I chose Rose because of her name. Of course she never knew that’s what I plant. She was a bit like a rose, too. She was nice to look at, but turned out to be quite thorny. It was often hard to get her to open up, and I quickly became impatient waiting for the rosebud to bloom. I asked her to leave after a month because I couldn’t stand her harsh tongue. I thought of planting weeds in her honor, but I would never desecrate my garden that way, so I planted___.
Elaina checked her dress three times before she headed down to dinner. After the chicken had come out, she’d had about a half hour to change and prepare herself for dinner with Rose. The woman had made it clear she would be attending dinner with them to see what kind of cook her son’s new companion thought herself to be.
Nervously, she placed trembling fingers on her door knob. She knew her chicken was beyond reproach. It was her mother’s recipe. Perfection in a pan. Still, she didn’t yet know Rose’s tastes. Robert’s mother might hate it. Somehow, that scared her more than anything else.
Robert was waiting outside her door. He’d insisted on helping her make a trifle for dessert by making the whipped cream, but something had gone wrong and he’d ended up covered in half of it. Now he looked clean and crisp, his hair slightly damp, though he was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
Clearly, she wasn’t the only one who was nervous about dinner with Rose.
“It’s fine,” Robert blurted out, causing Elaina to pause as she was closing her door behind her. “It’ll be fine. It smelled delicious. Mother loves trifle.”
Amusement at his sudden bout of nerves had her smiling as she linked her arm through his. “At least we have a hot dinner. I can cook, you know.”
“Oh, I know, I know,” he said hurriedly, awkwardly patting her hand, though it was more like a lazy cat batting at a dangling string. “It smelled delicious.”
Elaina suppressed a sigh. “Let’s just head down.”
“Oh, yes,” he said absently, and finally began walking.
The silk of the long blue dress she’d picked swished softly with every step she took, a bit of background noise as they made their way to the dining room. She took comfort in the sound as listening to her heartbeat thrum in her ears was making her nervous. Robert’s arm didn’t help much; he was as stiff as a mannequin.
Catch up on the story by heading over to the Writer’s Lounge.