Lycoris radiata

If walls could talk, mine would surely be silent; not for lack of experience, but because they have simply said enough already and remained unheard. I have been unheard.

Why do humans insist on filling their hearts with pain?

Matter can not be created or destroyed- I have existed in many forms, from particles dwindling on the first breath of the universe, to the last whisper of a dying star. One day, I will live within the final flames of the ether as the totality turns to its final soot. For now, I exist within the chest of my host, pumping life through her body with a four-beat thrum that matches the syllables in her very name: Ve-ro-ni-ca. She is the manifestation of my own personal cosmos, and I, the very center, holding her life within my capable walls.

You'd think this might come with a modicum of respect, and yet, time after time, she takes it upon herself to delve straight into what causes me to ache along with her: love.

Throughout all of my time, the very concept of love has been foreign to me. After all, no one loves the pieces of a thing; hell, they rarely love anything or anyone at all. Abstract concepts are difficult even for humans to understand. It is easier to obsess, to enjoy, than it is to love; but not for Veronica. No, no, Veronica has the very mystery of it all down to a science, giving freely of herself time and time again as if spilling from an endless well of virtue that has, truthfully, run dry long ago. Yet even from the splintered and dehydrated depths of her core, she manages to summon more, more, more for the taking, forgetting to give so much as a second thought to herself. To me. It's no wonder we ended up here.

Veronica has a thing for taking in strays, the truly neglected dregs of society. I suspect she sees a bit of herself in them: abandoned, overlooked, disregarded by society as a whole. She thinks that if she fills the void within them, that she will somehow have something to show for it herself. If you ask me, it's an utter lack of self-respect. Usually it would be a forlorn woman she'd found in the labyrinth of New York City - an artsy type, nose firmly planted in some obscure piece of literature, all greasy hair and eyes that betrayed a broken background - someone who would come into our lives in as bright and rapid a flurry as they'd leave, taking everything from us and leaving nothing but patchouli-scented destruction in their wake. I think I'd be prepared to feel the cracks split open inside of me as she re-filled her already tear-stained pillow over yet another entitled Brooklynite, twisting strands of purple hair she'd harvested from the newest trysts discarded boar-bristle hairbrush in her nimble fingers, but this time was different, the kind of different that makes you long for a simple heartbreak, to turn back the sands of time to relive even the grizzliest of breakups. This is a pain that slices through reason, holding any hope of happiness hostage in its steely grasp.

With bloodshot eyes, Veronica feebly picked up her phone to look at the text message for what must have been the hundredth time, her glassy gaze refusing to process the words in front of her:

"V, I've got some bad news. You might want to be sitting down for this." the first blue bubble read. It would be the second that delivered the blow that would change everything.

"Lily passed away."

I continued thudding in her chest, racing almost as rapidly as her thoughts. Why Lily, of all people? She pondered. I could feel myself tilt onto the precipice of breaking. Why Lily, indeed.

It continued like this for what felt like an eternity, her cellphone wrapped in a slack grasp, her eyes fixed on the cracked eggshell paint of her surroundings as she sat unmoving. The sun descended, casting her face into shadow and emphasizing the hollows of her weary eyes. As the clock ticked past midnight, her phone released itself from her limp grip, making a sickening crack against the faded linoleum floor. She looked at it then, screen lit up with notifications shining through the fractured tempered glass of the screen, and let out a shuddering wail, clutching her chest as I finally reached my limit, pain bursting through me - through us - as if being ripped apart at the very seams. I could contain her life, but I could not contain this insurmountable sorrow. Her dearest friend was gone. Lily was gone - divided back into atoms that would never again take the same shape, no shred of destiny to contain her into one form. I hoped, beyond reason, that she'd one day manifest beside me once more.

The night passed by in a haze of tears and nightmares, forgotten memories and promises broken by the idea that there would always be a next time haunting Veronica as she shut her eyes tightly and begged for a rest that wouldn't come. Death has a way of sneaking up on it's survivors, the mundane tasks of picking an outfit fit for a funeral and preparing the proper mask to wear struck more harshly than the passing itself - shall we be stoic for her final rest? Hysterical? How much emotion is it appropriate to show; how small must we make our grief in the face of a now broken family? A now broken world. How much pretending is the sweet spot when we have to meet her families eyes? These are never the things that come to mind when imagining the last moments to be had with a 28-year-old woman; and yet, here we are, with no other option but to face these grim choices.

Lily had always had a poetic relationship with death- "The final beginning" she had called it. The two of them had spent long hours in Lilys meticulously crafted garden, Veronica content to listen as Lily rattled off facts about each and every one of her "plant babies". Recently, she had been fixated on her red spider lilies. Veronica wished she had heard, instead of just listening, when her friend explained their significance.

"Okay, SO..." Lily had started - "These are Lycoris radiata. All the rage in Japan, you know."

"Licorice what now?" Veronica laughed, sticking out her tongue in mock disgust.

"No, V - Lycoris. LY-CO-RIS. C'mon, keep up"

"Okay, okay. LEEEE-COHHH-REEEES" she annunciated. "So, what, is it edible?...Smokable?"

"No, it- you know what V, just listen!" Lily tossed one of her clippings at Veronicas face, a melodic laugh bursting from her core.

Lilys face had softened as she twirled the crimson flower between her thumb and her forefinger. "Legend has it, that if you see someone whom you may never meet again, these flowers will bloom along the paths you take."

"Way to get deep on me, Lil" Veronica quipped back.

Looking back now, she wished she hadn't been so blasé.

Veronica stood, her knees threatening to buckle from the strain of having been immobile for so many hours. She sauntered to the shower, popping open a can of cheap beer as she set the faucet to the highest level of hellfire, knowing that nothing less could wash the grief from her tired body. When she emerged, her skin dry and scaly from the assault of burning water, she threw on the only black dress she owned - ironically, one that Lily had pressured her into buying at the local goodwill - and gathered her thin, mousy hair into a ponytail at the base of her neck. She took a good, hard look at herself in the mirror.

"Okay," she said, slathering dollar store red lipstick onto her chapped lips as she stared at her pallid reflection "Showtime, I guess." She made it a point to stop by Lily's rooftop greenhouse one last time before hopping back into her rapidly aging Jeep, turning the key, and forcing herself to drive to the last goodbye they'd ever have.

The burial was painfully monotonous, all pleasantries and no trace of Lilys characteristic strangeness. It's almost comedic how in the tragic loss of a young life, their wishes are lost to those of the family. Her body clutched a lacquered wooden rosary, something she would have detested, but now wasn't the time or place to speak out. No - instead, Veronica threaded a stolen clipping of Lycoris radiata through Lily's fingers, flinching at their icy, rigid touch. "You're wrong, you know" she began; "We will meet again."

The wake and subsequent burial went by in a blur, well-wishes and condolences echoing from mouths that longed to scream. Veronica stood strong and silent throughout it all, supporting even those who showed their false-solemn faces, nosy minds prying into her deepest horror. None of it felt real, and she felt that any moment that Lily would jump from her burial shroud, shrieking with glee at her latest ill-fated prank. Of course, that never came to pass.

It would be hours before Veronica left the grave, light pelts of rain beginning to prickle at the numbness of her skin, nudging her to carry on. She stood once more, eyes fixed on the sodden earth before her. Earth that separated her from the one true love she'd taken for granted - her best friend. For the very last time, she blew a kiss to the ground beneath her.

"I love you, Lily. I'm sorry I wasn't a better friend. I'm sorry I didn't notice."

As a tear streamed down her frozen cheek, Veronica firmly closed her eyes and sighed, turning away from the freshly tilled earth of Lily's grave, making quick strides to the entrance of the cemetery.

I creaked in Veronicas chest, begging her to look back; behind her every step, Lycoris radiata bloomed, reaching out to her heels in a final goodbye.

In memory of my Lily- Suzy Martine Curran: April 22, 1994 - February 5, 2023. May we meet again on the other side.