Some Pruning is Best Done in Fall
By: Craig Allen Heath
Tags: Fiction, Rejection, Love, Loss, Literally Literary

When Alexandra arrived home from work the first evening, she walked the flagstone path to the door and stopped when she saw Rose through the window, sitting at the kitchen table, chin in hand. She followed her wife’s gaze to the spindly rose bush planted in the flower bed along the walk. A single, mature blossom held its head high on the tallest stalk, the fiery copper and yellow hues echoing the back-lit clouds of early autumn sunset.

Alex closed her eyes. She filled her lungs and let the breath escape slowly through pursed lips.

She unlocked and opened the door to a tail-thumping, tongue-lolling welcome from Kali, the big German Shepherd rescue, whose smile and flattened ears and liquid brown eyes Alex could not leave unrequited. Some number of slobbery kisses and neck-scratchings later, Alex ordered the big dog to her bed under the kitchen table. She hung her sweater and bag in the hall and again exhaled quietly, to leave all unease behind, before she crossed the threshold into the kitchen.

She stepped behind Rose’s chair, embraced her shoulders, and kissed the top of her head. “Hello, beautiful,” she whispered, “Isn’t that a pretty sunset? How’s my love tonight?”

Rose did not stir. Chin in her left hand, her right on the mug of cold, untouched tea, her eyes on the rose bush in the yard, she mumbled, “I’m okay.”

“Yes, I can tell. You’re the okayest I’ve ever seen you.” With the waning sunlight the women caught their reflections in the window. Rose saw her wife’s wry smile. She smiled in return.

“Stop teasing and kiss me,” she said. Alex did.

“That’s better,” said Alex, “Any of that tea left?”

“Yeah, the pot’s on the counter. But it’s cold.”

“No worries.” Alex took a mug from the cabinet. “We are women of the future, with all the latest appliances.” The mug half-filled, she placed it in the microwave and set the timer. As the machine hummed, she struck a spokesmodel pose, gesturing gracefully to the oven. “Watch as the miracle of electromagnetic radiation is harnessed to reheat a simple cup of tea!”

Rose laughed. The laugh lost vigor and faded. As Alex added honey to her tea, Rose went back to staring through the window, her chin again in her palm, her mouth drooping.

“Want me to heat yours?”

“No, thanks.”

Alex sat at the table and sipped her tea, watching Rose’s face. She turned to the sunset in the window, the golden bands blending, Monet-like, with ocean tides of saffron and salmon, announcing twilight’s approach.

“I wish she’d never named me Rose.”

“She said for the hundredth time.”

Rose turned and stuck out her tongue.

“And, for the hundredth time, you know you can change it. Anytime you want. Legally.”

“I know, but what a hassle.”

“Just pick something to try. I’ll use it and we’ll ask our friends to use it. Don’t like it, try another. Maybe in time you’ll find something you like, and it’ll be worth the hassle.”

“Hmm. Maybe.”

Alex took another sip and set the mug down.

“Before, your excuse was you didn’t want to do it while she was alive.”

“It wasn’t an excuse.” Rose kept her gaze on the tea, tapping the side of the mug with her fingernail, the glistening reflections of the kitchen light rippling in waves on the dark surface. “I didn’t want to make her hate me more than she already did.”

“She didn’t hate you.”

“She didn’t love me.”

“That, I’ll grant you.” Alex sipped her tea and watched the campfire on the horizon fade and wither with every second.

Rose lifted her cold cup, sipped, and winced against the bitterness in her mouth. Alex saw Rose’s mother in the expression, the face she wore the day they met, the day Rose announced their engagement, the day before she died.

“I really thought she’d come around. At the end. God, at least then, right? Right?”

“I thought so too,” Alex lied.

Night signaled victory with a final slash of blood red on the horizon. Armies of lavender and cobalt claimed the edge of the world. Alex stood and closed the blind. “I think we need something stronger. You go pop a cork. I’ll feed Kali, then make us some dinner. Good?”

“Very good,” said Rose.