Celosia

Celosia

"That one, right there. That's the one I was telling you about."

The Man glanced toward where the Woman's finger was pointing and shrugged. He didn't seem too impressed, which was nothing new. The Man walked over to the flower bed and cupped the particular flower in his hand.

"Allium, so what?" the Man said.

"So, that's the flower I told you I saw behind that guy's ear. It was just stuck there, blowing around but never falling out. He was even riding his bike, but the damned thing just stayed in his ear."

"Again, so what? Allium isn't a very special flower. In fact, I'd say it's one of the more boring ones. Really, who gives a shit about it?" He dropped the flower, then walked away down the row, not seeming to care about a response. The Woman's shoulders sagged, and she followed him. A light drizzle fell on the two of them as they walked through row after row of plants, other customers of the greenhouse milling about as aimlessly as they were.

The Woman caught up to the Man, who had stopped to look at a particularly bright plant.

           "I've always loved these plants," he said to her.

She glanced down and recognized the plant. "Angel wings, yeah they're pretty cool."

"No, those are called elephant ears," he said, smirking.

"I've always heard them called angel wings," she said.

"Well, you heard wrong. They're elephant ears."

She gave him a sideways glance. "OK, I'm not disagreeing, I'm just saying I've never heard them called that. I've only ever heard the name 'angel wings'."

"You can't disagree. You're wrong. They've only ever been called 'elephant ears.' This isn’t an 'agree to disagree' situation. I'm right, you're not. I don't know how you think you can disagree with me, when I'm right." He turned and looked at her straight-on, almost as if challenging her.

Don't, she thought to herself. Not worth it. "OK, you're right, they're elephant ears."

"Of course, I'm right, I'm always right." The Man pointed to a bright blue flower sitting almost in the back of the row. "What about those? Should we get those? I think they would match your dress plus they smell great and would really add to the ambience of the ceremony."

"Yeah, sure, those are fine."

He sighed in impatience and turned to her again. "Now what's your problem? Are you pissed off again?"

She shook her head, looking at flowers but seeing nothing. "No, I'm fine, let's just find something you like."

"Well, it has to be something we like, remember? We can't just get something I want if you don't want it too. I'm not marrying myself, am I?"

She turned to look at the Man, feeling tired. "Babe, whatever you want, I want. They're just flowers, I don't care all that much about them. They're not worth arguing over, and I bet if you picked some out, I'd be happy with them."

"Who is arguing? I'm not arguing, I don't know what you're talking about. Plus, you have to help me pick them, I can't just do it all myself." He turned away and began walking down the aisle again.

The Woman sighed again and followed him. Just find some flowers that look good, that you think he'll agree to get. You know his taste, just please him and you can go back to not being miserable. She continued to follow the Man through the rows of flowerpots, not saying anything and trying to find something that stood out to her. Thunder cracked overhead. Suddenly, she saw it.

"That one!" she exclaimed. She knew he would be taken by the sight of the flower, burning bright red and tall like a bonfire, blazing and beautiful. The Woman knew he would agree with her and they would feel that bond again, like they used to, the feeling they got when they knew what the other was thinking, how the other was feeling, what the other wanted, without even having to say anything. Just a glance was all it took. "That one right there, celosia! That flower is fucking incredible. I think that's the one."

The Man looked at the flower, and the Woman looked at the Man, hoping. His face lit up momentarily, then the smirk came back. "That is one ugly fucking flower," he said. He turned to look at her and suddenly the Woman knew he had said it on purpose to hurt her. He said it, and then he looked directly at her so he could see how his words cut her.

He hates me, she thought suddenly. He actually hates me. There's no way you can be this cruel to someone you love. She felt her face get hot.

"I mean, if you like it, that's cool and all, but I think it's terrible and I will not have it at my wedding." He smirked at the plant again then walked away. The Woman stood there for a moment, tears stinging her eyes, then turned around and walked in the opposite direction. She headed for the bathroom, not wanting him to see her cry.

Why does he do this to me? the Woman thought to herself. What the hell happened to us? How did it come to this? If I marry him, is this going to just keep getting worse? If he's like this now, how will he be 10 years from now? Or 20? If I don't kill myself first, that is. The Woman went inside the restroom and found an empty stall. Closing the door, she sat down on the lid of the toilet and put her face in her hands. She could hear the drizzle turning into a steady rain outside.

They were slated to be married in one month. The Woman knew it was supposed to be a joyous occasion, but all she seemed to feel was dread. She and the Man used to be so close, inseparable. The best of friends. They did everything together. Laughed together. Loved together. They leaned on each other in hard times and for the first few years, it was like no one else existed. Then one day, it just seemed to stop. The Man became distant and sarcastic. He provoked her into arguments, and she fell into them. He stopped caring about what she wanted or how she felt and seemed to only care about himself. Sometimes he made her so angry that she got tunnel-vision and felt like blacking out, but it all seemed to be a game to the Man, like he was trying to see how far he could push her.

Maybe it's me, the Woman thought, not for the first time. Maybe it's something about me, driving him off. Maybe I am the problem. If I am, I don't know what I need to change. The Woman had asked him in the past, but he had simply denied that anything was wrong. He'd just say the same thing, that he wasn't mad, he didn't know why she was mad, it was always just that he was right, and she was wrong. She just needed to get over it.

But sometimes he is wrong, she thought to herself. Or at least, opinionated, but that never seems to matter to him. He thinks he's always right. How do you live with someone like that? Just how the fuck do you live with someone so deluded? Someone so self-important? Why can't he just have a little humility? Why is it so important to him to always be fucking right?

Because being right is all that matters, she heard the Man's voice say in her mind. If you're not right, you're wrong, and what do you have left then? Nothing. You're nothing. She thought about his smirk after he told her he hated the flower she picked out, the celosia. She thought he'd love it, but he hurt her feelings for no reason other than wanting to be right. Even something so trivial as proving she had shit-taste in flowers was more important to him than their relationship. Even though she knew he liked the flower too. She saw how his face lit up when he saw it.

What a fucking asshole, she thought. How many times has he done this to me over the years? Thousands? Why do I keep putting up with this? I'm never good enough, he's always telling me how I'm doing things wrong, explaining things to me like I'm a child, patronizing, belittling, demeaning. She balled her fists up, feeling tears stinging her eyes. I don’t know if he hates me or not, but I know for damned sure he doesn’t love me. I'm over it. I can't do it anymore. I need out.

The Woman rose from the seat and shoved the stall door open, suddenly determined to do what she never had the courage to do up until that moment. She was going to break it off with him, call off the wedding, and leave him. This was his fault, after all. He valued himself more than he valued her.

The Woman left the bathroom and strode through the rain toward the area she had last seen the Man walking to. She saw him immediately, his back to her. Her mouth was dry, and her legs were shaking, but her resolve remained firm. As she approached, the Man turned and looked at her. He was holding a potted flower, burning bright red, almost like a flame spouting from his hands. He was smiling.

"There you are!" he said, holding the plant out to her. "Look, I found this, I think this will go perfectly with everything, don't you? It's red like the bridesmaid dresses and will contrast with the white of your dress just perfectly!"

She looked at the flower, then looked back up at him in confusion. "Celosia," she said.

He raised one eyebrow at her, still smiling, blinking against the rain splattering his face. "No, I'm pretty sure this is called cockscomb."

She spoke slowly, trying to be as deliberate as possible so that her sudden fury would not spill over. Her hands were clenched tightly into fists, the nails digging into her palms. "Cockscomb is the common name for celosia. They're the same plant. The same one I showed you a few minutes ago. Which you hated."

The Man wrinkled his nose up in the way she used to think was cute but now just made him look like a mentally disabled rabbit. "Um, no. You're wrong. That was a different plant you showed me, and cockscomb is definitely not the same as—"

The Woman's fist flew out and smashed into the Man's mouth, shattering his front teeth. He staggered backwards, dropping the celosia, his own hands going to his mouth which had begun to gush blood. His eyes were wide, as if he couldn't comprehend what had just happened.

"Celosia is an edible plant used as ornaments!" the Woman shouted, left fist swinging in a long arc and colliding with his right eye. "The name comes from the Greek for burning!" Her right fist caught his chin, and his jaw became permanently relocated an inch to the right of its original position. He stumbled to his knees, head reeling, blood pouring from his mouth. He moaned and tried to say something through his broken jaw.

"It's an annual plant originally from Africa and Asia, and is known by many names, including 'wool flowers—'" she kicked him in the stomach—"'feather grass—'" she punched his broken jaw again—"and fucking 'COCKSCOMB!'" Her foot shot out like she was kicking a field goal and connected with the Man's chin. His head flew backwards, and he landed on his back in a puddle of rainwater, the blood now cascading out of his face. All around her, people stood motionless, too stunned to move at all. The Woman bent and picked up the fallen celosia. The pot was clay and heavy, a good, quality pot, and had not broken. The Woman stood over the Man who was staring up at the sky in a daze and lifted the pot above her head.

"Do you know how I know all this is true?!" she screamed at him. Spit flew from her mouth and peppered his broken face. He didn't seem to know where he was or how he had gotten there. She heard someone shout, no doubt realizing what she was about to do. But she was helpless to stop herself now. She had no control over her body. She had given it up, and all she could feel was the pent-up rage of the last five years.

"Do you know how I know, you fucking cunt?! BECAUSE IT SAYS IT ON THE FUCKING LABEL!" The Woman brought the pot down as hard as she could on the Man's skull, crushing them both at the same time. The Man didn't make so much as sound. His body spasmed for a few seconds, water and blooded flying off of him, then lay still. Blood began to pool around his head. People were now crowding around, trying to see what had happened. A woman saw the bloody body and screamed. She heard someone calling 9-1-1. Someone grabbed the Woman and hauled her away from the Man's dead body. She went willingly enough. Her mind had broken the same instant the pot had. The same instant the Man's skull had. She stared at the bashed in skull with a broken pot sticking out of it and realized the celosia now looked like it was growing out of the Man's face. She started to laugh. It began as a chuckle but rose until it was a full belly-laugh. She roared laughter at the sky and the sky roared thunder back at her and people stood around her looking horrified and confused. Several of them backed away and walked off in the other direction. A good deal more ran.

By the time the ambulance and police showed up, the Woman was screaming.