Petunias and Roses

Petunia sat idly behind the counter, twirling her straight, chestnut brown hair around her finger as though it were the most interesting thing she had ever seen. She brushed the wisps of hair out of her dark, chocolate brown eyes, examining them in a small mirror hanging on the wall beside her. All she saw was a sea of freckles that obscured the rest of the features on her face. She had gathered quite a collection after being out each day setting up shop and tending to the flowers.

She brushed her bangs into place and stared across the shop at her partner Rose. She wouldn’t be able to lose Rose in a crowd, with her bright red hair and stunning, light green eyes. Surprisingly, with her icy pale skin, Rose didn’t have a freckle in sight, and her skin seemed to glow rosy with life. Rose was rocking rosy red lipstick that fit her perfectly, and that Petunia was sure, she herself would never be able to pull off. That’s how it had always been like with Rose. Rose could do things that Petunia could not.

            Petunia had met Rose in the seventh grade. Rose was new to class, but even then Petunia knew that Rose was out of her reach. It surprised Petunia when Rose came up to her, breaking out in a grin.

“Petunia, what a unique name. You're named after a flower, just like me.”

Rose slipped into the empty seat beside Petunia and mentioned, “I’m Rose by the way. I hope you don’t mind if I sit here.”

“No it’s okay.”

Ever since then Rose went wherever Petunia went. Some people almost mistook them for siblings, that’s how close Rose and Petunia were. Petunia almost forgot how different her and Rose were, but she learned quickly when they entered high school.

            Rose bloomed with beauty in high school. Just like her namesake, she was a standard symbol of beauty and she entranced every guy who passed her in the hall. Rose would often joke about how many guys asked her out and she turned down, while Petunia wondered why a single guy hadn’t asked her out yet. Petunia began to expect that Rose would always get what Petunia wanted but could not get.

Petunia glanced over at the sign hanging in front of the shop. In graceful curving letters was the name “Rose & Petunia’s Flowers.” Beside each name was a painted flower of a Rose and a Petunia. Rose was the one who had suggested that they make a flower shop.

“We can name it just like us. We can sell our flowers. Roses and Petunias,” gasped Rose, “It will be so cool.”

And they did just that. Rose grabbed the supplies and Petunia painted the sign. “We can call it Rose & Petunia’s Flowers.” Added Rose.

Petunia nodded and went along with Rose’s idea, though she quietly thought to herself that the name Petunia & Rose’s Flowers sounded better.

They filled their shop with rainbows of roses and bunches of petunias, but it could fit only so many flowers because of the tiny size of the room the shop was built in. The room used to belong to Petunia’s mother, but after she passed away the room belonged to Petunia.

It was Petunia who got up each morning to tend to the shop and manage the flowers. Petunia always had a green thumb, so it seemed natural to Rose for Petunia to tend to the flowers while she sold them.

It took almost a year for their business bud and bloom, but it was worth the effort to see their palace of flowers out on the street, just waiting to entice couples and romantics with their honey sweet aroma and whispers and promises of romantic gesture.

Petunia had set off two sides of the store, one for only roses the other for petunias and filled the middle with a variety of other flowers, arranged in a colourful pattern like a plumage of tropical feathers. Rose and Petunia made a silent promise to each other to keep to each other’s sides and sell their flowers.

Petunia felt comforted by the fact that they were only selling flowers and not looks, as she felt that she lacked in that department compared to Rose.

Petunia glanced over at Rose again and at her side of the store. Rose’s collection of flowers had grown bigger and more extravagant. February had just past and the spring season brought more demand for flowers. Rose’s flowers had crept over her side of the store and had started to take up the shelves that once held most of Petunias flowers.

“Roses are selling really fast this season,” explained Rose when Petunia had made a remark on how Rose had replaced her petunias with more roses. “If I don’t make room for them, we’ll be out of stock.”

“But what about the petunias?” remarked Petunia, “They need room too.”

“Just wait, I’m sure they will be in season soon,” added Rose nodding her head with her simmering sweet smile.

Petunia watched as Rose kept replacing her Petunias with more roses. “How are people going to see the petunias if they are at the back of the store,” she thought to herself.

The store bell rung and Petunia turned as a tall handsome young man walked through the door. Catching a glimpse of honey gold hair, she knew who it was before Rose ran out and gave him a hug.

“Noah,” Rose smiled, “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” murmured Noah brushing his fingers through his wavy gold hair.

“Looking for anything in particular,” asked Rose.

“I don’t know, maybe you could give me an idea,” muttered Noah as he stared into Rose’s golden green eyes.

“I might have something in the back room,” replied Rose leading Noah into the back room, where she and Petunia kept the freshest flowers.

Noah was a dream. The perfect guy. He was smart, athletic, beautiful. Petunia had a crush on him from the moment she met him in tenth grade. Petunia had always planned on confessing her love for him, but could never go through with it.

Petunia got up from the counter and up to the front window of the shop. Bunches of bouquets lined the front of the shop, visible from the street, advertising their business. Standing of a pedestal above the rest was a single red rose. Every week Rose would pick the best of her roses and put it on the pedestal for everyone to see. Petunia could see how it was the best of Rose’s flowers. Each petal was wrapped perfectly just like a picture from a magazine. Petunia glanced back at her flower’s wondering if she could put one of her Petunias out front too.

Petunia looked over to ask Rose if she would agree. “I forgot, she’s in the back helping Noah find some flowers,” remembered Petunia. She walked to the back, surprised to find that the door had been shut. Petunia wondered why Rose was taking so long to find a flower. Pushing the door open a crack, she peeked around the corner.

Noah was leaning close to Rose, their faces too close to be in casual conversation. Noah leaned forward until their noses were almost touching. Petunia choked in the tears, seeing the same look in Noah’s eyes that every guy gave Rose. Their lips touched and Noah and Rose leaned into each other’s embrace. Hot thick tears poured down Petunia’s cheeks. She pulled back in shock, like she had been branded with a hot iron.

Not Noah too. The one thing that she dreamed of having was ripped away like a budding flower plucked from the grass. The world started spinning. 

She glanced over at the rose set out front. She stumbled towards it, plucking it off its pedestal and throwing it in the trash. The thorns pricked her fingers like needles, but they felt numb to her. She grabbed one of her petunias off the shelf, replacing the spot that the rose once held. The rose may have been pretty, thought Petunia bitterly, but roses aren’t perfect. 

Even the most beautiful rose has thorns.