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Flowers for Lucy

Heather Kelly

    Lucy looked out her window into the dark night and could barely discern the outline of the great bridge that haunted her every day and night, whether she was seeing it in her mind or through her window. Just after it happened, she had considered moving to a different house, one where she wouldn’t be burdened with the sight of the bridge every day, but she felt that that would inflict further pain onto Edgar. Lucy had never made up her mind regarding the question of life after death, but she felt as though Edgar, if he were somehow conscious of such things, would prefer her to stay exactly where she was.

    Lucy continued to try and finish the letter she was writing to her mother, concerning the problems she was having with the roses she was attempting to grow in her garden, but tonight she was having trouble staying focused on such a trivial subject. As looked again out the window, her thoughts drifted back to that night fifty years ago, the night that Edgar had died.

* * *

      “What are you doing! Where are you going?!” a twenty-year-old Lucy shouted at Edgar as he whizzed past her in the night. She had been sitting on her porch, folding laundry in the crisp fall air. She had always loved the burning-leaf smell of fall and took every opportunity she could to be outside once the season arrived.

    “Everything will be fine, don’t follow me, it’ll be fine!” cried her fiancé, Edgar, running at full speed down the dirt road, in a quick breathless voice. Before she could ask anymore questions, he had disappeared into the evening. Several seconds later, three police cars roared down the very same road. Lucy, understandably unable to suppress her concern, got up off the porch and ran as fast as she could through the hidden path in her backyard. The path led to a point just underneath the beginning of the bridge. The dirt road where she had seen Edgar and the police led straight to the top of the bridge, so she knew she would be able to see, and possibly learn more about what was happening, from here.

    “Oh, my God!” Lucy gasped when she reached her post. She covered her face with her hands, watching the events unfold through the small crack between her fingers. What she saw was Edgar clinging to the steel bars of the bridge as he carefully edged his way along the outside ledge. The police were blocking both sides of the bridge with their cars to ensure that no other vehicles could pass through.

Lucy knew where he was headed. There was a hidden hole in the bank of land not far from where she stood where Edgar and she used to play and hide when they were little. She could still fit into it if she curled herself up tightly enough. If he could just make it past the water to where the land began, he could dash into that cave and the police would never know where he had gone. Lucy looked at the ground underneath the bridge to try and determine where Edgar would land when he jumped.

Suddenly she felt something silky hit her cheek. She bent down and discovered a crimson rose. She looked up at Edgar, who looked ready to jump as well. She gestured at him wildly, attempting to tell him not to jump just yet. Just before the grass began, there was a cement area which composed the base of the bridge. If he jumped now, he would surely hit the cement.

    * * *

    Lucy shook her head and brought herself back to the present. She did not want to think about the events that followed.

Giving up on her letter for the night, she retired to her bedroom and fell into a fitful and restless sleep. In the morning, still feeling upset, Lucy decided to put some time into her garden, an activity which usually brightened her mood significantly. Today, however, the garden was not working its usual magic. Lucy bent her head and began to cry, her tears falling on the pathetic little rosebuds that she had been attempting to cultivate. When Lucy finally opened her eyes she saw that her once small rosebuds had suddenly bloomed into beautiful crimson roses.

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