Still Life - Tahiti Seymour

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The paint was tearing, the lobby carried a strange odor, the pool was filled with bratty children
and their poorly tanned parents. In the room 205, a flower pot, that holds a gorgeous rose, sits and waits for another family, another story. She sees a couple outside the window, the husband carrying an oversized floaty. The wife wore a fanny pack and holds a map. The wife’s hair was brown and beautiful, the way it cascaded down her back was therapeutic. The husband had old sun glasses, possibly from the 90’s, pushed on top of his head. The heat is turning him pink. The flower feels euphoric but only for a moment and remembers her predicament. She is stuck and unable to see the world for herself. She imagines for a moment the drive to the hotel for the couple. Were there meadows after meadows with flowers like herself or gloomy skies and horribly constructed roads. Her train of thought took her places far beyond this hotel room.
CREEEEK. The couple enter the room and look around, they introduce a new smell to the room and the rose notices the moisture on their skin. The woman turns and sees a tall vase with a rose, strong and tall. She strokes a petal that looked old and brown, little did she know how much that hurts. Like a thousand men pulling on an arm with ninety five percent of their strength. The woman picks it off, like ripping off a bandaid, it stung hard but only for for a little. The only possible cry the rose lets out is a sap that drips down her thorny yet beautiful physique.
“Mary! Where is my bow tie for tonight?” Mary jumps and stubbed her toe on the dresser. She scrambles through her suitcase, then his. “Right here David!” Mary sits on the bed and sighs. She massages her forehead. Mary grabs her curling iron and heads to the bathroom with a beautiful dress on a plastic hanger. David asks her, “Darn it Mary! Where is my bow tie!”
“If you’d  open  your ear hole David, I told you it was right there on the bed.”
David grabs Mary’s hot curling iron and holds it to her throat.
“Excuse me? If you  ever .. talk to me like that again, you won’t like it.”
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The rose spots a tear forming in Mary’s eye. Mary washes her face to hide it. Closes the door and continues to get dressed.
It is 7:00 pm and Mary is finally ready. It was time for her to tell David. Mary murmured, “David?” “Yea, what?”
“I need to tell you something.” Mary’s voice gets higher and her eyes are now red.“I’m pregnant, David...” David briskly walks away and as Mary tries to reach him he starts running, opens the door and leaves the room.
“DAVID!” Mary is now sitting on the bed covered in tears. She takes out a balloon that had held confetti for the gender of the baby. She pops it with a safety pin and screams, “GOOD RIDDANCE!”
Hours seemed like minutes and Mary sits on the bed in a burgundy robe. Her curls fading and mascara running. She takes a second to look at the old fashioned alarm clock and notices that it is already one in the morning. The citizens of her soul run rampant inside her. They tie knots with her organs and jump on her heart. Mary flies up when the door swings open. There is David, bottle in hand, intoxicated, and his lips locked on another woman’s. The woman wears a short white dress bedazzled in diamonds and sequins. Mary chokes on her perfume. The woman realizes Mary’s presence and stops takes her mouth off of David’s. Mary is still, her face white. She whispers, “get out.” David then responds with, “I can’t hear you princess!”
“GET OUT! Get out of my mind! Get out of my life! Get out of my heart.... I don’t ever want to see you again, you no longer mean  anything to me. I HATE YOU!” The woman that was with David runs and leaves the room. David’s mouth moves but no words follow. Mary violently picks up his suitcase and throws it out the window and into the pool. Mary stomps to the bathroom, grabs her curling iron and hits him in the face. A red mark prints on his face and he runs.
Mary stands there, breathing deep and hard. She clears her throat, fixes her robe and gets comfortable on the bed. She sits there shaking. Her nose begins to flare and her mouth opens to let out a cry, her whole body jerking for every sob. Where the petal was picked on the rose, sap drips because the rose feels Mary’s pain, no story had ever been like hers. The rose asked herself, if the life she’s been
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living was as cursed as she thought, the answer was a definite no. The rose could imagine the sting that Mary is feeling and wishes to make her smile. A new petal grows on the rose right before Mary’s eyes, she sits amazed. Mary’s tears dry, she lets out a chuckle then another. It then turns into an uncontrollable laugh. Mary slowly gets up, the bed making a loud creek. Her feet receiving a cold sensation, she picks up the flower pot that held the rose. Mary brings it closer to her face and whispers, “You were placed here for a human’s desire, but we never thought about yours.” Mary’s head turns to face the door, and fixes the flower pot in her arms so she cradles it. The sensation in her feet raise the hairs on her arms. Mary opens the door and makes her way to the elevator. The elevator had only six buttons and Mary pressed L. Mary exits the elevator and then walks through the silent lobby. So silent that it created a powerful scream. Mary stands in front of the hotel exit where the sliding doors opened almost too quickly. The road had little cars on it... Mary crossed. Across the road was a patch full of roses. The rose in the pot was jumping for joy on the inside. Mary places the rose right beside another and laid down right beside her. The grass was comforting, as well as the night air. Mary’s eyes droop and her stomach churns. She falls, in a wonderful pool of sleep.






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