Seeds

He heard her voice on repeat; "When the flowers die, the seeds come alive. When the flowers die, the seeds come alive. When the flowers die..." He hated dead heading the marigolds. His mother had taught him well, repeatedly. It would be five years that winter since she had passed. He could still feel her words. Delicately, he separated the dead flowers from the now useless stems. If he had wanted a smidge of affection from her, he had to be in the garden with her. She never recovered from losing Maple. None of them had. That loss confirmed for him how genuine connections needed to be. For a few months, the blossomed marigolds would hide the pain. His Mom would retreat to the one place her lack of human connection did not affect. Her garden. He bent over to pluck another dead flower. 'When the flowers die, the seeds come alive.'

Today, something shiny caught his eye. Concealed beneath the garden death of Autumn; a spark of 'hope'? He shook that thought away as fast as it came. His hands worked quickly to reveal the collar. He froze. 'Hope', he scoffed to himself. How many times had he been fooled by it? That miniscule dose of endorphins from a glimmer of potential love. What an idiot! He grabbed the collar, his hand locked in a tight fist. Ouch. What the? He hesitantly opened his hand. So true to character; move fast, get hurt, slowly look at the damage. The indent on his palm revealed the intensity of his grip and the shape causing his pain. He snickered and squatted to sit on the border of the garden, gaze fixed on his hand.

The ring was still hanging there. She never said yes, but she took the ring and the collar. Sadie never did like the new collar he bought. Was she selfish or clueless? What did she need a dog collar for? He shook his head. Leave the past in the past. Had it really been long enough to significantly bury all of those memories? That was all he needed to open the gates of sorrow. All those years of sarcastically denying the pain she had caused him streamed down his cheeks. His body folded forward like a weeping Buddha. He recalled how he planned, over planned, re-planned, talked himself in and out of it at least a million times. Fucking hindsight. He ignored every red flag. Every cautious 'Hey, how are things going?' from his mates. They all saw it. Hell he saw it himself. But he had made up his mind and in fairness to anyone who knew him well, knew you cannot change, alter, buck or sway him in the slightest once that was done.

What did his therapist say he was? "Experiential". He heard that voice in his head, "You have to go through the full process in order to, blah, blah, blah." Dumb ass, hard headed, makes expensive mistakes was what the therapist was politely/exitedly saying. The bill was well over ten thousand dollars before he couldn't take another moment of dead silence or listening to himself tell a stranger why he is the way he is. Therapy was her idea and she would just sit there beside him, chastely, like he was at a confessional and she was next in line. Listening but not acknowledging she participated, heard or cared to understand. Zero human connection. The therapist just let him talk and talk and try to justify himself until he was so confused and spiralling he had to stop. NOTHING would change on the other side of that office door.

Then, right there in the garden, it hit him. How ridiculous the whole situation was! He had technically paid more for therapy than the ring. He sat up. His eyes were now dry. He never made it back to the jeweller's to swap it out. Oh my god, even the jeweller knew. 'We have a new program' the jeweller said... the cubic zirconium 'size trial' ring was as fake as the relationship. He stood up and hurled the collar back to the earth. An exact replica of the night, two years ago, he found out and threw the collar into his Mom's garden. He hadn't thought about it for so long and just like that his mind snapped back and he was living it all over again.

It was Fall, two years ago. His pocket vibrated. He pulled out his phone and looked at the screen. God he hated these things. 'I'm ready', her text message said. Annoyed, he brushed off that he couldn't stand how she always communicated via SMS. Was he just agitated the he knew what the conversation was going to be about? Both. She had kept him chasing the worm for so many years. He'd catch it, get hooked and splash! The freezing cold water of release waking him up from that stupid comfort of love. It wasn't entirely her fault. He let himself get lost in the good feelings and put blinders on for all of the rest. How would a baseball statistician rank his feelings of love against the reality? It was a serious query. Maybe that would have saved him from all of her shit he had ignored over and over.

When he walked up the sidewalk that night, he noticed someone had chosen not to pick up after their fur baby. On any other night, he would have grabbed a spare bag from his car and kept all dog owners in good standing. Not tonight. He had to remain focussed. Maybe he did learn something from that therapist. Good job, Doc, but not for ten thousand dollars. Why was he so caught up on the money? Nope the therapy did not work. Focus he told himself. Up the steps and he was there, standing in the gazebo, revisiting the exact location he had chosen to have Sadie trot up beside him with the ring on her collar. That never happened. Sadie was not very trainable or obedient, instead he nervously gripped the collar behind his back. He twisted his hands until it was time to get on one knee. She never said yes, but she snatched that collar with the ring. Never even asked where Sadie was... she never really cared for dogs. A lot of red flags he never paid attention to.

And now, after three years of nothing, he was in the exact same spot. He looked at his watch, 7:01 P.M. They were meeting at 7, so she still had four to nine minutes to be 'on time'. He smiled and took comfort in her predictability. At 7:05 P.M., she pulled up and parked her car. She checked her face in the visor mirror and folded it back up. She looked stunning, as usual, and all the clenched teeth and unspoken truths faded away with every step she took towards him. She was a shiny jig tonight, luring him back in to catch that worm and be hooked all over again. He hadn't been fishing in years, but all those trips in his Grandad's aluminum boat made him understand the premise the fish were being subjected to. How did he become the fish?Why can't he have a clear thought? Ten thousand dollars and the therapist had zero insight on that. Focus. Focus. Focus. Whatever she says you will have to respond to.

There they were. Self inflicted déjà vu. Not the kind you feel when you meet your soulmate... more like the kind you get when you're returned to the exact place in time when you got off your path and had a 50/50 chance to get it right. And you got it wrong. For him, it was three years ago when he asked her to marry him. He had that same uneasy gut feeling as she got closer.

"Hi" he said when she was standing in front of him.

"Hi" she replied. "Has your Mom recovered from losing Sadie?" she asked.

What about Sadie? Mom's dog was named Maple... he was the dog she helped bury under the marigolds that Spring. Mom's true best friend, all of ours really. Everyone loved Maple... focus. She wasn't making any sense... was that even a real question? Selfish or clueless? A thought from the present interrupted his painful revival. How could he have even thought he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this woman? He shook his head, still sitting on the edge of the garden. Drifting back into his memory, he could hear her voice again. Word for word. "I don't know how to say this," she continued and extended the hand holding the collar, the engagement ring dangling, "but I had the ring appraised and I can't be with a man who doesn't know the difference between real and fake."

There it was. The words he needed to hear. She kept her hand awkwardly outstretched with that look on her face someone gives you when they are expecting an apology.

"Thanks." he said, retrieving the collar from her outstretched hand. "My Mom wanted me to give you these." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of seeds, delicately plucked from the dead stems that no longer served them. He placed them into her hand. "From Maple's memorial."

She looked down at the bag of seeds. The realization on her face was all he needed to finally see how wrong he had been. She looked up, stammered somethin unintelligible, said she had to go and walked away as fast as she could without breaking into a sprint. That was it. He was left standing all alone, feeling the depth of rejection begin until he heard a shriek. She had stepped in it!

Today, for the first time, ever, he was able to let the pain of her dumping him go. He hadn't seen her since that night. Not even when Mom died. Today, he finally felt free. It started at the base of his soul; the slightest chuckle that wouldn't stop repeating. His lips parted and his cheeks began to feel the width and duration of his smile. Then, there were giggles. He tried to pull them back in, like for some reason he wasn't allowed to show anything but misery. It was too late. It had turned into a full blown belly laugh, the kind where you lean back and your abdominals hurt but you can't stop laughing. You start to double over and twist and then the tears start rolling down your cheeks. This time they don't sting. He couldn't control the laughter. The maniacal joy of release you feel when the Universe lets you in on your own joke. The marigolds were dead, and the seeds came to life.