Monday, 1 May 2006

By any other name

I crossed the road to unlock my bike last night after a restaurant visit and saw that someone had left a single red rose in the spokes.

Not an expensive one; the kind sold by street vendors from a bucket to drunken couples. It was still wrapped in its cellophane stapled together with a single staple.
...would smell as sweet
I had been out for a bite to eat with a few friends, and because it was on the way home from J's office where he was working late, he called me as he was leaving to ask if I wanted him to walk me home.

Now when J's feeling down, as is the case at the moment, he never usually feels like talking to people, especially not people he doesn't know.

Even at good times he gets quite nervous around groups of people; at parties you can usually find him in the garden trying to catch his breath.

So we arranged on the phone that he'd phone me when he was outside.

Unusually, thought, he made an extra effort when he got there, and actually came inside to talk to people before we left.

So when I came outside and saw the flower, I naturally assumed it was a sweet gesture from him.

I tucked the flower away in my bag and caught up with J, who had proceeded on foot down the street with another girl who was going in the same direction as us.

When she'd left, I asked him about the flower.

I didn't leave you a flower, he said, and by the genuine expression of pain on his face (ie. guilt for not having thought of doing that) I could tell he was being serious.

So the mystery remains... Who left the rose on the bike?

It's even a man's bike, which largely eliminates the idea of it being some kind of eccentric man going around making romantic gestures to strange women.

For some reason I can't imagine it was left there by a girl... But maybe I'm being sexist?

If you, the rose leaver, read this, then thanks. The rose is now happily sitting in a plastic bottle on top of my stereo.

Or, less encouragingly, do I have new stalker?

With J and I, things are still tough. We had a long talk yesterday which managed not to end with one of us in tears, but it's obvious to me that things can't go on like this without one of us (or both) losing the plot completely.

His GP told him to keep a diary for three weeks, but the wait list for therapy is 4-6 months. He'll probably go private instead. It's just a relief to know that something is being done.

1 comment:

  1. Sorry things are tough, and I hope it gets a bit easier for J... hang in there.

    I can't believe I got the right bike :-)


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