Rose

Chapter Eight: Anxiety Disorder

The next day, Rose skipped into work, spinning his keys around his finger. His hair was tucked behind his ears, a pair of sunglasses pulling it back. He whistled Alec's song as he took two pickle tubs from Ruth, full of the flowers to be taken to a wedding sight that day. Rose smiled in greeting, using his lips to pull an earbud from his left ear. Ruth cocked her eyebrow, a suspicious smile formed with her wizened lips.

"Now, what's with that ol' spring in your boot? You hidin' somethin'?"

Rose bit his lip. "I went on a date last night," he informed her, placing the tubs in the cooler. Ruth looked at him, impressed. 

"Well, well, well, look at you, gettin' out there, goin' out on the town. What was her name?"

"Well, I went out of town with a guy, actually." Ruth's look of surprise and shock quickly faded. "His name is...Alex. We got dinner and saw the new Johnny Depp movie."

"Oh? So, you're...?"

Rose just shrugged, tying his apron around his waist. "Not really. I mean, I guess. But I don't really think I'm attracted to a certain gender. I like people, you know? I like good people. I don't really care about anything else."

Ruth nodded. "That's good. That's a good thing. Now, why don't we get started on that wedding reception down at the Roberts's farmhouse, huh? We gotta deliver them by one, so chop chop!"

Rose nodded, galloping into the back to begin his work. "They have the tulip-and-rose centerpieces, right?"

Ruth nodded. "Don't forget about the piece of lavender in each one of them!"

Rose gave a thumbs up, dragging tubs of flowers into his work station, while Ruth began hauling flowers to her van to begin working on the altar at the sight. When she was done, Ruth would come back for Rose and the centerpieces, and together, they'd begin setting the tables and lining the aisle with white roses and purple tulips, similar to the centerpieces. They'd finish the altar once and for all, doing the things that would be difficult to do by themselves. It was a routine that they were both used to, even if Rose had only been through it a few times, nothing compared to Ruth's hundreds. But he still liked it. It was nice. It was simple. It was exactly what he had spent the majority of his adult life looking for. The only pain he felt was the occasional prick of a thorn, a misguided knife when he was cutting stems. Never again did he need to feel his limbs torn in four different directions, the ringing in his ears the only music he had ever been exposed to.

Rose shuddered, biting his lip to block the memories. He put his earbuds in, as well, hoping to drown them out with random melodies. He unloaded a box of small vases onto the table, tying together white roses (dethorned), purple tulips, and a piece of lavender to place inside. After a while, his body formed a steady rhythm, allowing his mind to wander. Usually, he hated this, as his mind always chose to go to the worst places. But not that time. Instead, he thought of Alec, smiling to himself.

I wonder what he's doing right now, Rose thought. I bet he's at work, building something. I bet he looks cute when he's working. He seems like the type that would. Rose happily bit his lip, using his finger to knot the silver ribbon. I wonder if he's thinking about me...

Roughly two towns east of Rose, Alec was dangling by a piece of rope. A harness was fastened around his chest and legs, keeping him safe, as he clung to the sixth floor of the courthouse. He was squinting in the summer sun, screws pinched carefully between his lips.

Despite the dangers fixated with dangling several hundred feet from the ground -or several dozen, but Alec refused to believe that at the time- Alec let his mind slip to unknown places. He normally chose to think about sports, or beer, or taxes, or his truck, but this time, it was Rose.