Two Yellow Roses

Is it ever too late for love?

The waitress’s usual station was the patio, five tables that overlooked the square. On days when the weather was pleasant tourists preferred it because they could sit and watch the city’s panoply go by, an unending parade of the beautiful and the ugly, the rich and the poor, the glamorous and the wretched. But on this August afternoon it was much too hot to sit on the patio so the waitress was reassigned to some tables in the bar area. She was grateful because hot days meant strong thirsts and good tips.

She was surprised to see an older man being led to the patio by the hostess, who rolled her eyes as she passed. The man was dressed like an undertaker in a black suit, black tie and white shirt. He had a yellow rose pinned to his lapel. After she had seated him the hostess walked up to the waitress. “He’s gonna die out there, but he’s meeting someone and he promised he’d be on the patio.” She shrugged.

“It’s only one  table, and the lunch rush is over,” said the waitress. “I’ll take care of it.” She picked up a glass, a pitcher of ice water, and went out onto the patio.  As she poured the water she said, “It must be someone special.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Not everybody’s worth waiting in this heat for,” she said. “Must be someone special.” The man reminded the waitress of a favorite uncle, one who always knew exactly what she wanted for Christmas and who would always listen patiently to her adolescent tales of woe and self-pity. Beads of sweat were already beginning to appear on his pink face and balding scalp.

“Well,” said the man, “I don’t really know if it’s someone special or not. That’s what I’m here to find out. It’s someone I met on an over-fifty dating site.” He giggled with delight. “I suppose you think I’m being naughty, an old man like me trying to find a lover.”

The waitress thought of her uncle, his kindness, his patience, his ready smile. So unlike her own father. Her uncle had never married and when he died, he died alone, in his apartment. It was days before his body was discovered. She smiled and winked at her customer. “Love is a good thing,” she said. “At any age. Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No, thank you. It shouldn’t be long. And if you see a woman with a yellow rose in her hair send her my way. That's how we'll know one another. Two yellow roses.” He took out a handkerchief and wiped away some of the sweat on his face. “When she gets here maybe we’ll move inside.”

“Of course.” The waitress nodded and, leaving the pitcher of water on the table, returned to the bar area.

For the next hour the waitress served drinks and over-priced appetizers to her bar customers. When she had the time she would glance out at the patio, where the man remained sitting placidly. At least once every ten minutes she would go out and ask him if there was anything she could get for him. Each time he smiled and said, “No, thank you.” But each time the curl of his smile was drawn a bit farther down at the corners.  

After an hour an a half the waitress went up to the hostess. “Poor guy,” she said.

“Who’s that?”

“The old man on the patio.”

“Oh,” said the hostess. “I forgot he was out there. Still hasn’t ordered anything?”

“No. He’s just waiting. Waiting on a blind date.”

“You’re kidding. A man that old?” Laughing, she added, “I would have thought that love would be in his rearview mirror.”

“It’s just sad. Waiting so long in this heat. Waiting for a woman with a yellow rose in her hair.”

“Really?” said the hostess. “A yellow rose? That’s funny. Not long after I seated him a woman who might have been, I don’t know, sixty maybe, came in with a yellow rose. It wasn’t in her hair, she was just holding it.”

“Is she still here?”

“No, she just stood there. She seemed kind of nervous. When I asked her if she wanted to be seated she said ‘No, not yet.’ I left her alone for a while and the next thing I know I see her out on the sidewalk walking away. Funny.”

“Yeah,” said the waitress. “Funny.”

The waitress went out onto the patio. The old man looked up at her and tried to smile. He failed. “I guess she’s not coming.” He sighed. “You must think I’m a silly old fool.”

“Not at all. Why don’t you let me buy you a beer, or an appetizer.”

“No, thank you.” He stood, reached in his pocket and pulled out several bills. He put them on the table. “For your trouble,” he said. “And your kindness.”

She pushed the bills back at him. The man left the bills on the table and turned to leave. Just then the hostess came out onto the patio, leading a sixty-something year old woman who carried a yellow rose.

“I’m so sorry,” said the woman as she held out her hand to the man. “I was just so nervous. I almost came in a while ago, then ran away. Like a silly school girl.”

“Well,” said the man, shaking her hand, a fresh smile stretched across his face. “I’m glad you reconsidered.” He turned to the waitress. “Something special, my dear,” he said. “And cold of course.”

“Of course,” said the waitress as she pulled out a chair for the woman. “Of course.”

 

                           © 2016 Stanley R. Teater

                                      All rights reserved

Reviews

[Kami]

Yes! I can see the scene in my head. Something so everyday as a cafe, a waitress, a hostess and an older man and woman are brought to life through your words. I'm a fan of everyday life storytelling (fiction or non), because it is so special- once a day is gone, it is gone forever. Yet its essence can be captured in words.

[Ghada Elgazzar]

i get emotionally attached to every story i read. thank god she came at last. very nice story i liked it. romance is always a sweet thing to read.

[Valentine]

Romance for the older people, good going so far. Valentine

[Jenny Leigh]

Very different from what I'm use to reading of yours. But very sweet story.

[Adrienne Richardson]

I loved it. Very lovely story!!

[Stanley R. Teater]

Thank you. It's a bit different from my usual stuff.

[Adrienne Richardson]

Well it is very good. I write romance and fiction and it was heart melting its amazing how even a short story can move a persons soul you know.