Not Enough Petals

Vincent, post-teenage insomniac has the love of his life right in front of him. does she see him?

 

Today is just another day in the semi-sunny city of Angels. The sun is battling to make its way through the dense layer of smog that the tens of thousands of cars gladly spew out daily. It is such a cold city, not in climate, but in emotion. Nobody ever says hello anymore. People keep their heads down while scurrying along to their various destinations. The subways, trains, and busses are filled only with the noises of traffic, coughing, and I Pods. It is 5:52am and some people are starting to wake up and begin their day. That isn’t the case for 21 year old Vincent Moretti; no, Vincent has yet to go to sleep. He has not slept in three days as a matter of fact, but sometimes in mid-day you can catch him taking little cat naps.

 

BANG BANG BANG

 Perhaps the exquisite sound of Incubus’ “A Certain Shade Of Green” is too loud for Mr. Whatshisface because he’s banging on the wall again. “F**k dude, I can barely hear the s**t myself, chill the f**k out!” Vince growls out as he pounds his oversized paw to the wall in the exact spot where Whatshisface did. He then turns the computer speakers down a bit. The man should consider himself lucky that the seven inches of drywall separate them because there's no doubt that Vince could crush his skull with no more than a half of a swing.

            There's an annoying ringing emitting from the telephone, Vince motions himself towards the phone with a hesitant hand. He has never been a big phone person, in fact; the only person he can tolerate for more than 10 minutes is Mallory. So he reluctantly picks up the phone (it would be way easier of a decision to make if he had caller ID like the rest of the world) but to his delightment it’s Mallory!        

 

Hello…? Vince states in a monotone.

Hi, can I speak to the sexiest guy in the world replies Mallory in her bright, bubbly voice.

Aww im sorry, he’s not in right now.

Shut up you dork! What are you doing?

Vince lets out an over the top fake yawn and states; you just woke me up to call me a dork? You jerk!

OMG, I did? Im so sorry! Go back to sleep Mallory says with an innocent concern in her now worried voice.

Hahaha HAHAHA.

Vince! I HATE it when you do that to me!

I know, I know, im sorry, so what’s up babe?

My mom is making me take Isaac to karate.

How cute, you get to drive the SoccerMomMobile!

Yeah yeah yeah, but if im going down im taking you with me; so you better be ready in two hours or im going to beat you!

Gosh I love you too Mal Pal, Vince blurts in a total sarcastic tone.

 Haha so you’ll go with me?

No, Vince jokingly replies.

Vincenttttttt…

Im kidding you loser.

Good, you better be. Ill pick you up at 8, BE READY!

Vince makes a kissing sound; MUUUUUAH

CLICK

 

            6:00am, a perfect time for a little nap. Vince curls up next to Mr. Bear; an old Carebear his godmother gave to him when he was about a year old, then dozes off into a synthetic trance. His eyes are wide open as soon as he reaches a fully horizontal position; he is more awake than when he was sitting down. He tries to shut his eyes but the violent images of an enraged woman flash through his head like a sonic boom across a war stricken battle land. To make a tragic story short, Vince’s mother used to abuse him, not only physically, but mentally and emotionally. It was so traumatic to him that he has never had a true night of sleep since he was four years old.

So there is our tourtured hero Vince, battling his sleeping terrors, battling the chain wielding psychopath of a mother with every flicker of an eyelid. Finally, like a miracle granted straight from God’s very own printing press, Vince is granted rights into the subconscious realm of sleep.

 

            Honk….HONKKKKKKKKKKK!

            BANG BANG BANG

            He should have known it was too good to be true, the sleep was stolen from him once again, and he got just enough to tease him. Mallory is at the door and she’s going to be pissed! So Vince hops up and scurries around looking for the cleanest shirt he can find. F**K! He shouts. He can only find the one that’s too small for him now. NO TIME, he throws it on knowing he’ll be self-conscious the whole time he’s out, tucking his shirt down to make sure he doesn’t expose his midsection.

 

I gave you TWO hours and THIS is how you look? You seriously look like you were in your boxers like thirty seconds ago Mallory says in the most frustrated tone she could muster up.

What’s wrong is my hair okay? Vince raises both hands to his head poofing out his over-the-top fro in a Fonzy kind of way. But yeah, I kind of just dosed off…

Yeah f*****g right… fool me once, shame on me… fool me twice… shame on me? Buh Buh…but fool me a third… BLAH! You know what I mean! Mallory grabs her head.

Vince has a certain way to playfully frustrate Mallory like no one else on this earth.

Haha I love you Mal. Vince let the words carelessly slip out of his tongue like a blabber mouth twelve year old girl at a sleepover. He didn’t bother to tell her that he wasn’t lying; he just didn’t want to make her feel awkward at all.

Isaac is going to get restless, get in the van monkey man.

No, no you did NOT… rhyming is MY thing! Jerk! Vince said as he made his way towards the butt a*s ugly Astrovan.

 

            Vince kept Mallory company for the time at the karate dojo. Seven year olds shouting out AYAHH must really not be her thing but Vince found it amusing. Especially when he’d get to see some little smart a*s get kicked right in the jaw and start crying. The whole time at the adolescent packed dojo Vince found himself admiring Mallory like some rich, snobby art freak would a rare and vibrant Monet’. He wondered how it was possible to fit so much beauty into a mere five foot frame. Her golden blonde locks only accentuated her lovely face even more. It simply is just not fair to other girls. There should be limitations set on how amazingly stunning a girl is aloud to look, but Mallory; she had a tendency to brake such rules either way.

 

Vince sits down at his computer, opens up Microsoft Word and just sits there typing and erasing the same message over and over again.

I really don't know exactly how to say this. I know it may come as a really big shock to you, but for the longest time I have not been able to remove you from my mind. I know you have been there for me ever since we were kids, and I know that you and we will always be around for each other, but for the longest time I have not been able to cease the bold image of you dancing around in my head. I think I might love you as something more than a friend and it is starting to scare me. I don't think you feel the same way. I think you can do way better than me. You’re so beautiful, and me… well im just this oversized beast with the bloody useless heart of a poet. I don't deserve you and I know it. I just can’t get you out of my head. When I see you I just want to place my hands on either side of your face, look right into those beautiful blue eyes and gently kiss you. I find myself starring at your lips wondering what kind of mysteries might be hidden behind them. I think about the language our twisted bodies might speak to each other in the privacy of our own secluded world. I think I love you Mallory…F**K I can’t do this!

 

Vince couldn’t take the mental beating he was giving himself so he breaks character and picks up the cord-bound phone from off the floor of his room and dials Samuel Knox’s number. Sam is laid out in his beanbag chair, alone, throwing a baseball into the air out of sheer boredom. He hears “I LIKE BIG BUTTS AND I CANNOT LIE” and reaches for his cell phone.

 

Hey Sam, what’s going on man?

Nothing much, what’s up bro, what do you need?

Dude, its Mal Vince said sounding like an annoying broken record.

F**k Vince, not this crap again, stop being such a p***y and tell her already! You know she loves you! Im sick of you complaining about all these jerks and a******s that treat her like s**t. When are you going to own up to your feelings and be the guy you keep telling me she needs and deserves? Are you going to stand in her shadow your entire life dude, or are you going to be Vincent Moretti, the guy who gets the girl! Not Vince M, the hopeless romantic who hid behind his insecurities and died all alone.

Sam Rocked Vince straight to very core with those words, jarring his brain into a state of shock and awe at the same time.

             Damn Sam do you always have to be that brutal; Vince stated in vein protest.                                        People like you need to hear it straight up and blunt! If I tip toed around you then you’d just second guess yourself until kingdom come; stated Sam, his words still sounding like they came straight out of a Wednesday night drama television program.

Haha, you and I are two totally different people Sam. I wish I could be as confident and suave as you, but Im not the one equipped with the body that’s desirable at all or the confidence to speak my mind. And as for second guessing myself…yeah, it’s the only way I know for sure I’ve made the right decision.       

So you’re totally content living your life as one big indecision? Interjected Sam.                   It’s easy for you to say that. I have all these setbacks; I wouldn’t even know what to say to her.

Well, do you love her? Asked Sam.

Well… y—

Rhetorical question dipshit! Sam riffled, cutting Vince off before he could finish. Of course you f*****g love her dude! She’s Mallory-F*****g-Evans; she’s the only girl you’ve ever looked at with intent in your whole life.

Vince could take no more of Sam’s brutal honesty; ill talk to you later dude, I’ve got a lot of thinking to do.

Damn Vince, all you do is think don't you?

Later dude, Vince stated in total admission of defeat.

 

Vince is lying on his musty carpet and dwells over Sam’s razor edged remarks. It is so odd how someone so clueless to the world can be so on target with someone’s personal life. Sam’s got that innate ability to tell people what needs to be told; to say what people try to say in the subtext of what their really saying.

After a few hours of idol dwelling Vince finally knew that he had to tell Mallory how he really felt. If he didn’t then he would be denying himself the love of his life. That simply was not an option for him anymore.

Vince decided he was no longer going to be Vince M, the guy who hid behind his insecurities his whole life. He was going to be Vincent Moretti, the guy who gets the girl. He meticulously riffles through every cabinet in his room. He did not want to pick out a shirt that had a silly memory attached to it, like his black Dashboard Confessional shirt with the puncture in it from when Mallory’s little brother innocently shoved a pencil through it. They laughed forever the night that happened; it was a brand new shirt. He couldn’t wear the dressy blue one with the missing button either. That was the shirt that got mustard spilled on it the night Vince and Mallory were eating and Vince saw this gorgeous girl walk by; only for her to notice the big yellow glob of embarrassment on his chest. Finally Vince picked out the red Incubus shirt, it was the shirt he wore the day Mallory found out about her father’s illness. She cried on that shirt for hours that day. She literally left a puddle of tears on the left side of it. It was the perfect choice. Vince stands in front of the tall sliding glass mirror and mumbles to himself what he is going to say to Mallory. His monologue lasts a good twenty minutes before he gut checks himself and heads for the door.

The walk to Mallory’s house is the longest three blocks in Vince’s life. He has never seen so much life spring out past midnight before, and he should know. He has made this trip hundreds of thousands of times before but the scenery has never been as beautifully pulchritudinous as it was at this very moment. A slight spark breaks the darkness, a slow flame emits from the entry point then disappears. Shadows dance hand in hand as random streams of grey smoke tangle in the still wind; Vince looks around in total awe of everything he is seeing for what feels like the first time. Mrs. Crazycatlady’s pomegranate tree never smelled this fresh before and the light wafting aroma of roses never made such an impact as they did here and now. Vince counts off the remaining steps it will take to get to Mallory’s house. He knows from experience that it’s roughly seventy-four. Vince picks a daisy from Mrs. Beehivehair’s lawn and twirls it slowly in his hand. He refrains for a moment, but ultimately succumbs to childish behavior and starts picking off petals one by one. She loves me, she loves me not, she loves me, she loves me not… after plucking four petals Vince starts thinking about math. About how there is a set number of petals in a daisy and it wouldn’t be fair to base such an immensely powerful emotion as love on a mathematical statistic. He smells the partially decapitated daisy once more and lays it in the grass of Mr. Baldguywhocheatsonhiswife’s lawn. Finally he arrives; seven forty-two Ridgecrest Avenue. Vince takes one last drag of monoxide and despair and stomps out the now stump of what was once a thin white devil. The time is now, no more hiding.

            Vince knocks on the door six times in rhythmic pattern. There is a slight pause in time and space then Mrs. Evans opens the door with a look of intrigue on her face.

Is everything okay Vincent she inquires.

It was a totally loaded question that would require a multitude of thought out answers that would spring forth new questions, so Vince smiles and states that he is fine.

Really, I was just wondering if Mallory was still up, there's something I kind of need to talk to her about.

Why sure honey, let me go get her for you.

Yet another pause in time and space takes place. Vince can hear the slight pounding of his heart against his chest. The steady flow of air from his nostrils interrupts the wafting aroma of roses. Mallory flows down the stairs and brightens up the unlit porch. She’s got the same beautiful smile on her face that she always has. It never gets old, it never dirties itself, it matches with everything, and it’s the object of Vince’s adoration. Mallory is speaking to Vince, but as always he is momentarily deaf due to her amazingly prime beauty. It takes Vince a few seconds before he can muster up any banter in return. He mumbles out silly little one liners to try to dance around the inevitable. The intense gravity of the impending doom was weighing Vince down to the extent where he thought he might collapse to the ground. Mallory’s vibrant smile turned to a slight look of curiosity and concern.

What’s wrong Vince? Something is different about you…

 Mallory, I’ve wanted to tell you for the very longest… I mean… what im trying to say is… what I mean is… I don't know.

The high Vince had felt looking in the mirror and walking to her house was now plummeting rapidly on a collision course straight into the burning depths of hell. His face sinks and his goofy smile evaporates into the night sky. Mallory stands bewildered by the intense emotion in Vince’s eyes and does the most naturally impulsive thing she can think of and hugs him tightly. Vince places his forehead on her collarbone and silently gasps for air. Vince can not look her in the face, let alone tell her how he feels. He finally builds up the immensely grand amount of courage necessary to continue when out of nowhere the bold sounds of The Doors’ “The End” vibrates throughout the dimly lit street.

 

This is the end, beautiful friend
This is the end, my only friend
The end

Jim Morrison stole all the courage Vince had left and replaced them with grim thoughts of dying alone. He had gone from Vincent Moretti, right back to Vince M.

 

It hurts to set you free
But you'll never follow me
The end of laughter and soft lies
The end of nights we tried to die
This is the end

 

A single tear escaped Vince’s light green eye and flowed like the snake in that song, down his cheek and onto the ground where it made a deafening sound that drowned out the completion of the song. No other song followed, only the silence that was the situation at hand.

Premonitions of tattooed men with unshaven faces flashed through Vince’s brain faster than the beating of his over-working heart. He sees Mallory crying on the steps of an old broken house with a child grasped tightly in her arms. He can see the intense sadness in her baby blue eyes as she rocks the child back and forth telling the small girl that daddy does indeed love them.

Just then a rush of emotion filled Vincent Moretti’s heart. It spilled over into his whole body as he grabbed Mallory’s hand and pulled her closer to him. He caressed her face for a second then placed both hands on the back of her head and neck and sealed everything he wanted to say in a bold display of pure love. The secrets hidden behind her lips told him what they too had been holding back all of those years.

Reviews

[Anthony Garcia]

whew, my first decent short story