Beyond The Roses

by Monica James

  “I have never met anyone like you before. Your strength is immeasurable, and the most remarkable thing is you don’t even realize how incredible you truly are. Your strength, your compassion, but most of all…” He pauses, lowering his head. “Your heart is unlike anything I’ve ever known before.”

  I want to thank him for such beautiful words, but I keep still.

  “You belong with someone who is young and healthy. Someone who can look after you.”

  I wet my dry lips. What is he talking about?

  “I can’t provide that for you…no matter how badly I want to.”

  “W-why not?”

  “I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” The regret weighs so heavily I can hear his pain.

  “I overheard what you said to June in your office,” I confess, watching his shoulders slouch. “What is it about us that makes you think we won’t have a happily ever after? Am I not good enough for you? Is that what it is?”

  Silence.

  I blink back my tears. “The least you can do is face me,” I cry, feeling rejected and unwanted by the man I want more than air.

  His head hangs low as his hands dig deep into his pockets. “I was trying to put distance between us, Lola, because I was…I am…I have fallen in love with you.”

  “You…what?” I gasp, drawing a wavering hand to my mouth.

  He exhales before confessing, “I love you.” Hearts and stars and tears should follow that declaration, but instead, I feel like it’s another goodbye.

  “Is loving me such a bad thing?” I pose, not understanding any of this.

  When he replies, I wish I’d never asked. “Yes. This can never lead to anything. I wasn’t being fair to you. I should have just stayed away, but I couldn’t. I was addicted to you. I still am. God knows if I was a good man, I wouldn’t be here telling you this. I would have left you alone and let you live. But I can’t. The thought of you laughing, smiling with another man”—he hisses—“kissing another man drives me insane. I can’t stand it.”

  My brain is going a million miles a minute. I should be over the moon, but I’m not. There is an underlying sorrow, and I’m just waiting for the infamous I love you, but…

  “Why is your house packed up? If you’re not leaving, then where are your things?”

  Each painful silent second that ticks by just adds to my bewilderment. He has divulged his sins, but I’m missing a vital piece. I’m trying to be patient, but his five minutes are almost up. I’m no closer to uncovering this riddle than I was before he started.

  “What was the point to this? What was the point of helping me, trying so hard to save me when you can’t even look at me? What was the point of falling in love with you, Roman, if we end in tragedy?” I don’t realize what I’ve said until his head lifts slowly, and a heavy whoosh of air leaves his lungs.

  “You love me?”

  “Yes. With all my heart.”

  If not for his shoulders rising and falling steadily, I’d say he was not breathing. I have just confessed my feelings to him, and all he can do is stand unresponsive, adding to my misgivings.

  Charging forward, I grip his bicep, forcing him to face me, but he doesn’t budge. “Your five minutes are up,” I spit, shaking my head, infuriated. “I was stupid to think you could ever love me. I don’t fit into your perfect little world; I never did. What was I, some charity case you felt sorry for?” My voice cracks, but I shake out my fears, not shedding a tear for someone who can’t even show me the common decency of turning around.

  “I’m far from perfect,” he finally says. “And I never felt sorry for you.”

  “Then why did you do this? Why do you want to save me?”

  The tension blistering off his taut frame almost burns me, and the room suddenly becomes still. I recoil and watch his demeanor suddenly change. “I want…I want to save you because I’m…beyond saving.”

  Before I rebuke his claims, he reaches overhead with both hands and yanks the collar of his shirt, pulling it off his body. I stand frozen, barely breathing as I’m faced with his muscular, broad back. I want to ask what he’s doing and why he’s removing his clothes, but I can’t speak. The words catch in my throat.

  The T-shirt floats to the ground as he unclasps his fist. “Eleanor was my sister, but that wasn’t her real name.”

  Time stands still. I will remember this moment for as long as I live.

  “She was a huge Beatles fan, and ‘Eleanor Rigby’ was her favorite song. She used to play it on a loop whenever she got sad, which was a lot of the time. It was her escape from living a life no one deserves to live. She was one of the lonely people, and for her entire short life, all she wished to know was where she belonged.”

  I take one, two steps back, shaking my head, unable to breathe.

  “She never found where she belonged; she ran out of time. But now I like to think she’s no longer alone. She’s no longer one of the lonely people because she’s surrounded by her kind. A field, a strawberry field of lonely people surely are no longer alone.”

  My heart lurches from my chest, and I gasp.

  “Her name was…Scarlett.” His words are slowed to gibberish, and I cover my ears, shaking my head violently.

  But that makes no difference because nothing can prepare my eyes for what I witness next. Roman’s head dips before he turns at an excruciatingly slow speed. He doesn’t meet my eyes, but even if he did, I can’t tear my gaze away from his chest.

  The reason is that sitting over his heart, the heart that pounded so soundly beneath my ear, is a long, jagged scar. The angry, red wound is the only answer I ever needed.

  Roman could have told me, but like with Erin, he knew showing me would be the only way I would understand.

  “So you see”—he places his flat palm over his heart—“not so perfect after all.”

  The sight of Roman with his head downturned, hand cradled to his scarred heart, will forever be etched into my mind. I don’t even understand what I’m seeing.

  Afraid that I’m seconds away from fading, I slump onto the sofa, attempting to process what I’ve just seen and heard. “S-Scarlett is your sister? That was the name of June’s daughter who…oh, god…” I cry, unbelieving. There must be some mistake.

  But Roman confirms my suspicions as true. “Scarlett was my sister, and June is…my mom.” He finally lifts his chin, the sadness pooling in those poignant eyes.

  He’s watching me closely, sizing up my reaction to what he just confessed. I may appear stoic, but on the inside, every fiber of my being is screaming in sheer horror.

  “R-R-Roman…I d-don’t…” I place a hand to my mouth, closing my eyes to stop the tears.

  Roman’s heavy footsteps sound against the soft carpet, getting closer and closer to where I sit. My eyes slip open, unable to focus on anything but the toothed scar. All those times he held me near, I never knew what he was hiding. Buried beneath what I perceived as perfection lay a broken man.

  He seems embarrassed and quickly attempts to reach for his shirt. But my hand shoots out, and I snare his wrist. He looks at our connection, then back up at me. “No, don’t. You’ve done enough hiding.”

  I want to ask him so many questions, but I don’t. I simply allow him all the time he needs to share with me something I don’t think he’s ever shared with anyone before.

  He exhales, before telling me his tale. “June told you about Scarlett?” I nod slowly. “She was such a clever kid. It wasn’t rare for her to correct her doctors on her condition because no one was better educated than Scarlett. She read every single medical article and book published on her condition. But it didn’t make a difference. In the end, the illness claimed her life.”

  I lower my eyes, feeling a kinship with Scarlett.

  “When she…died…” It seems Roman still has a problem saying her outcome aloud. “A piece of my mother died with her. She was never the same, and she never looked at me the same because we were twins…why was I still alive and Scarlett wasn�
��t?

  “She slipped into a deep depression and didn’t want anything to do with me or my dad. We tried to help her”—the desperation is clear, and I believe every single word—“but she didn’t want help. She shut us out.

  “I lost my twin, and I lost my mother. I needed her because she was the only person who could understand what it felt like having a piece of your heart ripped out from your chest, and in its place, a gaping void is left, which just got bigger and bigger.”

  He peers off in the distance, lost in time. “She pushed my father into the arms of her best friend. I know it wasn’t intentional, but she just didn’t want us around. We were a reminder of everything she once had but lost. I know why she did it, but I have never truly forgiven her.”

  I want to touch him, but I don’t. I sit on my hands, too afraid that if we make contact, I’ll disrupt this memory, which is one he’s kept buried away.

  “A kid can only take so many rejections. I moved in with my dad and his new family, but I never forgot Scarlett. How could I? Each beat of my heart reminded me of the life I stole from my sister.”

  “Stole?” My voice is merely a whisper. “You didn’t steal her life, Roman. You have every right to live.”

  “I was her twin. Why was my heart healthy, and hers wasn’t? Why wasn’t my heart the one to fail? I would have given anything, given her my heart if I could.” The regret behind his words is unbearable, and I choke back a sob.

  He clears his throat, pushing away his tears. “That’s why I became a doctor. I wanted to help as many people as I could because each face was Scarlett’s. With each person I helped, I gained back my belief that I was worthy of this life.”

  “Why is it a secret that June is your mother?”

  He shakes his head once before sitting beside me. “It’s not, but it’s not a need to know, either. And besides, I want to be respected for what I’ve accomplished, of who I am, not because of who my mom is. Up until recently, we didn’t even speak.”

  His lips curve at the corners into a sarcastic smile. “You know what the world is like. Just one slipup and another doctor is waiting in the wings, ready to take my place. This job is sought out by many. I don’t want anyone thinking I didn’t earn my stripes.”

  I understand. This world we live in is merciless and cutthroat.

  “Once June came to terms with Scarlett’s death, she wanted to honor her and her life, and that’s why Strawberry Fields exists. I’m sure she’s told you all about it. Scarlett would have loved it. Her field is named after John Lennon’s memorial in Central Park.”

  There is so much to process, but I know we haven’t even skimmed the surface. “You said up until recently you didn’t speak. What happened for that to change?” I know what happened, I can see it, but I don’t understand what I’m seeing.

  This entire time, Roman has been lost deep in thought, not making eye contact, but with the slowest of movements, he turns his chin to look at me. I knew he was a beautiful being, but now, his beauty is extraordinary.

  My hands sit limply in my lap, but they resurrect when Roman slips his palm over mine. The contact warms every inch of my body. But that warmth pales compared to what he does next. With trusting fingers, he draws my hand upward and places it over his beating heart.

  The scar beneath my fingertips is smooth. With a timid touch, I graze over it, but Roman seizes my wrist, as if repulsed that I’m stroking something he finds hideous.

  “This is what happened,” he replies, letting me go. “Yes, I became a doctor to honor Scarlett, but I also became a doctor to honor me.”

  My breathing begins a steady climb. “I-I don’t understand.”

  He wets his lips before confessing, “Scarlett and I were twins. What she had, I had too. Mine just lay dormant. I had congenital heart disease, just like Scarlett, but mine was—is—a complex, more complicated defect that presented itself for the first time when I turned twenty. Congenital heart defects discovered during adulthood can only be repaired surgically.”

  The walls close in on me.

  “My first surgery”—he absentmindedly rubs over his scar—“was when I was twenty-one. It worked for a little while, but it appears my heart is as stubborn as my head. The second operation was three years later. Open heart surgery to replace my damaged valves. That seemed to work, but I didn’t go into this blind. I’m a doctor. I know what my future holds.”

  “And what’s that?” I ask in a mere whisper.

  He consoles me, clasping my hand tenderly. “You know what.”

  No.

  This is his secret? His life-changing secret is that he’s…dying.

  A wave of nausea rolls over me, and I cover my mouth, afraid I’m going to be sick. Nothing comes up, however, because I’m empty inside.

  He did all this to save and protect me. Save me from the same fate headed his way, and to protect me from this heartache of knowing that Roman, just like me, has had his life snatched out from under him.

  “Why didn’t you tell June s-sooner? I know she regrets not being there for you.” She told me so herself.

  Roman smiles, and it’s so bittersweet. “Because my family has had enough heartache. She didn’t need another broken heart.” He cups my cheek, his thumb wiping away fallen tears I didn’t even know I’ve shed.

  Every single memory overcomes me, and I gulp in three deep breaths, desperate to push through and not break down. June’s gut-wrenching sobs in the chapel echo loudly in my ears. I now understand who she shed those tears for. She was losing both children. No wonder she showed such interest in Roman’s and my affairs. She was making up for lost time, and she had a deadline.

  I recall Roman’s many comments about not being good enough, or why anyone would want to date him. I now know why. Why start a relationship with somebody when this constant cloud of doom hangs over your head? I know that feeling all too well.

  Tamara’s comment about him dying a lonely old man, and how he had replied with an ambiguous response at the time. But now, it’s crystal clear. All of it is.

  “Why didn’t y-you tell m-me?” My stutter isn’t caused by my illness, but rather the fact I’m skating so close to the edge. What happens when I fall? I crumble, that’s what.

  “You know why,” he simply replies.

  He pushed me to fight because he understands what it’s like to be given an end date. He wants for me what I want for him.

  Life.

  When you’re sick, no one wants to be treated that way. They just want normalcy. Didn’t I?

  This entire time, I thought he didn’t want me because I was flawed, but in reality, he’s the one who saw himself as the biggest imperfection of all.

  “You can’t give up,” I cry, latching on to both hands and pressing them to my cheeks. I need to feel his touch, everywhere, forever. “You taught me to fight.”

  “There’s hope for you, Lola, and that makes me the happiest man alive.”

  “It still might not work,” I press, unable to accept his surrender.

  He shakes his head wildly, gripping my cheeks fervently. “Like I once told you, this will work, it has to. I won’t accept another outcome. Scarlett dying, my mom being a shell of who she once was, my failing heart, it has to lead to you living. Because what’s the point of all this heartache otherwise? Live for me. Live the life I can’t live.”

  Every part of my body aches. “How can I accept being saved? I’m no one special.”

  Roman pins me with those stormy blue eyes and smiles. “Yes, you are. And aren’t I lucky to have something, someone worth saving?”

  I throw myself into his arms, holding on so tight I’m certain we’ve become one.

  He brushes over my hair, kissing my thumping pulse. “I pushed you away because how can we be together? How is that fair to you? I didn’t mean to fall in love with you. Every time I pushed, you pushed back twice as hard. Every time I tried to stay away, I found myself wanting you more and more. You challenged me, you tested me, and I fell completel
y and irrevocably under your spell. You have given me something to live for. It may be in vain, but it was nice while it lasted. I shouldn’t be here for so many reasons, but I can’t stay away from you.”

  “I don’t want you to stay away.” I sob into his shoulder. “When I look at you, all I see is hope.”

  Roman sighs, and I feel an invisible weight lift off his shoulders. He lays gentle kisses under my ear, stoking a fire within. “You thought I was your strength…but the truth is…you were mine.”

  “Roman.” I gasp, unable to stand this turmoil. “There has to be another way.”

  “There’s no cure for me, but there is for you.” He presses his lips to my temple. “You’re going to heal. You’re going to grow strong. You’re going to make a beautiful wife and be an amazing mother. That’s all I want for you. That’s why I pushed you. The greatest gift you can give me is to…live.”

  A guttural sob takes over my body, and I weep uncontrollably, doubtful I’ll ever stop.

  We have wasted countless minutes hiding and lying to protect the other from heartache, but if we had been honest from the beginning, then we would have had more time.

  Suddenly, time is the enemy, and all I can think about is not wasting another minute—we’ve wasted enough.

  Nothing feels more right than when I press my trembling lips to his. My forwardness catches him off guard, and he freezes, his body growing tense. But he soon relaxes when I meet his eyes, pleading we forget everything but our love.

  My tears are long washed away when our lips collide in a union of longing, desperation, and need. Our kisses are fueled by what was just shared, and I suddenly want to climb inside him and never emerge.

  I place both hands on his chest, feeling his strong heart beating wildly beneath my palms. The life source is the sound I march to, and I stop overthinking and just let go. I furl my fist over his heart, and with the other, I reach around and begin to unzip my dress.

  Our lips never miss a beat as his frenetic fingers draw the straps over my shoulders and down my arms. I maneuver and twist before the dress pools at my waist, leaving us both bare. The moment he scoops me forward and presses us chest to chest, I want more—so much more.