Chapter 5: A Wilting Rose

Chapter 5

Rose walked upstairs, she didn’t pay mind to where the man had headed to. It would not be appropriate for the author to say that Rose had: “ Fallen in love.” But, Rose had fallen into one of her: “ I wish I had a dad” moods. Rose would come to hate herself when she would fall into one of those horrid moods of hers. Then, everything would commence the same way: Rose would tell herself: “ You are almost eighteen, it’s to late to look for a Dad.” “ Your almost an adult, grow-up and get over it.” Then sad, and disheartened Rose would fall into grey melancholy.

Sometimes Rose would cry, just a little bit. Especially after she began to think of her own dad, and the good times they shared when she was little. She would wonder what had become of those times, she would continue to grow sadder yet.

Rose shook her head in hopes of jolting herself awake. She turned around and before her was a table laid out with books. One of many scattered tables on the upstairs floor containing the new fiction releases. Rose only pretended to be browsing through the books. While all the while she was trapped in a deep, thoughtful reverie, wallowing in her own despondency. She picked one up, it had a peculiar cover. The drawing on the cover was stylized; it looked like one of those drawings you would see of people ( there was a woman on this one ) from the fifties or sixties, you know. Where everyone was flushed with color in their cheeks, and the medium was applied thickly. Anyways, the woman on this cover slightly resembled Barbara as Jeannie, which was what caught Rose’s attention. However, the woman was a brunette, and her harem costume was blue. She was smiling brightly and was surrounded by children, she had removed her head drapery and held it above her head, where it appeared that glitter was falling off of it. Rose placed it down before she read the title.

By pure serendipity, Rose had just so happened to turn her head, and she espied from across the room, browsing at books laid onto another table was the man she was talking to just about fifteen minutes before.

Rose felt her heart grow warm. She began to think, that perhaps it wouldn’t be a good idea to approach this man again. Her first acquaintance with him didn’t go so cordial. Something, however, which the narrator cannot relate, was compelling her to speak to him again.

Rose summoned up her shaky courage, and walked over to the table where the man had just picked up a book and was perusing it. He must have noticed Rose’s approach, for he placed it down, and turned his toward her.

“ I am sorry.” Rose apologized to him. “ I didn’t introduce myself to you, after I peered over your shoulder downstairs,.. My name is Rose, Rose Armand.”

The man smiled quaintly, “ My name is Charles, Charles Alan Williams.”

Rose smiled delightfully, he didn’t seem as solemn toward her as he did before.

“ It was nice meeting you Mr. Williams.” Rose said shyly.

Charles, didn’t reply to Rose. She grew unsteady. Rose noticed that he had something tucked under his arm. Four or five classical music CDs.

“ Oh, you like classical music? Do you like it very much??”

Charles glanced at the CDs that he had tucked under his arm. He chuckled, “ it is apparent that I do--” he named them off: “ Stravinsky, Rachmaninov, Beethoven, Ravel.”

“ Ah! I like Beethoven.” replied Rose.

“ So you do?” Charles replied with little interest.

“ Yes, I adore ‘ O namenlose Freude’ from Fidelio. The first movement of his fifth symphony; well, who doesn't like that one? Emperor!” Rose exclaimed, “ his fifth piano concerto, the third movement, rondo allegro. that’s my favorite definitely.”

Charles’s eyes widened in sheer incredulity. He knew very well, that when this girl had exclaimed: “I like Beethoven!” Well, so had said many other youths in Charles’s day. However, what had astounded Charles’s psyche is how quickly, and readily this ‘Rose girl’ had blurted out, and correctly too, the names of all these works of Beethoven’s. It left an impression on him.

However, Rose, seeing Mr. Williams seemingly hadn’t any desire to continue the conversation, glanced at the clock, that hung by the wall next to the stair case, and saw that it was almost time for her to take her leave.

“ It was nice talking to you Mr. Williams.” Rose said sincerely with a smile.

Charles returned it, actually more genuinely than he had previously.

“ Let us meet again sometime.” Rose said to him as she left.