I didn’t go for red roses, opting instead for yellow. Friendship and care. Plus, my mom always says that yellow is a happy color. Hopefully they brought her some joy. I wouldn’t mention this to Brett. He was a great friend and an excellent colleague, but he knew of my past, and would disapprove, especially given my Zahra was a client.
Besides, I never actually stalked Evangeline according to the legal definition. I just found it difficult to move on from her. But I did move on. I had past relationships, some serious, some not so serious. I had to make sure I didn’t move too fast or fall too deeply. I wouldn’t. I was certain of it. I wasn’t obsessed. I just wanted to make my Zahra smile.
Chapter 6: The Rose—A flash of yellow
I scanned my brain for hours trying to remember my mother mentioning a Robert or Roberto. Nothing. But of course, the men in my mother’s life were plentiful and usually nameless. I remembered back to when I was 10 years old.
“Rose, you are more than old enough to look after yourself. This man is taking me to a hotel, so just go to bed at a reasonable time and don’t answer the door to anyone.”
“Can’t I stay at Auntie Jean’s?” I asked. Being at home was scary. The wind made lots of noise and when it was dark, the shadows outside all looked like strangers.
“No, I don’t need her up in my business judging me. Do you want a daddy or not, Rose? I have a right to a life too. And this man is an accountant. Very stable income.” She smoothed out her hair in the mirror, pouting seductively at her reflection. Mom was beautiful. I hoped I was that beautiful when I was a grown up.
I turned all the lights on when she left. It was scary when the house was dark. I liked to sleep in the living room because I could reach the two exits quickly if one was blocked. And I was fast. The second fastest in my class, so I could run away quickly if a stranger got in.
I always used the internet when Mom was out. She didn’t like me on it, but she wouldn’t be here until tomorrow. I liked to search for fun things, like who made the voices inThe Simpsons. But sometimes I looked for things that would help me be pretty like my mom, or so that I could have boyfriends too. Mom was always so happy and pretty when she went out, and she got a lot of presents, so they must love her.
I typed, “How can I be pretty” in the search bar. I didn’t really understand a lot of the answers. Lots of stuff from beauty sites. I screwed my face up in thought. “How can Imake someone love me?” Lots of the answers used big words and looked like doctor sites. Others were websites where people asked questions and other people answered. It was pretty tricky to understand.
Dr. Warren was very interested in my childhood, and it was helpful, but painful, to talk to her about it. I knew my mother was an irresponsible parent, now, but didn’t at the time. We moved around a lot, so I didn’t see many healthy examples at other people’s houses because we never stayed anywhere long enough for me to make friends.
The next morning, I slept in. It was my day off, and I didn’t have anything else to do. Today, I’d clean and go for a run. I loved running. At no other time was my brain so clear. I focused on my breathing and my pace; all of my anxieties and ruminations disappeared when I was running. It was peaceful.
At 2 pm, I was returning home after a great jog. I’d made excellent time, even allowing for the brief pause I took when the road was too busy to cross. There was a bunch of yellow roses in front of my apartment door. Had the florist got the wrong address? Two months ago, I’d been forced to interact with my neighbor, Gloria, when food was delivered incorrectly to me. She was super social and now kept waving to me and saying hello. I didn’t want to have to talk to her again.
For Rose, my Zahra, please smile. You deserve to feel happy.
I took the card and note inside. It was my name, but what who Zahra? A quick Google told me it was Arabic for Rose. Did I know anyone who spoke Arabic? No. Jason Barr spoke a few languages, but I don’t think Arabic was one of them. Glenn Maxwell, the building super, had dark features. Perhaps he spoke Arabic? He asked me out once, but he was old and I felt nothing for him, so it was easy to decline and not read anything into it. He was also a bit of a pervert. His eyes always lingered toolong, and he smoothed his hair out a lot while staring you right in the face.
This wasn’t good. I didn’t like this. Self-realization could be ugly. I’d delivered gifts to Blake and Dr. Conti. Unsolicited gifts. Did they feel like this when they received them? Or was I bringing too much of my own self-talk into it? Maybe Dr. Conti or Blake was getting some kind of revenge on me. Letting me know how it felt to be stalked. The card and happy flowers were not threatening in any way, but why not sign a name? My unwelcome gifts at least had my name on them. I stewed on the flowers until Monday, when I had my monthly appointment with Dr. Warren.
“Do the flowers make you feel unsafe Rose?” she asked.
“No, not really. I just need to be careful. If someone sent me flowers, I may have been at an inappropriate distance or said something to make them feel they could be social with me. I haven’t been, I promise. I must have slipped up somewhere.”
“Don’t punish yourself Rose. You have been doing so well. Are you still taking your medication?” She looked at me with a concerned expression. “Are you still taking your medication?” was code for “Are you losing it again?” She was a good doctor, but I hated how craftily psychiatrists hid their emotions and asked loaded questions all the while wearing a neutral expression. Did she think I should be scared? Is that why she asked? Or did she think I had finally lost it and sent myself flowers?
“Have you met anyone new recently or had any friendly interactions? The note indicates possession or emotion, perhaps from a male. What about Jason at work?”
“Jason Barr does not talk to me much. Glenn Maxwell smiles a lot, but I try to keep public distance with him, not even social distance.”
Ace—I mean Mr. Edison—suddenly sprung to mind. “I did what I told you last session and hired a personal investigator to find my dad. His name is Mr. Edison and he was kind to me, but professional. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You’re doing so well. Did you ask yourself your questions after meeting with Mr. Edison?”
“Yes, he was professional. We had personal distance, but it was in a small office. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t touch him.”
“It’s okay, Rose. You don’t have to become anxious. I’m concerned that you may be torturing yourself by analyzing every personal interaction you have. What do you feel for Mr. Edison? Have you watched him or looked him up on the internet?”
“He’s nice. He updates me about the case. I looked him up, but only to see his credentials and experience. I just looked at his website and LinkedIn, that’s all.” I didn’t admit that I found him attractive. Maybe Dr. Warren would think I was beginning to slip. I wasn’t. I found Chris Hemsworth attractive, but I didn’t feel like stalking him.
The session was good, and I left feeling lighter. Dr. Warren suggested asking the men outright if they had sent flowers, but I didn’t think it was a good idea. She was quick to tell me that it should be a fact-finding mission only, not a reason to begin romanticizing. I don’t think she liked that someone had done this. She didn’t want me to be alone, but I also think she didn’t feel I was ready to engage in a relationship. Dr. Warren was uncompromising when it came to encouraging boundaries, but she made it clear that I shouldn’t use boundaries to punish myself. It was a line I was frightened to straddle. Distance was safer.
Anyway, it didn’t matter. I didn’t feel threatened. Someone sent me flowers to make me smile, but I didn’t need external validation or someone to care. It could have even been Gloria. She seemed nice. I chanted a mantra on my way home.
Validity comes from my inner truth, not external judgment.
Chapter 7: The Hound—Lou from the bar
