“I should have called someone else. Anyone else,” I mutter.
“No, really, I’m here for you. What’s going on that you’re acting so weird?”
I sigh, “Pot meet kettle. Okay, listen. I came home to find my house filled with the most beautiful roses I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m sorry. You’re calling me because someone filled your house with flowers?”
“Yes,” I whisper-shout.
“Lieshe, I don’t get it. What’s the problem?”
“Jo! A burglar snuck into my house and put flowers all over the place.”
“Huh. That’s weird. Wouldn't a burglar normally take something?”
I take a deep breath. I should have just walked upstairs to see if there was a killer. It would have been less painful than this call. “I need you to stay on the phone with me while I check my house to make sure there isn’t a killer hiding.”
Once I say it out loud, I realize just how dumb it sounds. I’m not thinking straight, clearly. Maybe the roses are also poisoned, and the toxic fumes are already damaging my brain. Shaking my head, I think,really, Lieshe? Not just roses, but roses with aerosolized poison?
“You’re doing that thing where you talk out loud again when you’re stressed. I doubt they are poisoned, but I’m glad you called me. I mean, yeah, I’m like eight states away, but I’m here for you. I guess if I hear screaming, I’ll call the police. But you know you’ll be dead by then, right? Do you think you should just call them now?”
She has a point. Should I? “What would I say? ‘Hello, officer, someone broke into my house and left roses everywhere.’ And the officer would say, ‘Oh no—not roses!’”
“Yeah, that would be a running joke at the department. Okay, go check it out. I’ll be on standby. Maybe get a weapon?”
Oh, good idea. I’d probably stab myself by accident if I grabbed a butcher knife. Do I have some pepper spray in the junk drawer? I keep meaning to buy some. I head to the kitchen and root around, but all I can find is silly string.
Covering the label with my hand, I clutch the can and hope it seems frightening enough. Walking down the hall toward the bathroom, I call out, “Hello? Anyone there?”
Jo whispers, “Did you find a weapon? Is anyone answering you?”
“All I could find was a can of silly string,” I whisper back. Jo dissolves into a fit of laughter until she is out of breath and all I can hear is her high-pitched gasps between wheezing giggles.
“Oh shit, I just peed my pants. By all means, please proceed with your silly string. Aim for the eyes.” She barely gets the words out between laughs.
I scowl at my phone but inch down the hallway until I throw the bathroom door open. No one is there, just the same old bathroom, penis candles, and all.
“The bathroom is clear,” I whisper, like this is some type of cop movie.
I head back out to the hallway and burst through my closet door. The only thing there is my usual mess of clothes and shoes. I go back into the hallway and tiptoe toward the stairs to my bedroom.
I’m thankful for the open concept main floor with few places to hide. I’m almost done. I just need to check my bedroom by breaking the most basic rule of horror movies by going up the stairs.
My heart is pounding, but I’m still not as scared as logic would dictate. Maybe because the flowers are so pretty, they seem harmless? As long as they're not poisoned, anyway.
“Hello? Anyone there?” I creep up, holding my silly string out like pepper spray.
“Status report?” Jo asks, recovered from her laughing fit.
“More roses,” I tell Jo incredulously as I reach the top. There are more vases up here, one on each side of the bed, one at the base of my flamingos in love, and on the coffee table in my little conversation area is an enormous basket of roses. There must be a dozen dozen roses in it. “Literally, a shit ton.”
“And you don’t know who could have filled your entire house with flowers?” she asks.
“No. No clue. Oh, wait! The giant basket has a note.”
I hurry over, put down the silly string, and pick up a small envelope. Opening it, I find a heavy cream-colored card. I pull out the note and read aloud the elegantly calligraphed words,
Love Eternal.
