Something Different

Chapter 1

Chapter 1Several weeks ago I walked out to my car after work and found a single, red rose stuck under the windshield wiper. There was no card or any indication as to who had left the rose.

I thought to myself, how sweet, someone has left me a rose. I wondered who. It played on my mind for several days. Every male who spoke to me in a pleasant manner over the next few days was instantly added to my list of suspects.

On the fourth day, there was another red rose on my windshield and again on the third day after that. The next one showed up two days later. Since that day, there has been a red rose on my car every day after work. I have even parked my car in several different places trying to hide it from whoever my secret admirer might be. But he always seems to find it.

At first I thought it might be my ex-husband. He’s a goofy son-of-a-b***h and would do something like that just to torment me. But I happen to know he was out of state when the fourth rose showed up. Plus, he would have owned up to it when I confronted him about it. He didn’t. He’ll do a lot of lousy things, but lying ain’t one of them. He always was a piss-poor liar, especially to me.

I even had people watching my car, trying to find out who it was, but no luck. The guilty party must have been slick as whale s**t, because no one could catch him in the act.

There was one nice side to it, I always had a vase full of beautiful long-stem red roses on the table at home. But it was driving me nuts trying to figure out who my secret admirer was. Hey, I could like a guy like that. Flowers are a good way to get a lady’s attention. A little chocolate to sweeten her up, a diamond ring to close the deal, a little house in the country, then he’s all set to run back to town chasing every skirt that happens to flutter his way. It’s a basic plan older than Jesus.

At first this was all quite exciting; you know, a mysterious admirer, the thrill of the search, but after a month it was starting to get a bit scary. Who was this secretive person and why could I not catch them or discover their identity? I mean, after a month, you’d think he would have at least stepped forward and bitched about how much he’d spent recently for roses just to decorate my home.

Suddenly, a thousand-watt light bulb blazed to life in my little head. There was a florist a few blocks from my office. Perhaps my elusive admirer had been buying the roses there. What the heck, it was worth a shot, so I stopped by there on my way home after work. Today’s rose in hand, I walked up to the girl at the counter. I was surprised the place wasn’t packed, it was only a few more days until Valentine’s Day

“Can I help you, Ma’am?” the young girl asked.

“I hope so. Can you tell me if this rose came from here or not?” I asked, handing her the rose.

“I can’t, but the manager might be able to. I’ll be right back,” the girl replied, stepping into the back room behind the counter with the rose in her hand.

A tall, slender woman stepped out of the office, followed by the younger girl. “Hello, Ma’am. I can tell you this rose, and maybe twenty just like it, have come from this shop over the last month or so. But, as to who bought them all; I’m sorry, I would feel I was betraying a client’s trust. When this person decides it’s time to confess their feelings about you, believe me, you’ll be the first to know.”

“I understand,” I replied. “Can you at least tell me what time of day they come in?”

“If I could, I wouldn’t, but they come in at varying times of day. I hope you can appreciate my position on this. But, I will tell you this much; they’re here every day now.”

“Okay, I appreciate what you were able to tell me,” I said, walking toward the door.

“I’ll also tell you that I think you’re a lucky lady, I wouldn’t mind one bit having this person chasing after me,” she added with a big smile on her pretty face.

I stopped at the door and looked back at the tall woman. “Thanks, I guess. I did notice one thing, you always referred to them as they, never he.”

She flashed me a big smile. “You caught that, did ya?” she replied stepping out of sight, back into her office.

That was a ridiculous thought, I don’t even know where it came from; I’m not gay. Why did that even come to mind. Why would a woman be leaving me roses? I guess my mind was just being over taxed on the matter and was grasping at any straw that floated its pitiful way.

My head was really spinning now; this was getting out of hand, ridiculous. Now, I wasn’t even sure it was a man, the way the flower-shop manager acted was really starting to make me nervous. My every waking moment was being spent trying to find out who this individual might be, worrying about who it might be, afraid to even consider what the final outcome might be. I was finding it hard to concentrate on things at work; my mind was constantly cluttered with wild images of faces, places, names, and possible encounters. Fantasy had suddenly become a very important part in my meager little life. Isn’t it funny how much of an effect a few roses can have on one’s life?