Fandom: General Hospital
Rating/Classification: NAC, LoCa, angst, ficlet.
Disclaimer: Nope. I don't own them!
Summary: Who knew ordering a dozen roses could be so complicated? A short piece that I did *not* have planned but just had to write.
Another man's wife. Another man's wife. Another man's wife.
Before too long it runs together in your mind like a Buddhist chant, "Om,
Anotherman'swife, *shaanti*" and you clutch your cell phone until the face plate threatens to pop, hearing the florist's cheery 'good-bye' as if from a long distance...
You should have ordered something else. Roses are too common. They are for show. For her husband to seethe over. Iago's sinister whispers laying heavy on every thorn, raising Othello's suspicions. She deserves something rare. Something beautiful that blooms in the most adverse of conditions. Orchids or lotuses or jasmine.
Yes...perhaps, next time, you will send her an orchid with black petals as velvety and delicate as her eyelashes. Something just for her.
And perhaps you will continue to remind yourself that you are not your
brother and, one day soon, you'll believe it.
Another man's wife.
Luis died for far too little.
You would gladly die for too much. *Con alegria y amor.* With joy and love.
Emotions Luis barely understood.
As common as roses may be, you know she'll rip off any ribbons or wrapping, but lift the lid with reverence...and she'll bend down and touch a soft red petal too lightly to bruise it...she'll inhale the sweet fragrance with both her nose and her mouth.
Anotherman'swife. *Shaanti*. But you have no peace, do you? No meditative center that grounds you. Not anymore.
You have your own whispers.
They cut, sharp, and your fingers bleed.
Iago's greatest weapon was a simple, stolen, handkerchief.
Carly's is her heart.
August 25, 2003.