The Rose's Tears: Chapter 2 Part 4

October 7, 2002, Maple Ridge Elementary, 3:47 pm

            Nathan couldn’t help but glance at Clare’s painting: it was really good. Nathan had given up on completing his drawing and instead took the whole time to admire Clare’s and work up the courage to compliment her work. Clare didn’t seem to notice and just continued working while she waited for John to finish recycling duty. Her painting was of a group of clouds with the sun peeking out between them, shining on a small village. Nathan took in a deep breath and shuffled over to her.

            “I really like your painting.” He said, nervously. Clare smiled, blushing.

            “Thank you,” she quietly said.

            “I love how…um…how you…” Nathan stuttered. Clare stopped and looked at Nathan, eager to hear what he wanted to say. They made eye contact and paused, then giggled and looked away from one another. “I think you’re really good at that.” Nathan finally said.

            “Thank you,” Clare repeated, “My dad taught me how to draw and paint.”

            “I wish I could draw as good as you,” Nathan said, sighing. Clare looked at him surprised.

            “I could teach you,” she suggested. Nathan’s eyes widened.

            “Really?” he asked.

            “Yes, it’s easy. Lemmie show you!” Clare said, grabbing another brush and some paper. “Here, hold the brush like this.” She said, grabbing Nathan’s hand and placing the brush in it. Nathan blushed and had butterflies fly around his stomach ad Clare’s hands held his. He felt a strange, unfamiliar feeling whenever he was around her and it scared him, but at the same time he enjoyed it. Clare moved his hand along the paper and helped him paint the body of a tree. She let go and admired Nathan’s tree, but Nathan continued to look at her eyes.

            “There, now all we need are leaves.” Clare said. Nathan snapped into reality and looked at the page, amazed with the clarity of what he drew.

            “Wow,” he said, “it worked. It’s like magic.” Clare looked at her hands and shrugged.

            “My dad just says it’s talent,” she said, “He draws murals and paintings for a people.”

            “That’s cool,” Nathan said, kicking his feet, “my dad is an accountant.”

            “What’s that?” Clare asked. Nathan shrugged.

            “I don’t know,” he giggled. Clare looked back down at her painting.

            “I’m making this one for my dad,” she explained.

            “It’s really nice,” Nathan said again; Clare blushed and turned her face away from Nathan. “I really wish I could have it.”

            “Well-” Clare began, “I could paint you one if you’d like.” Nathan’s eyes shot open and his heart raced. He nodded furiously.

            “Yes, please, that would be very wonderful!” He yelled. Clare jumped back and held her hands out, startled. Nathan took a couple steps back. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to, uh…”

            “I don’t mean to interrupt,” bellowed the deep voice of Mr. Ferguson; the kids turned slowly to face him. “But it’s almost 4 o’clock and I have to go soon, so you guys should make your way home now.” Nathan frowned and nodded. “I’ll see you kids tomorrow.” Mr. Ferguson led them out of the room and into the hall, locking the door behind them. He waved as he walked down the hall and around the corner. Nathan looked back at Clare and the butterflies returned; what was this feeling? I’ve never felt this way before.

            “Clare!” John shouted as he came running down the hallway, “I’m all done.”

            “Yay! Should we go now?” Clare asked; John nodded. Nathan felt his heart sink; he didn’t want her to leave. Clare looked back at Nathan and he immediately stood up straight and smiled nervously.

            “I’ll paint the picture for you soon,” Clare promised. Nathan nodded.

            “Thank you,” he said. There was a long awkward pause as Clare and Nathan looked at one another; John looked back and forth between them, feeling impatient.

            “Ahem,” he finally said. Clare shook her head and her and John ran down the hallway.

            “Bye bye.” She called. Nathan weakly waved, then sunk to the floor; he felt exhausted.

            “What is this?” he said, “Why do I feel so…good.”

Sometime later, Nathan’s house

            Nathan sat in front of his TV, playing video games. His father sat on the couch behind him, reading the newspaper. Nathan suddenly paused the game, his mind elsewhere. His father folded the paper down and looked at Nathan.

            “You look troubled, kiddo.” Nathan’s dad said, shuffling onto the floor. “Something wrong?” Nathan shook his head, but his father kept nagging him, “You can tell me, come on.”

            “I had a really weird feeling today,” he explained. His father felt suddenly worried.

            “Go on,” he said.

            “Well, there’s this girl in my art class-” Nathan said. His dad quickly placed his palms in his face, then rested his head on his fist.

            “A girl in your art class, ok,” he stuttered, trying to keep a tone of cluelessness, while his mind was filled with pleas oh lord, take me now.

            “I get these weird feelings around her,” Nathan continued. His father nodded. “And I don’t know what these feelings are.”

            “What do they feel like?” His father asked.

            “Like weirdness in my stomach,” Nathan explained.

            “You mean butterflies, boy?” His father said. Nathan nodded.

            “What are these feelings?” Nathan asked. His father felt somewhat relieved.

            “So, you just have feelings?” His father asked. Nathan nodded. “Nothing more than that?” Nathan looked at his father, puzzled.

            “Why do you asked?” he asked. His father paused, unsure of how to respond.

            “I’ll answer that when you’re 14.” Nathan’s jaw dropped.

            “Why?”

            “Maybe 15, anyways, this girl you speak of,” his father said, “What’s she like?”

            “I haven’t spoken to her much,” Nathan said, “but she’s good at art stuff. She was drawing a pretty picture.”

            “Sounds cute,” his father said.

            “Why do I feel like this?” Nathan asked.

            “Well,” his father started, “have you ever heard of a crush?” Nathan nodded, then felt scared.

            “You mean…I like like her?” he whispered. His father nodded. Nathan shook his head.

            “No, it can’t be,” he said, “I like like a girl?”

            “And to think that only a year ago you thought they had coodies.” His father teased.

            “What do I do about this?” Nathan asked.

            “Well, the best you can do is befriend her: talk to her, hang out with her, get to know her.” His dad suggested. Nathan blushed.

            “Um, dad, will I-” he hesitated finishing the question, “have to marry her?” His dad looked around and leaned in close.

            “You bet,” he whispered, “and we will all be very happy to see you two walk down the aisle next year.”

            “NOOOOOOOOO!!!!” Nathan yelled.

            “Frank!” Shouted Nathan’s mother, startling his father, “Just what are you putting in that boys head this time?”

The Rose's Tears: Chapter 2 Part 3

Downtown Calgary, July 7, 1997, 8:24 am

            Gerald paced the room as his lawyer/friend, Jeff, sat in a chair next to the door. Gerald was very restless, not wanting to go through with what needed to be done.

            “We just have to go in there, listen to the Liz’s lawyer read through the agreements, hopefully no arguments will arise, sign the papers and that's that.” Jeff explained. Gerald nodded, his heart sinking.

            “That's that,” he whispered. Jeff sighed.

            “Maybe try sitting down,” Jeff invited. Gerald shook his head, twiddling his thumbs. Jeff tapped the seat next to it.

            “I'm not sitting down, Jeff,” Gerald snapped.

            “It might help you relax,” Jeff suggested.

            “I'm getting a divorce,” Gerald said, “I don't think I can relax in this situation.” Jeff looked away, shaking his head. Gerald walked to the window. “I'm sorry, I don't know why I snapped.”

            “Hey, man, don't worry,” Jeff said, “It's a tense situation.”

            “Elizabeth is my sweetheart,” Gerald said, “she was my first friend in Calgary, my High School sweetheart, we lost our virginity to one another,” Jeff held up his hands, gesturing too-much-information. “Sorry.”

            “I'm just kidding,” Jeff chuckled; Gerald smirked. “Finally, a smile.”

            “Anyway, you can see how I feel.” Gerald said.

            “Trust me, Gerald,” Jeff said, “I've known you since I was five; I can tell how you feel.”

            “I suppose you’re right,” Gerald sighed. “It’s still hard though; worse than any break up I’ve gone through.”

            “You’re taking it rather calmly right now, though,” Jeff pointed out. Gerald laughed sarcastically.

            “I’m too tired to be angry or cry now,” he explained, “You should have been there when Elizabeth said we should separate.”

            “I can probably imagine,” Jeff said. Gerald sat in the chair next to Jeff and stared at the ceiling.

            “Remember how I told you a year ago that this was just a temporary thing?” he asked; Jeff nodded. “I guess, in a sense, I was right, but this isn’t at all what I hoped for.” Jeff placed his hand on Gerald’s shoulder.

            “I know, buddy,” he assured, “Neither did I. I’m sure Liz didn’t want this.”

            “Then why is she asking for this?” Gerald asked. Jeff thought for a moment, wanting to avoid saying something stupid.

            “There are some things that can’t be reconciled,” he finally said, “no matter how hard people try.” Gerald placed his palm on his face, rubbing his eyes.

            “Will I still get to see Clare?” Gerald asked.

            “Liz has agreed to grant you visitation rights,” Jeff explained, “Liz’s lawyer and I will go over this when they get here.”

            “I’m not really her father, through,” Gerald said, “Isn’t that in a legal gray area?” Jeff shook his head and took out a document: Clare’s birth certificate.

            “Read who it says the father is,” Jeff requested. Gerald looked up, deciding to humour Jeff.

            “Gerald Wolfe,” he read.

            “Gerald Ingrid Wolfe,” Jeff echoed, “That means that you are the father of her; not the step father, but blood father of this child in legal standards.” Gerald nodded. “Besides, you’re the only father she has and needs.”

            “I try my best to be a good dad,” Gerald said.

            “You do a good job, bud,” Jeff said, “And you will continue to do so?” Gerald nodded. “I need you to say it out loud. I’m asking as your friend, will you continue to be a good father?” Gerald looked at Jeff and smirked.

            “Of course,” he said. There was a knock on the door and in walked Elizabeth’s lawyer.

            “Sorry we’re late,” he said, “We can start now if you two are ready.” Gerald and Jeff stood up, both adjusting their ties. Gerald looked at himself self-consciously, and then tapped Jeff’s shoulder.

            “How do I-” Gerald started.

            “You look fine, Gerald,” Jeff chuckled. “Are you ready?” Gerald took in a deep breath, nodding his head. Jeff led Gerald into the next room. Upon seeing Elizabeth sitting on the opposite side of the table, Gerald felt his heart skip several beats; this had been the first time in since Elizabeth asked for the divorce that Gerald had seen her. Elizabeth looked slightly pale and sad, as if she was feeling the same as Gerald. Elizabeth wore a black shirt covered by a cyan sweater and long black skirt; Gerald wondered if complimenting her would be a good move, but decided to stay quiet for now. Jeff shook hands with Elizabeth’s lawyer, then with Elizabeth. Gerald reached out his hand and did the same. While shaking Elizabeth’s hand, Gerald could feel her sadness flowing through her like a river, making Gerald feel bad.

            “You look beautiful,” he said. Elizabeth looked at him, shocked at first, but then her cheeks slightly flush, like a small light had lit up, and a small smile formed.

            “Thank you,” she whispered, “You look good too.” The meeting went on for quite some time, Gerald tuning in and out depending on how important the topic was. Throughout the meeting, all Gerald thought of his wedding and when Clare was born, the happiest moments in his life.

            “Gerald!” Jeff said; Gerald jumped. “It’s time to sign now,” Gerald nodded and took the pen in his hand. As he placed the pen on the signature line, he hesitated.

            Is this really what’s for the best? He asked himself. Jeff saw tears dripping onto the table and placed his hand on the pen.

            “Do you need some time?” He asked. Gerald shook his head.

            “Just give me a second.” Gerald requested, and then leaned back and took a deep breath, wiping the tears out of his eyes. Then, he placed the pen back on the paper and wrote his signature, sliding the pen and documents away from him after. Elizabeth took the pen and wrote her first name down, but found she was also hesitant to finish. Her lawyer took notice and looked at his watch.

            “Is something wrong?” He asked. Elizabeth looked at Gerald. Elizabeth felt angry about what her lawyer said.

            What do you think? She wanted to say, but held her tongue and finished the signature. I’m really sorry, Gerald; for everything