When Roses Have Thorns

~ 1 ~

It starts the same way every fairytale does. Boy meets girl, and they stare into each other's eyes and slowly fall in lov-

"Ahem".

The blonde haired, blue eyed, damsel in distress taps her foot impatiently, tearing the man of the hour out of his reverie.

"Are you going to order anything? I have other customers to tend to."

Quite rude, but her looks let her get away with it. Her pretty blue eyes roll to the back of her head. This creep had some nerve; he had been staring her up and down for the past minute.

"Are you Rose? Like the Café's name?" The man finally asked dreamily.

"Are you drunk? Of course not, the owner's last name is Rose." She pauses, breathing in and out. Calming herself down- do not get angry at a customer, do not get angry at a customer.

"Now can I take your order, or are you going to let these poor customers wait any longer?" She indicates to a mother and daughter with frustrated appearances.

"Oh," the man says, disappointed. "I guess I'll have a BLT, hold the lettuce and tomato."

"So Bacon and Mayo?"

"Yes."

Then emerges the villain from behind the beaded door of the kitchen, straightening a rose printed tie. The café's namesake nods at the pretty damsel and walks behind the counter.

"I'm taking off," he states.

The middle aged woman behind the register grins.

"Get home safe now, Lee."

And so the villain who clearly makes the damsel work too hard (why else would she be so annoyed) walks out into the September air.

Lee Rose is a unique character to say the least. If his flamboyant clothing weren't enough, he also attended Yoga classes and baked in his spare time. He was considering getting into knitting as well, but didn't have the time. He was far from villainous, however, and had that customer's thoughts been vocalized, he would have received many glares from the patrons of the café.

But Lee wasn't concerned about losing a customer today. If his salmon dress shoes weren't enough, his high and mighty gait told the world that he was a man who had important things to attend to.

There were only a few businesses in the direction he was walking in (west on Clintwood Street) so most residents of Thomson Grove would conclude that he was headed to the hospital. They would, however, wonder why he didn't take a cab to his destination, after all, the hospital was a bit too far for a leisurely stroll, but Lee had his reasons.

—
Lee Rose wasn't the only intriguing person on the sidewalk of Clintwood Street that day. Not too far behind him was a man on the phone, looking quite frustrated.

"No, listen, I don't understand why you can't investigate these claims! It is your duty as a civil servant to- hello? Hello?!"

Needless to say, his call to the police ended with the automated voice mail telling him to "leave a message".

He groaned into the coffee he had just bought from Rose's café further up the street. His destination was the hospital as well.

His client would be disappointed, he knew. He was pursuing a massive risk taking the case in the first place- especially with barely any evidence and the entire town on his tail.

So he headed into the hospital by foot (he often got carsick) and went straight to room 94. His lonely client was asleep,
which he expected. However, he did not expect the pile of flowers from the hospital's gift shop, nor the eccentric boy who sometimes served him coffee at Rose's café.

"Good morning," Lee softly smiled. The man in front of him was handsome, with a sharp jaw, gentle looking skin and soft eyes. He dressed well too; navy trench coat, a white button down and pointed black dress shoes.

Lee got up from his seat next to the bed, ready to leave. The man didn't look related to Ms. Fowling, the elderly lady in the bed, but he could be a family friend or an adopted son of someone. Lee didn't want to get involved in family affairs, so he headed for the door.

"You can stay," the man said. Then, "You should stay, especially if you're a family member. This might be hard for her to hear."

Lee's face burned red. How could he say that he barely knew this woman at all? That he just bought her flowers and sat with her because she reminded him of someone he lost? That he felt an ache in his heart because the nurse had said he had been the first visitor since she was admitted?

"I-I," he began.

"Come on, it'll be nice for her to see someone when she wakes up. You're the first person I've seen visiting her," the man stated.

"My name is Connor, by the way. Connor Brown. I'm Ms. Fowling's lawyer."

By now, Lee had no choice but to remain in the room. His face was hot. He had absolutely no clue what happened to the woman, besides the whiteboard by the bed that had "Paralysis" written across it in blue marker, followed by a list of medication names that were far too long to pronounce.

"I'm not sure I can help. I was just stopping—" he broke off as Connor waved him off.

"Don't worry, I won't ask you any questions. Poor thing just seems like she needs company."

"Right," Lee said. He sat back down in his chair by the table, feeling more uncomfortable than ever.

There was silence for the next few minutes, apart from nurses coming in and trying to wake Ms. Fowling up, but with no avail.

"It was nice of you to bring her flowers," Connor says, in an attempt to break the silence.

" Yeah. I hope she likes them."

"It's the thought that counts."

Suddenly something moved out of the corner of Connor's eye— a fluttering eyelash. About time.

"Ms. Fowling?"

The woman groggily opened her eyes, surveying her landscape,

and screamed at the top of her lungs.