White petunias

"Are you coming tonight?," Rachel, asked, standing in the porch light of my house.

"I don't know," I said sadly. I didn't feel like going out. I never felt like going out anymore.

I'd been an introvert before my mother passed, but now everything seemed to come into perspective.

Rachel grabbed my wrist. "Please?" she begged, her blue eyes boring into mine.

Maybe I needed this, I tried to tell myself.. maybe.

I sighed. "We'll see. What time is the party?"

Rachel got a hopeful look in her eyes that irritated me for no good reason.

"It's at seven.. I'll pick you up!"

"I still have to ask my dad," I grumbled.

"I'm sure he'd want you to get out of the house," she threw me a smile over her shoulder.

"Fine," I mumbled, shutting the door. I groaned.

I hated parties, they always played crap music, everyone wore the tiniest- or none at all- of clothes, everyone either smoked, drunk, or both. Everyone always wanted to have immediate, and unknowing sex with everyone. But besides all of that, I got really bad migraines, and I didn't even drink.

I walked passed my impassive father who was staring blankly off into space at the kitchen table. He'd been here for the past few days, barley noticing as the world spun around him. He took my mothers passing a lot harder than I seemed to have.

I shut my bedroom door, glancing past the dead, falling apart, flowers on my nightstand. I couldn't bear it enough to throw them away. My mother had given them to be just before she's died.

"It will be okay," she'd said.

That's what everyone says. But it never ends up being okay.

Those flowers were wilting, just like my mom had, dried, shriveled up and weak, wilting over until they were dead.

I sighed and sat down at my desk.

Suddenly my phone rang. I picked it up off its receiver on the wall, twirling the cord absentmindedly around my index finger.

"So," Rachel said. "Have you asked you dad yet?"

I flinched away from them memory of his blank face. "No not yet, he'll probably just say yes anyways."

"Perfect!," she said happily. "See you at seven!"

"See you," my voice sounded detached. With a small click the phone was back on the receiver when the line disconnected. I started chewing on my nails.

It was six-thirty, I better change.

I went to my closet, I had no clue what to wear. What kind of themed party was this anyway?

I decided out of the few dresses I had, that I would go with something simple.

It didn't hang to low on my chest, and had small straps that went laid (I thought weirdly,) but some would say delicately on my collarbones and shoulders. The light blue fabric stopped just before my knee. I pulled my hair back into a lose, low bun, leaving my side bangs out. I put on my butterfly necklace that my other had given me and my white Converse. I wasn't getting that dressy.

"Hey dad?," I said, slowly coming around the corner. I was afraid to see the look in his eyes.

"Yeah honey?," even his voice sounded off. Like a cover up of the happy man he used to be.

"Do you mind if Rachel comes to pick me up, for a party?"

"I don't care. Have fun, stay safe," he sighed. I could tell he was trying to sound enthusiastic, but he was doing a poor job.

I waited at the door for Rachel to come pick me up. When her car pulled up in the driveway, her face was shocked.

"What?," I asked.

"Wow!," she said.

I looked down at myself. "Its nothing much, really."

"You look great."

I sat down in the passenger seat.

"You're going to have so much fun!," she smiled.

"I'm regretting this already," I turned my head away from her to watch the houses racing past us.

"How far is this part exactly?," I asked. It seemed like we'd been driving for hours.

"Its only been fifteen minutes, Claire. We are almost there."

"Okay," I grumbled, scowling at the darkening sky.

It was obvious when we reached out destination. My mouth hung open like an idiot. When was the last time I was ever to a party? Better question, when was the last time I was invited or even wanted at a party?

The house windows were flashing with the lights from inside the house, and all the trees surrounding the house were all covered in lights and toilet paper.

"You are literally bringing me into hell," I whispered to Rachel by my side.

"Ah! You'll be fine."

I glared at her.

It literally looked like someone was trying to impersonate the house on Christmas Vacation, but very, very poorly done.

She grabbed my hand and dragged me into the house.

The second we stepped though the door my head was pounding with the bass, I could already smell the alcohol.

Rachel's hand left my wrist and I was being pushed around in the crowd.

I tried to find an opening, a bathroom, something. I needed to get away from the crowed.

I found a bathroom, but I didn't stay long. I gagged as I slammed the door shut. "Shut the damn door!!," I yelled behind my shoulder at the couple... getting down to business (if you know what I mean), in the bathroom.

Fine, this was a big enough house there had to be at least one bathroom without an imitate hookup in the midst.

I floundered around helplessly until I found the open space I was looking for. I slammed the door shut behind me.

I already felt sick.

The music was muffled.. a little. Another drop of the bass shook the mirror in the bathroom.

I sat by the wall, closing my eyes, and holding my fingers to my temples.

"Why did I let Rachel talk me into this-," I sighed.

But then I suddenly realized I wasn't alone.

A boy, my age, with blue-gray eyes, bronze tangled hair, and dimples as he smiled at me, walked into the bathroom.

I hadn't realized I forgot to lock the door.

"Are you alright," he asked.

I couldn't tell if he was just playing nice, or if is eyes really were that kind.

I nodded a little, and he just smiled. It was a breathtaking smile.

"May I ask what are you doing in here?"

"I- I don't like parties," I finally managed to say.

"Me either."

He grabbed one of my hands that I hadn't realized was bleeding. I did that sometimes when I was anxious, I picked apart my fingers until they bled.

"It's just a little to loud for me," I admitted though he hadn't asked.

"I know a place, if you want to get out of here," he smiled.

I seemed to become hyperaware of everything all of a sudden, I held up one finger.

"If you are about to take me off into the unknown and try and hookup with me, that is a definite no. But if you are going to help me out of here, then yes please."

"No, no. Nothing like that. I swear. I only meant that you don't look so good. I wanted to take you out to one of my favorite cafés."

"Oh," I blushed, embarrassed that I'd made up a whole scenario in my head where he tries to hookup with me and maybe even kill me afterward. You never know! I also read to many books... maybe an unhealthy amount.

He helped me up off the floor and led me through the crowed of drunk, crazy people. I took in a huge breath of air when we hit the outdoors.

He held the door open for me in his car, then drove silently to the café he was telling me about.

When he pulled up, he smiled widely at me. I seemed to be frozen. This was also my favorite café. It was my favorite because me and my mom used to go here all the time before she died. We would sneak out of the house before my dad was awake, and we would come get coffee and talk here.

I held back the lump in my throat as he helped me out of the car.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized, I quickly tried to see if I had accidentally started crying without my notice, luckily I hadn't. "I completely forgot to introduce myself. My name is Newt."

"Oh, I'm Claire," I smiled at him.

We walked hand in hand to the café, when we walked in, my mind filled with memories.

"Where do you want to sit?," he asked me.

"I know a spot," I told him quietly. I led him to the table me and my mom always used to sit at. I almost had a feeling that she was telling me what to do, she wanted me to sit here with my new friend.

He sat down on one side of the table, and I sat on the other. Adorned to the table in between use was a small vase of white petunias, they had been my moms favorite.

I stared at them intently. Normally I came here when I had the time and I would write to my mom.

I kind of reminded myself of the one character in a movie I watched that wrote to his late brother in the café they had gone to together right before he died...

I chuckled under my breath.

I hadn't realized Newt was watching me, until I looked up to him and he smiled at me.

I looked down at the small menu in front of me. The café closed at eleven, it was just now only nine.

A waitress came out, asking what we would like. Despite the time, we both ordered a small coffee.

"So," he finally asked. "What would you like to talk about?"

"I have no idea," I laughed. "I'm not good with people so.. I don't talk to them much."

"Me too. I can't believe my friend dragged me into that party," he shuddered.

"Same here! That is literally like a death wish. But I guess some good things did come out of it."

He looked into my eyes for a second, thinking about his answer. "Yeah, you're right."

We continued conversation the rest of that night. Talking about movies, books, favorite fictional characters (we were both nerds), dating history. I was shocked that both of our dating history was empty.

"I had a great night," I told him as we were almost out the door, still hand in hand.

"Me too, thank you, Claire."

"Hey, can I have your number, if you want to give it to me, I mean, you don't have to. I just thought we could talk more then."

He smiled at my wording, scrambling to correct myself.

He reached to the little table with napkins and straws, grabbing a napkin from the small stack.

He said nothing as he headed to his car, again holding the passenger door open for me. When he got in on his side, he opened the glove compartment and came up with a pen.

He wrote his number and gave me the napkin. I smiled at him. "Thanks."

He drove me home and kissed my hand before I opened my door.

"Bye, Newt."

"See you, Claire."

I stood by my door, watching his car drive away.

I changed into some sweatpants and went to bed, putting the napkin on my nightstand.

The next morning I called him.

Everyday went like this from then on. We would call each other, sometimes even meeting up at the café.

The first time he came and picked me up, my dad was standing behind me, waiting also.

Newt came up to the door with white petunias in his hand. He shook hands with my dad.

"I'll be in the car," Newt said after awhile of talking with my father. "Nice to see you Mr. Price."

"Nice to see you too kid," my dad waved. Then he turned to me. "Love you Claire, I think you made a good choice."

I smiled, hugging him. "Me too, Dad."

"Good," he sighed. "Go have fun!," he said, pushing me out the door.

We went over to Newt's house for the first time. It was a cute little house, and his mother was very sweet. He also had a little sister, she was fun, definitely a handful.

After that day we called each other boyfriend and girlfriend.

We were meeting at the café today. We sat at our usual table.

"Claire?," he asked.

"Yeah, Newt."

"Do you want to tell me what happened to your mother? I notice things that remind you of her.. I would like to know, if you want to tell me. I'll tell you about my dad," he gave a small smile, he was being honest.

I sighed. "My mother died a few months ago of cancer. Not long before the party," he knew what party I was talking about.

"I'm sorry to here that. My father left our family after my sister was born. He claimed two children was to much, and he didn't like that I wasn't like 'normal boys my age'. So he left."

"That's terrible," I grabbed his hand under the table.

We didn't say much after that.

But as years went by, Newt's mother was like a mother to me, and Newt said my father was like a father to him.

Life slowly went on perfectly.

We were walking in the spring, at the park near our house. I saw the white petunias. My mothers favorite.

She wanted this. She wanted me to be happy, she wanted my father to happy.

She brought me here. This was like her way of saying, "I'm sorry, I love you."

I'm sure she would love Newt, take him under her wing immediately.

Life went on, like it always does. I always saw things that remind me of my mother, usually happening when I was with Newt. She once told me something: Love has ways of coming back to us in unexpected ways. So if I ever leave, my love will come back to you, and I promise you will know it. And she was right...

We'd even had white petunias at our wedding. I knew that this is what she would have wanted, my mother.