The Rose

My first foray onto the stage my freshman year I played the part of a journalist in only one scene so I understood why no one I knew would attend By my last production as a senior I was the star of the show but you’d never know After delivering my last line the curtain falling for the final time I waited with the rest of the cast backstage as their families and friends flooded in complementing their performances as they filled their arms with flowers scenting the air like a florist shop while I stood solitary, my own empty Leaving the building I saw a single rose lying on the sidewalk that had slipped from someone’s bouquet on their way to the parking lot Picking it up I inhaled its perfume as I walked the dark streets alone back home to discover my mother wrapped in a robe reclining in her rocking chair like an old lady though she was only thirty five then smoking a cigarette in front of the TV my father fidgeting with his toy car collection neither saying a word as if I were a ghost they couldn’t see I grabbed a glass from the cabinet in the kitchen filling it from the sink inserting the stem of that one red rose which wasn’t meant for me