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Mikey

As an avid gardener, all of my free time was spent at my allotment after work. An hour here or there, longer during the days of summer.

I'd started this faze in my late teens, one that caused me to be the centre of ridicule for the last of my school years. Only I didn't mind, because I never saw a face of those who I went to school with, ever again.

It had been a Tuesday morning, and the garden centre had just opened; I was up early as I wanted to spend the whole of my day off working on my garden, to get everything planted and on its way.

So I pushed the trolley around, throwing packets of seeds into it, filling it with a variety of plants (but only the hardy ones), and completely lost in my thoughts, I had bumped right into someone, knocking them to the floor.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" I had exclaimed, pushing passed my trolley to help the person to their feet.

"Ahaha, no worries. I need to pay more attention." He answered with an easy smile.

"So do I." I added with a laugh.

"Andy Fowler."

He held his hand out, and I shook it.

"Mikey Cobban."

"So, I'm assuming that you have a garden then?"

Andy nodded to the trolley I had abandoned, and I nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah, what about you?"

"Of course, that's why I'm here."

I laughed again.

We struck up a friendship after that. Before we left the centre we exchanged numbers, and our first few conversations were about how to look after plants, what kinds of stuff we were planning on planting.

And then they turned a bit more personal. We met up a lot during the weekends, and I had found out that his allotment was in the same place as mine. I only realised this because I saw him there.

So then we coordinated. Going to the allotment at the same time each evening. And as we grew older, the evenings ended with a trip to the pub, and a pint.

Andy was my only friend. And it stayed that way all the way until wrinkles began to form on our skin, hair beginning to whiten, to turn grey. Our movements became slower, more sluggish.

We went out less and less, having to deal with sickness more and more.

I seemed to get better, and Andy only grew worse.

We still texted everyday. We still called each other every day. Sometimes I spoke to his daughter, his wife, and sometimes I managed a trip over to his house, spending the day there.

Then all of a sudden Andy's wife passed away, no warning. She just fell asleep one night, and that was that.

Andy grew worse, if that was even possible. It was if he had lost the will to live, only he hadn't. His mind hadn't given up, but it seemed that his body had had enough.

With a weird sense of humour, I laughed; only because as Andy's body had started to shut down, I could feel mine kicking into gear too, ready for that last stop.

Andy continued to grow weaker, yet we still communicated over text. He had been honest to me, telling me things how they were, just like he always had done.

"My bones aren't as young as they used to be Mike... I think I'm going to be heading off soon myself."

And then he had. I frowned when he didn't reply to my text, but took it that he was sleeping. He had been doing that a lot recently, I knew.

But his daughter had come down specifically to see me, and explained it all.

"It was peaceful Mike. He went how he wanted to go." She had told me softly.

I didn't even cry, already feeling my own bones ageing as each second passed. My friend was gone. But at the same time I was content. He had left as he had wanted to; in his sleep. Just as his wife had done. As always, two peas in a pod they were.

"He went to sleep and he never woke up. He didn't suffer one bit." She patted my arm. I smiled at her.

"He always got what he wanted, the lucky devil."

She laughed, wiping away the stray tear that dashed down her cheeks.

I felt bad, because she had lost both of her parents within weeks, months, of each other. But she had accepted that fact, and now life had to go on.

His daughter left me alone then, and I made a decision.

I knew that Andy's favourite flower had been the rose; beauty, passion, pain. All in one. He had explained it all to me one day, a very, very long time ago; yet I remembered that day as if it was yesterday...

"Andy, bit of a weird one mate, but what's your favourite flower?" I asked as the two of us wondered around the garden centre.

"The rose."

"And why's that?"

"I mean, it's red. It symbolises love, lust, passion, beauty. And then it has the thorns too, doesn't it? And that symbolises pain, and it's a natural pain. Like, you pick a rose to give it to someone you love, and the thorns prick you. That's about as passionate as you can get, I say." He finished with a laugh.

"So what? You'd give the person you love a flower covered in your blood would you?" I joked.

"I can see you've never been in love Mike." He swatted my arm playfully.

I tuned back in to feel salty tears falling down my cheeks.

Gathering the last bit of strength I had, I got out of bed, put my gardening gear on, and drove slowly to the centre.

I don't remember how much money I spent, but I bought every red rose I could find, and brought them all back to my garden.

Without hesitation I worked on planting them, in every free spot I had. It took the best part of a day, but I did it. I did it for Andy. For friendship.

A red garden. A red rose garden. A see of purest red.

I could feel Andy watching me, probably laughing at me, with that giddy laugh of his that had grown hoarser and hoarser the older he had aged. He would probably tell me that I had wasted my time. That it was a waste of money, although I knew that he would appreciate the sentiment.

My last gift to Andy Fowler.

And now I'm lying in bed, warm, content, feeling my body tense and untense, feeling it grow lighter and lighter, as if wanting to go up.

I just hope that those roses will last a lifetime.

Nothing can break the bond of friendship. Not even death.

I let my eyes slip shut, and somehow I'm already at peace. Smiling. Why?

Andy is waiting for me on the other side, arm in arm with his wife.

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Again, it's a bit weird, but, it's me 🙃

Thanks to spiderman_0707 and molbol123 for voting!❤️

"Until the very end."

Love WolfGirl.❤️