Altar Roses by Nicole Westervelt

 "Lacey?" A familiar voice calls out my name as I am browsing the flowers in Harmony's Floral Village. 

I turn around and feel my neck stiffen and my legs grow weak. Noticing my reaction, I crinkle the corners of my mouth into a smile. It's John.

    "John," I laugh, trying to make things seem 'normal,' whatever that would mean to us. "What are you doing here?"

He walks closer, dressed in a gray suit complete with black socks. I was always telling him he had to wear those damn black socks, not white ones. 

   "Just picking up flowers," He smiles and gestures to me. "but I can help you find roses if you'd like."

I feel a genuine smile growing across my face, as my heart melts like an iceberg that was hit by a Lacey-size ship. If you knew John and I, or either of us, anyone could see why this encounter was iconic. One year ago in July, I left John at the altar. Our wedding day had arrived and passed, and I drove down to Cape Cod with my best friend Bentley. We cried, and cried, and cried some more. I never forgave myself for that, and never forgave John for being so calm and collected about it.

    "Roses are my favorite!" I exclaimed, turning back to the flowers on the shelves. With my finger, I searched for the Mother's Day tulips I had came for. "Perfect. Well John, it was lovely seeing you."

As I reach for the tulips, John does not move. Instead, he extends his hands to fit in his pockets, and smiles at me. John starts to walk closer to me, and I can only pray he doesn't notice the giant gulp I take.

    "I miss you, you know." He says, reaching for the tulips, and handing them to me. They're a lovely lavender shade, and I cannot help but act startled.

  "That's—why do you have to say things like that?" I groan, sneaking a grin of my own.

Of course John would say something like that, despite not speaking to me since I returned my engagement ring. Of course John would say something like that, despite me leaving him at the altar. He is a good, brilliant hearted man, with a dark complexion and kind eyes. Anyone would be lucky to have him…

"Lacey?"

~

Back to earth, Lacey. I I turn around and feel my neck stiffen and my legs grow weak. Noticing my reaction, I crinkle the corners of my mouth into a smile. It's John.

He turns around and exits the shop, leaving me stuck in a daydream.

Nicole Westervelt is a second year college student pursuing a degree in Literature Studies. Her favorite novel is Little Women. She writes to entertain her imagination.