The Rose's Tears: Chapter 1 (Please read the Prologue in the previous post)

October 3, 2002, Willow Park, Calgary, Alberta

            Clare sat on the floor in front of the television watching the after school cartoons. Sprawled on the carpet in front of her were piles of finished and unfinished drawings. The sounds of the TV flowed through one of Clare’s ears and out the other; she was more focused on the tiger she was working on. Most days, Clare came home to an empty house while her mom worked; she didn’t mind because she knew her mom was working hard to support the two of them ever since her parents divorced when she was 4. It was around that time that her talent for drawing came out, and she used it as an escape from the chaos surrounding her as her parents’ marriage fell apart.

            Elizabeth came home with her arms full of grocery bags. Clare rushed to the front door, stepping on some of her unfinished drawings.

            “Hi, mom,” she said, “How was work?” Elizabeth sat the bags on the ground and kissed Clare on her forehead.

            “It was boring,” she said, removing her shoes, “just finished some reports and had a meeting. How was school, sweetie?” Elizabeth and Clare took a bag each and walked into the kitchen, setting them down on the counter.

            “It was fun!” Clare said, jumping onto the counter, “Today, at recess, this boy, Arthur dared Kyle to eat an ant and he did.”

            “Yech,” Elizabeth joked, sticking her tongue out, “Why would he do that?”

            “I don't know, but it was really funny.” Clare laughed, “boys are so weird.”

            “I know they are,” Elizabeth teased, slowly creeping toward Clare, “eating bugs, and not to mention the cooties.” Elizabeth began tickling Clare. Clare laughed and playfully struggled to get away, running into the living room. Elizabeth went back to putting away the groceries as Clare crept back in. “I see you left some drawings on the floor, what have you been working on?”

            “A tiger,” Clare said, “we were talking about Siberian Tigers today during science, so I decided to draw one.” Elizabeth sat at the table and patted the seat, inviting Clare to sit next to her, which she obliged.

            “Did your dad call?” Elizabeth asked. Clare shrugged.

            “There's a message on the machine, so that might be from him,” Clare said. Elizabeth looked at the machine, seeing the blinking numbers.

            “Well, we can find out if you want to,” Elizabeth said. Clare nodded her head and rand to the machine, hitting the big button.

*You have one new voice message*

            Hey, Elizabeth, it's Gerald. For some reason, the bank won't let me transfer the support money from my account into yours, so I was wondering if you're home tonight I could swing by and drop it off, as long as that's ok with you. Call me back. Hi Clare, sweetie. I'll see you next weekend, I love you

Beep

            Elizabeth shook her head as Clare skipped back to the table.

            “Is your dad going on another date this weekend?” Elizabeth asked. Clare shrugged.

            “I don't think so, he mentioned going to visit grandma.” Clare said. Elizabeth nodded, then stood up.

            “Is all your homework done?” she asked. Clare quickly nodded. Elizabeth smiled and then patted Clare's head. “Can you take out the spaghetti in the cupboard and the sauce in the fridge and place them next to the stove for me? I have to call your dad back.” Clare agreed and Elizabeth walked to the phone and dialled Gerald's number.

Gerald: Hello, Gerald Wolfe speaking.

Elizabeth: Hey, I got your message.

Gerald: Oh, hey. Yeah, I'm sorry about that. The cheque I have won't...

Elizabeth: It's ok, we'll be home tonight, so you can drop it off after dinner if that's ok.

Gerald: Yes, of course. Oh, and I'm sorry that I can't take Clare this weekend.

Elizabeth: How's your mom?

Gerald: She'll be ok, I just have to make sure her paperwork goes through so she can go back to the home.

Elizabeth: Alright, well give her my best wishes for me.

Gerald: Thank you. I'll see you guys later tonight.

Elizabeth: Bye Gerald.

Gerald: Bye

Click

Later that night, 9:13 pm

            The doorbell rang just as Clare was crawling into bed; she smiled and waited for Elizabeth to tuck her in. Elizabeth answered the door; Gerald stood on the welcome mat, flapping a cheque in his hands.

            “Hey, sorry if this was too late.” Gerald said.

            “Not at all, come in,” Elizabeth invited, moving out of the way. Gerald smirked and walked in, removing his shoes. He turned and faced Elizabeth; the two stood awkwardly staring for a moment. Gerald blushed, then handed her the cheque; Elizabeth took it and walked into the kitchen. “Clare, are you all ready for bed?” she called.

            “Yes, mom.” Clare called back.

            “You wanna go say hi to her?” Elizabeth asked. Gerald looked up the stairs.

            “Sure, if that's ok.” Gerald stuttered.

            “Of course. Go ahead.” Elizabeth said. Gerald walked up the stairs and down the hall to Clare's room; he lightly knocked on the door, causing it to slide open. Clare's smile grew and she bounced on her bed.

            “Daddy!” She called, extending her arms.

            “Hey, sweetheart!” Gerald said, rushing over and giving Clare a hug. Gerald sat on the edge of the bed, pointing to his hair, where his left side showed recent signs on being shaved and the right side had the remains of a Mohawk. “How do you like it?”

            “There's no Mohawk anymore,” Clare said, giving a fake frown. Gerald twinkled his eyes and made a pity face.

            “I know, it's too bad, isn't it?” He said, “but it needed to go sooner or later.” Clare reached over and rubbed the shaved side of his head.

            “It feels cool,” she said, giggling. Gerald chuckled and then looked at his watch.

            “Bed time, kiddo,” he said, standing up and pulling the blankets to Clare's neck. “I'll go get your mom. Give me a hug and kiss.” He asked, which Clare did, “Goodnight, hun. I love you”

            “Goodnight, daddy. I love you, too,” Clare said. Gerald left the room and walked back downstairs. Elizabeth passed him on the way up the stairs, stopping part way.

            “You'll call and let us know when you reach Edmonton, and let us know how your mom is?” she asked.

            “Of course,” Gerald replied, “And I'll be back on Monday, so I can pick Clare up from school and bring her home if that's ok.” Elizabeth nodded.

            “Thanks, that'll be a big help,” she said. Gerald continued down the stairs and to the front door.

            “Call me if you have issues with the cheque,” he said, “Goodnight, Liz.” Then he walked out the door. Elizabeth continued upstairs and into Clare's room.

            “That was nice of dad to come see you,” she said. Clare smirked and nodded.

            “But no more Mohawk,”she joked.

            “I know, isn't that weird?” Elizabeth said. “He also said he'd pick you up from school on Monday.” Clare giggled and hugged her mom.

            “Mmmm, we have a big day tomorrow, so let's get some sleep,” Elizabeth said.

            “Yay, we get to see John tomorrow,” Clare celebrated.

            “Yep, and Aunt Clara.”Elizabeth said, “You have a good sleep and I will see you tomorrow.”

            “I love you, mommy,” Clare said,

            “I love you too, baby. Soooooo much!” Elizabeth said, giving Clare a tight hug. Clare lay back in her bed and snuggled in the covers. Elizabeth gave Clare a kiss and then walked to the door, turning the light off before leaving. “Sleep well, Clare.” she whispered.

The Rose's Tears: Prologue

May 16, 2003, Calgary Alberta

“What do you mean you can’t hang out with us this summer?” said the angry voice of Nathan Chase, 10 years old. Another boy, Tommy, stood in front of Nathan and two girls, Samantha and Clare, 9 and 10 respectively. Tommy had a sad look on him.

“Look, guys,” he whimpered, “I don’t have a choice,”

“Oh,” Nathan bellowed, “is it because we’re not good enough? We’re too boring to be your friends?”

“No,” Tommy said, “I hate saying this to you guys,”

“Then why are you saying it?” Samantha growled. Tommy couldn’t hold the tears in any longer, so he let them fall down his cheeks.

“I’m moving away,” he choked. The group became quiet, the silence broken only by the wind and a murder of crows down the street. Clare began to tremble and felt her heart sink as she saw Tommy at the point of crying. Nathan’s jaw dropped as he slowly walked close to Tommy.

“So,’ he said, “You’re abandoning us?” Tommy shook his head, stunned.

“Of course not,” he assured, “I’ll write you letters,”

“You’re abandoning us!” Samantha yelled, waving her finger.

“But, but, but…” Tommy stuttered, “I don’t want to move. My dad is making me. He's taking me to live in Kelowna and I don't think I'll ever be back”

“Who’s more important?” Nathan said, pushing Tommy, “Us or you dad?” Clare shoved Nathan away from Tommy.

“You leave him alone!” she screamed, “Don’t touch him or talk to him that way.”

“He's abandoning us,” Samantha screamed, “he's bad. He's being mean!”

“He has to,” Clare defended, “His dad is making him! Stop yelling at him!”

“Can I please explain what is going on?” Tommy asked. Nathan settled down and shrugged.

“Alright,” he said, “Why?”

July 6, 1992, Coronado Hotel, San Diego, California

Gerald Wolfe sneaked into his hotel room with a trolley, carrying a gift – covered in a blanket - for his new wife, Elizabeth. She had just changed into her pyjamas and was washing her hands. She felt tense, even though it was her honeymoon.

I need to relax, she thought. She walked out of the bathroom and climbed into bed just as Gerald slipped through the door. He felt as giddy as someone who had on his and Elizabeth’s first date back when they were both in 9^th grade in Regina. Elizabeth was surprised when Gerald rolled the trolley next to her, leaving it in front of the night stand.

“Did you order room service?” Elizabeth asked. Gerald chuckled as he placed his hands on the blanket.

“In a way,” he teased.

“But he just ate,” Elizabeth said, nervously. Gerald shook his head.

“I know, I know,” he assured, “But I have a special surprise for you!” He yanked the blanket off the trolley, revealing a bottle of champagne and a large bowl of ice cream. Elizabeth gasped and placed her hand over her heart. Gerald handed her a spoon and began to fiddle with the cork of the bottle. Elizabeth looked at the ice cream, then back at Gerald several times. “Go on,” Gerald insisted, “Dig in!” Elizabeth scooped out some ice cream and placed it in her mouth. She gave a half hearted smile as she swallowed.

“Wow,” she said, “It’s delicious,”

“Just like the dessert on our first date,” Gerald said. Elizabeth sighed and twiddled her thumbs, concerning Gerald a bit. “Is there something wrong?”

“Oh, no, nothing is wrong,” she chuckled nervously. Gerald felt that something was wrong, but was unsure of what to do.

“Are you sure?” he asked. Elizabeth sighed and turned to Gerald.

“Listen, I love you, sweetheart, soooo much.” Gerald felt like his heart stopped beating, anxious about what she was going to say. “So I should be honest with you.”

“Oh god,” Gerald gasped, still fighting with the cork, “You want an annulment.” Elizabeth shook her head.

“No, that’s not it at all,” she said, “It’s just…”

“What? What is it, hun?” Gerald asked, shaking.

“I’m pregnant…” The cork shot out of the bottle and into the wall. Gerald stared, rather shocked by the news.

“Oh,” he said, “Then I guess champagne and rum ice cream wasn’t the best idea.” Gerald placed the bottle back on the trolley and crawled into bed. Elizabeth placed her hand on his shoulder.

“Are you angry or upset?” she asked.

“No, just,” Gerald began, “Just a bit shocked.” There was a long moment of silence as Gerald processed the news in his brain. “How pregnant?”

“2 months,” Elizabeth said, “I’m expecting February,”Gerald nodded and looked forward, his mind scrambled with emotion.”Sweetie, are you ok?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yes,” Gerald said, turning his head to face Elizabeth, “I'm just...I feel happy and nervous at the same time.” A smile grew on his face. “I'm mostly happy though. We're going to be parents.” Elizabeth desperately tried not to cry, but her face was showing the tell tale sighs. Gerald stood and faced Elizabeth. “Tell me everything else,” he said, his voice raised, “I want to know what is bothering you about this, because I know you;re not telling me something. So tell me now!” Elizabeth broke down and placed her hands over her face, causing Gerald to slightly panic. His heart raced and he could feel the blood vessels pounding in his ears. Elizabeth wiped her tears and took in a deep breath.

“Gerald, I'm sorry,” she choked. Gerald looked at his wife, holding his breath and bracing himself for whatever else needed to be told. “Please forgive me, but the baby isn’t yours.”

2 Works (comment on both if you can)

The Ice

By Jonah Petruic

                I don’t know why I’m retelling this story; I hate remembering it and continue to have nightmares about it. It is by far the time I’ve been the saddest and angriest I have ever felt. I’m sorry, I’m trying to stall the story, but you have to understand: I really don’t like telling it! No one should ever experience this ever! And what makes it even harder to tell is that it was very much preventable. A life could have been saved and yet, a girl lost her life that day. She couldn’t have been any older than 16 and now she’s dead, all because….well, maybe I should tell you about that day.

                I live alone in Southern Edmonton, Alberta and every day I’d walk across the Saskatchewan River to get to work; even in -40®C I would toughen up and make my way to work in the harsh winds.  I had walked the same route so often that I wouldn’t need to think about where I was going; I could think about what needed to be done for the day and who I needed to speak to (if anyone). My route included walking across the 105^th street Bridge and then walking through Queen Elizabeth Park along the river. It was there that the tragedy occurred, while I was walking home. I reached the bridge and decided to stop and take a breath. It was snowing and the river was near completely covered in ice. The week before, it was rather warm, causing some of the snow and ice to melt, but then the weather turned and once again the city became blanketed in snow. I stood there, looking into the horizon, envying my family in Calgary and the warm weather they were getting. I longed for summer again so I could walk along the park without worrying of being late and enjoy where I was. I never knew that this moment would forever haunt me.

                I first heard a scream, then a splash. I snapped out of my fantasy and looked around. I saw nothing except a medium sized hole in the ice and signs that the water had been disturb. A girls head popped up and shook, as she reached and grabbed the each of the hole. I was stunned and glued to the sidewalk, unable to move. I looked to see if a police officer was around or if someone nearby had seen what happened. She cried for help as she tried to keep herself afloat. Each time she grabbed the edge, the ice would break off and her head would sink below the surface. No one was helping her; they walked on by and paid no attention. She desperately screamed for help as her strength weakened. I couldn’t believe it; people were letting this girl die. I was letting this girl die! I ran back the way I came and down towards the river, not fearing for my own safety. I felt a man grab my arm and pull me back.

                “Are you crazy?” he bellowed in a thick Russian accent, “You could fall through too!”

                “She’ll drown!” I yelled, “Call an ambulance!” But instead, the man shrugged.

                “Someone else probably called. I don’t want no trouble and I have places to be.” He said. I looked at him in shock.

                Who is he to say that? I thought. I turned and ran back onto the ice towards the girl, who was no longer visible. I collapsed to my knees, took off my jacket and plunged my hand into the water. A burning pain shot up my arm as the frozen water attacked it. Another man ran and knelt next to me.

                “Oh god,” he said, “Are we too late?”

                “Call 911, please!” I begged. The man took out his cell phone and immediately dialled. I twisted my arm around and around, but I could not find her. She was gone. I removed my arm from the river and gasped as the pain intensified. It felt like hours before emergency crews arrived. They ran towards use and two divers jumped through the hole. A police officer lead my colleague and I off the ice and back up to the bridge. I was sat in the back of a police car and told to wait so I could make a statement of what happened. Another officer came and handed a cup of coffee to me.

                “What you did was brave,” he said, but I shook my head.

                “I stood and watched,” I said.

                “But you’re the only one who did anything, apart from the other fellow,” the officer said. I hung my head and began to sob. I felt horrible and useless. The officer placed his hand on my shoulder and said something, but I wasn’t listening; I was too deep in thought.

                How could anyone just stand there or walk by? How could someone think that he has more important things to do than call for help?

                I learned later that out of the two of us who did something, there were over 100 witnesses who stood and watched or walked by, ignoring the girls cries. The girl’s body was found 2 days later, frozen on the shore down river a few km. I never found out her name. The Russian man tried to speak to me after the incident, but I left before he could catch up; nothing he can say will ever grant him my forgiveness or give me an understanding of his behaviour. The man who stepped in to help me left long before I did. I haven’t heard from him since, but hope I do sometime. In the winter, I drive to work. I no longer care for the air in my lungs or the exercise, because I think about now is the girl who died and how it could have been prevented. She was murdered by the stares of those who chose to look on and by the ears of those who chose to ignore her. Now, her spirit remains in the bottom of the river, trapped in the dark and cold.

Of Loss
Note: I have one major strength that is also one of my biggest drawbacks: I’m very empathetic.  I decided to write this after my friends cats died, both within one week of each other. This poem is a mixture of her feelings towards loss and my feelings of uselessness to help her in the situation, because, let’s face it; there’s no way anyone else can help to cheer someone up in this situation. Out of all the poems I have written, this and another titled The World I Made are the ones filled with the most emotion. Though these may not be how I feel at the present time, it is me remembering the times I used to feel this way.

I can’t count all the times that I’ve cried with my hand,

Because the feeling of loneliness is something I understand;

Being ignored or forgotten, it happens all the time,

Because the mountain of life is a lonely place to climb.

We once had toys that we played with all day,

Now lie in a landfill and have turned to grey;

They once made children laugh and sing,

But now they no longer do a god damn thing.

There’s no longer a forest behind that hill,

The trees were hacked apart in the lumber mill;

 And now the river nearby is either shallow or dried,

And the fish have shrivelled up and died.

I used to know people I’d see every day,

We vowed “Best friends to the end we’ll stay,”

But now they all think I’m worse than dirt,

And cause my stomach and heart to hurt.

And I can’t forget to mention all the romance,

How way back in school I’d ask the girls to dance;

And then a week later they’d find another boy,

And said I was just a decoy.

As I am 18 now I think to myself,

What’s the point in being popular, what’s the point in wealth;

It never brought me happiness, just regret and hurt,

And all sorts of burdens placed upon my shirt.

I lost a lot I cared for because I went the wrong way,

Instead of being good my life went astray;

I too ignored and forgot precious things,

And feel like I have lost my wings.

Unfortunately it was all unavoidable,

Because we take precious things to be undesirable.

We must learn empathy or we’ll lose our way

And forever we’ll regret that fateful day

Of loss, I must say it’s a horrible taunt,

Of loss, I must say it’s will always haunt;

Of loss, I must say it's a terrable cursed,

Of loss, I must say it makes you feel the worst.