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A woman is not meant to receive flowers daily. In Janet Reynolds realm, it’s the custom, the blissful effect nonexistent. Sean O' Malley, the love of her life sends flowers, this is how he expresses he loves Janet. Display choices are limited nowadays due to the sheer number of red roses covering the entire room. The smell infiltrates as if her living room’s a funeral parlor, or rose garden, it’s too much. Her demeanor suggests a funeral parlor since she is not living.
Sean is the dearest most sexist man I have ever laid my eyes upon. His ginger hair and ocean blue eyes had me hooked like a fisherman looking for an enormous white whale. A year has passed, nothing considerable been changed. Night is the worst haunting dreams of the night he stabbed her over and over. There are times she prays slumber would come without dreams, a good night rest her body demands. Janet had refused to get help for so long, but Sean convinced her try to talk out the feelings.
How can I talk out feelings I do not understand? True, death had been closely upon Janet, she knows -Gary Anderson her ex-fiance tried to snuff out her life-force. Four months in coma, denied of living, four months she will never have the change to get back. Janet had thanked her lucky stars daily; Sean had not given up. He’s the only person who cares she breathes; his kids are grown. Her family been dead and buried. Dawn, been her rock on her mostly dark days, days Janet had endured since her failed murder.
He has been found guilty of being ‘The Redheaded Killer’ and sentenced to death. This ought to be marvelous news, but how can she move on? The pain is so immense how can anyone be happy that someone they still care for is going to die.
The trial of Gary Anderson passed, without her being involved. Janet neglected the experience confronting the piece of shit. As she gathers newspaper stories pertaining the trial. Janet stares at a picture of Gary, from the paper. His once gleaming dark hair limp and stringy. His face voids of emotion, only a sadistic smile that is barely noticeable. His eyes, devoid of all emotion as if something stole his soul. His eyes look as if the government has already hooked him up to kill him. Janet notices from the picture, wondering if there is anything left of the man she loved so deeply. Emotionless eyes will forever haunt her nightmares.
As Janet flips through the scrapbook, reliving the trial secondhand. A quote from the newspaper catches her attention, ‘The board is unveiled, pictures of women he killed so brutally lining the board, he shows no emotion Gary Anderson fails to react. This was truly an unsettling factor in this case.’
The paper also stated the only time he reacted, Pennsylvania’s district attorney held a picture of Janet to the jury. Gary Anderson lunged over the table, trying to destroy the picture, to stop the DA from showing his nemesis. The bailiff subdued him before he accomplished his mission. The judge had called a recess and removed the jury.
This information she gathered from articles from numerous newspapers. The reason Sean refuses her a confrontation while he sits on death row. No closure, no moving ahead. Janet’s breathing quickens, her nostrils flare, body tense to being denied her hidden obsession.
Countless instances she had brought to Sean’s attention, visiting the prison. Visiting her almost murderer. To her dissatisfaction this quest would never be granted. A sound snaps her out of her trance. Sean’s voice barely penetrated her concentration.
“Janet?” bellows Sean from another room.
“Coming,” scurrying to put my journal away.
Janet adjusts her clothes after she rises, her jeans are too big, her blouse hands of her shoulder, and leaves the room. Her clothes no longer fit properly. She is now a size ten. Once a plump sixteen, she now shops in regular sized clothes, no longer meandering through the plus size rack. Fear preys on her soul as if a lion is pounces her for his next meal. Janet spend her days lying on the sofa staring out the window, no longer enjoying watching movies, or TV shows. The things she once enjoyed now lifeless and boring. Daily she endures Sean’s lectures on why she doesn’t go anywhere. Depression set in to her deep down gripping her insides, she can’t let her feelings return to normal. Be the normal woman she once was.
Janet walks to the kitchen, plates of eggs, bacon, toast, and oatmeal cover the perimeter of the table. She gasps at the sight of enormous feast.
A hand flying up towards her chest, “Sean, what is all this?”
“I made you breakfast, love,” Sean moves towards Janet and slightly touches her cheek.
Janet’s heart quickens to the touch, her body responds, and her palms become moist. The slightest caress produces this response every time; they are newly found lovers. Sean moves closer to Janet, his lips parted he lightly brushes her lips with his own. Janet’s heart pounds so hard she can hear it in her ears, barely able to contain her composure she backs away from Sean. Her eyes diverting his, she denies him, since her accident sex wasn’t as important to her. Sean grunts, “Please, it’s been so long. I want to feel you again.”
“I’m sorry Sean. I am trying.” Her voice breaking as the tears gather in her eyes, blurring her vision.
Turning away he barks without emotion, “Maybe you need to go see someone Janet.”
He strides out of the kitchen, Janet cemented in place her eyes wide, mouth agape. Not the first time she endured his words about a professional, undoubtedly not the last time either. Not trusting her legs to hold her she plops in the kitchen chair. The stress eater she is, the first pangs of hunger sends waves through her stomach, a sensation she hasn’t felt in a long time. She is hungry. Filling her plate with everything that is presented on the table she begins stuffing her mouth.
While she is gorging on breakfast Sean strides through the kitchen door his silence is deafening. He walks toward the sink. Sean’s jeans hugging his legs in the right places, tight black t-shirt defines his stomach muscles. His ginger hair, the back long, a mullet from the glorious 80’s, freshly washed and styled. Sheer perfection. Janet’s heart quickens as if an adolescent unexpectedly invaded her body. Far from adolescent, suffered tremendous devastation already, she’s still young. Thirty is not old. She slept through her 30th birthday as if sleeping beauty waiting for her prince charming. Her prince charming had been there when she woke. He looked beaten as if he got into a boxing match with Oleander Holyfield. His features gaunt, stubble upon his chin. In that one moment, she realized Sean was the one who would stay with her through anything. Since they both went through the identical horrendous situation.
In her reverie, Sean, growls as if a grizzly bear suddenly entered the room. He clomps out the room muttering something incoherent. Shortly after, a loud boom permeates through the house. Sean Lowering her head, it’s as if time stood still. Hollowness creeps in her chest, tears well in her eyes.
He didn’t even say goodbye. Pushing her food from her, she wipes her cheek as the first of many tears start to fall.
A few hours later, Janet rises from the table, she lost track of time. This had happened often. Shuffling back to her bedroom, she stands by the door, the room is covered in flowery wallpaper. A king-sized bed takes up most of the space, a long mirrored dresser is to her left just inside the door. Janet enters and gazes through her closet. Pondering the thought to dress and accomplish something today. She decides against it, closes the door, she stands motionless in the bedroom. This has no shock value; she replays the motion daily. The outcome is the same, always.
Defeated she returns to the enormous bed and cuddles with Sean’s pillow. Janet follows this identical schedule day in and day out. She awakes before Sean returns from work, barely. He is oblivious to her daily routine. As she dozes off, horrific images infiltrate her brain. The sinister fiend ambles closer towards her, creeping closer. The nightmare takes over, and she is falling to the location she doesn’t need to visit.