Lost Love and Red Roses

"I quit! I'm done. We're through. It's over!"

Carmen knew that no one, except perhaps for the fat orange tomcat that seemed to live in the flower box below her window, heard her angry words. But she didn't care.

She plundged her newly manicured hands into the dirty dishwater and continued her vigerous scrubbing of pots and pans.

She scraped the loose remains of crusty ravioli off of a crystal plate and moved on to the silverware. She let out a long sigh.

Then a groan.

After a failed attempt at trying to unwedge get a bit of pasta from between the prongs of a fork, she threw up her hands in defeat, blew whisps of blond hair from out of her eyes, and sat down on the dirty blue sofa that made up all of the furniture in her living room.

She was tired and hurt and afraid. Dinner that night had deepened those feelings and her heart felt heavy.

Until last month, dinners with Caleb had been the best evenings of her life. Caleb was sweet, and charming, and drop-dead gorgeous. A taller version of Tom Cruise with a physique comparable to The Rock. He loved books, had a great sense of humour, and he could bake the best Apple Crumble Carmen had ever allowed into her mouth.

More than those things, though, was the way she and Caleb could talk for hours and not grow tired of each other. The way he looked into Carmen’s eyes when he listened to her. The way he took care of her. The way he treated her like a queen. They weren't just boyfriend and girlfriend, they were like best friends. Soulmates. Whatever you want to call it. But they were perfect together.

Or so Carmen had thought. Lately, it seemed as though Caleb had lost interest in her. Normally talkative, he had been quieter, more reserved during the last few times they had been together. He used to bring her dozen red roses without fail every three days, but she hadn't found a bunch of flowers at her door in weeks. At first, Carmen had dismissed it as him being busy. He was was working two jobs and helping his parents move.

But then she had begun to wonder...

Was there another girl?

Was she no longer good enough?

After Caleb had gone home that night, Carmen had cried. Her heart felt as though it was breaking. She had thought was Caleb so perfect. She had thought they were perfect together.

But now...

Carmen leaned her head over the back of the couch. It hurt her as nothing ever had before, but she knew that she was done with Caleb.

"I quit," she said again, this time in a heartbroken whisper. "It's over between us."

"Gosh, but you're a dramatic. Worse than a trashy fifty's romance."

Carmen jumped and let out a shriek.

Sitting at the kitchen table, completely undesturbed by her host's outcry, sat a little woman, cradling the fat orange tomcat the lived in Carmen’s flower box.

The woman grinned.

Carmen stared, horrified.

"How did you..."

The woman waved the question aside. "Don't bother with asking that, love. I get it all the time. I came in through the toilet. And, Carmen, thank goodness you flush. The things I've seen...''

The woman shuddered and offered another grin.

Carmen took in her strange little guest with amusement, not fear, as might be expected in such a situation.

She was small up and down, large side to side, and boasted a mass of greying curls on top of her head that was hideously arranged with pink bows and multi-colored feathers. She wore a grey dress that wrapped around her body in a way reminiscent of a Greek statue. Her wrinkled fingers were weighed down with silver rings, and gold rings, and rings that shone blue in a way Carmen didn't know jewelry could. She was obviously very old, though her eyes looked young and twinkled mischievously.

"Who are you?" Carmen sidled over to the table and sat down across from the woman.

"Doris. Doris Humpleshmidt. And I would be pleased to meet you except that you don't seem very pleased to meet me and it's only fair that we share the same overall attitude towards each other, isn't it."

She grinned again.

"What do you want?" Carmen asked.

"To help you, of course." She seemed surprised that Carmen would ask, as though it were perfectly normal for strange women to show up in people's houses offering their help.

"With what?"

Doris's thick Brooklyn accent became shrill and she sounded slightly annoyed. "Your lackuster romance! Your love on the rocks! Your relationship falling apart! Your distant boyfriend! Whatever you want to call it."

"Oh. You mean Caleb." Carmen wished this lady who knew far too much about her personal life would take a hike. She hardly had the energy to care that there was a creepy lady sitting at her kitchen table, much less listen to what she had to say.

"Is that his name? I knew a Caleb once. He was cute."

"Yeah? Was he tall, dark, and handsome?" The sarcasm dripped from Carmen's voice. Doris was growing annoying very quickly.

"No. Short, bald, and chubby. My first baby. Little Caleb Junior."

Carmen couldn't stop the smile that tugged at her mouth.

"Ah, a smile. A pretty one too. Now, what is your trouble."

Carmen hesitated. She didn't know this lady. Doris Humplesnought, or whatever it was. Why should she trust her? But Carmen felt somehow as though this lady could help her, however unexpected her arrival. So she told her. "Caleb seems to be losing interest in me. I'm giving him up. Maybe I should just give up men in general."

Doris gave her a hard stare.

"Carmen, honey, your 38. Your mother wants a grand baby, I know mine did when I was 35 and unmarried. She called me just to let me know every other day. Get yourself a guy."

"I thought Caleb was the guy. But he seems so... distant. And how did you know my name?"

Doris brushed Carmen's question aside. "My husband's distant, too."

"Oh? Kind of quiet, you know, seems like he doesn't care about you anymore?"

"No. He's dead. That kind of distant."

Carmen frowned. Doris seemed like a warped kind of therapist. Reaffirming her pain with negative humour. And she hadn't answered her question about knowing her name.

"Are you human?" The question flew off of Carman's tongue before she could catch it in her throat.

Doris gave her a funny look.

"I've never gotten that one before. Do I look human?"

"Well, yeah. But you seem... not human in some way. No offense."

"None taken. But no, I'm not human."

"What are you?" Carmen was skeptical and lifted in eyebrow in suspicion. Not human. Ha!

"Something other than human. You are human. You wouldn't understand. Now, let's go on. Have you ever thought of trusting Caleb?"

"I do trust him."

Carmen felt as unconvinced as she was sure her words sounded. Doris shook her head and sighed.

"Okay. You mean you trust him about as much as I trust that American Cheese is actually cheese, which is... let's see... not at all."

Carmen sat back in her chair. She crossed her arms and stared out the window. Fat drops of rain struck the glass and fell in rivlets down the panes.

The silence was thick.

Doris appeared to be thinking. Her eyes were fixed on the table and she was stroking the orange cat with such vigor that Carmen worried she might tear its fur off.

Finally, Doris refocused her gaze on Carmen.

"You know, when I was dating my husband, he seemed to lose interest in me for awhile, too. Tell me exactly how Caleb has been acting."

Carmen did. She told her of their lack of conversation. She told her of the lack of flowers. She told her how, after the many times she and Caleb had discussed marriage, her boyfriend seemed no closer to popping the big question.

Doris listened intently, nodding, grinning, stroking the cat. When Carmen finished, Doris let out a contented sigh.

"Sounds like a really hunk, your Caleb. Sweeter than my Uncle Marvin's Double Fudge Cookies."

"So what do you think I should do? Break up?"

"Honey, you break up now and your chances of finding someone else are slimmer than my girl Jane after a month on Weight Watchers."

"I could use a dating app. There are a kazillion of those and there is bound to be someone decent on one of them."

"The men on those apps are more fake than my Grandma's teeth. I say you trust Caleb."

"You keep saying that. But he doesn't love me anymore."

"Baby, he never told you that. From what you've told me, your love is stronger than the passionate feelings that eb and flow constantly. Emotions change. Love, true love, that is built on friendship and understanding, will withstand times when the feelings are lacking. Love isn't neccessarily about feeling in love, it's about standing with each other through thick and thin. Acting in love is different than feeling in love."

"Wow. Profound."

"I was married for fifty-one years. He still loves you, Carmen. I know how this works. Don't let him go. If you let him go over something as miniscule as him not buying you flowers, when times of true trouble come, your relationship will be hard pressed to last."

"You really think so?" Carmen felt a little bit of comfort blanket her cold heart.

Doris gave her a wide-eyed stare. "I know so.''

Carmen smiled.

"You know, honey," Doris said, taking on the tone of one about to give advice. "I might think about switching the hairdo. It might push Caleb along a little bit. It gives off 80's vibes. But not the coming-back-in-style 80's vibes. I mean the 80's vibes of something that should be left in the 80's."

Carmen laughed. "Caleb told me the same thing, actually."

"Ah, a real man. He's got the courage to criticize. Don't go passing him up, sweetheart. When I married my Herb, he couldn't even pluck up the courage to tell me he hated the way I filled in my eyebrows with eyeshadow. Poor man couldn't stand it when he leaned over to kiss me and the eyeshadow flaked off and caught in his eyes."

Doris glanced over at the clock on the wall.

“Goodness, it’s late. I’ve got to be going.”

“But…”

“I’m sorry, darling, I really am, but time is of the essence.”

Doris stood up quickly. The tomcat fell to the floor and let out a howl of rage. It scurried away as Doris busied herself with brushing off her dress and pulling on her shoes (which she had taken off at some point during the night without Carmen noticing.)

“Will I ever see you again?” Carmen asked. She kicked herself for the hope in her voice.

Doris looked up and grinned. “As long as you dating, or until you die of the exhaustion, I’ll be here. I stick around like peanut butter in your teeth.”

Doris winked and with one quick movement of her hand, she was gone.

Carmen frowned. A strange sensation came over her. The feeling you get when a nurse puts you to sleep before an operation. Confusion clouded her mind. A heaviness settled itself on her shoulders. Blackness descended over her...

***

Carmen jolted awake. She rubbed her eyes and tired to shake the grogginess from her brain.

What a strange dream, she thought. Her eyes burned with the morning light streaming through the windows and her throat was dry, her tongue papery.

The troubles with Caleb, her thought of breaking up with him. Those had been as real as the nose on her face.

But Doris?

A figment of her imagination. Something her brain had conjoured up to deal with her troubles. Of course, Doris's advice had been good. She had convinced Carmen not to give Caleb up. Still...

It had only been a dream.

Should he listen to the advice of creepy dream people like she listened to the advice of her very real mother?

Not that she did listen to the advice of her very real mother.

Oh, what the heck.

Doris had given her hope. Hope in Caleb's love. Hope that their love was real.

Carmen smiled.

The doorbell rang.

Carmen rolled her eyes in frustration. It was early. No one could possible have a good reason for stopping by at 7:00 in the morning. She looked down. Flimsy pajamas hung on her thin frame in a way that clearly didn't hide that fact that she wore no bra. She couldn't answer the door in these. She would wait until whoever it was left, and hope they would assume she wasn't home.

The doorbell rang again.

And again.

Carmen groaned, jumped out of bed, and hurried into some decent clothes.

She ran to the door.

Caleb stood outside. His gorgeous brown eyes gazed admiringly at her, and he gave her one of the smiles that always melted her. That still did.

Silence.

Carmen blinked away her surprise and looked down at his hands.

He held a dozen red roses.