Lilacs in Bloom Pt. 01

Lilacs in Bloom - Part 1

For each fallen petal, a seed grows anew,

And it takes a little rain for the lilacs to bloom.

The clouds weigh heavy as sky prepares to weep;

A summer glow follows the release.

Winter returns, guided by autumn;

Darkness arrives from an endless bottom.

Then the heart calls out, suddenly aching,

And the lilacs bloom for another taking.

***

Everything began with the death of Amy Murray, wife of Samuel Murray, former businesswoman, piano player, tennis enthusiast, friend of wealthy housewives, and victim of cancer.

Samuel Murray, frequently called Sam, watched the funeral attendees converse with each other quietly as her coffin was lowered into the ground. It was late June, though the air had the heat of mid-August, and the sun shone bright overhead in the cloudless blue sky. Many people had shown up- all friends and family of Amy. Sam was an only child with both parents no longer alive, and with little other family and even less friends of his own. He found it difficult to interact with all of these people, many of whom he hardly knew, none of whom he supposed he had a relationship with. With Amy, he had been part of a crowd that he would have otherwise been alienated from. He sensed that he would never talk to most of these people ever again.

Sometimes they came up to him to give their condolences. He thanked them but never held a conversation. His desire to be left alone was evident to everyone.

He resented himself, on and off. Even with more than enough money at his disposal, it still wasn't enough to save Amy. But even if he had saved her life, he couldn't have saved their love.

A bird fluttered overhead and landed in a tree less than twenty yards behind him. It was a cardinal, its redness standing out in bright contrast to the emerald leaves. Sam watched it for a while, mentally absent from the wrap-up of the funeral. Another cardinal hopped along the branch into view. The pair danced around each other before flying off.

There was a child talking. Sam searched for it and saw a small boy from a distance, likely about seven years old, nearly hidden behind several pairs of legs. His heart ached even more now, not just for Amy but for what he sacrificed for her...

His legs wanted to give out. He would fall to the ground, next to where she lay. But he was strong- always had been. He would persevere.

Several more people made small talk with him. When they were finished, Sam left.

Once in the car he loosened his tie and sank into his seat with a deep sigh. What now? He had nothing to drive him anymore, no goals, no motivation. Just working out and working on projects.

It was time for a drink.

He drove. No music filled the car, nor did the clock receive a glance. He arrived at a popular local spot just outside of town: Russo's, known for its pizza and bar. Sam parked and headed inside without much thought.

Not many pizza restaurants in town were busy at two o'clock on a Saturday, Russo's included. Sam was one of three patrons; two older men sat at a booth, deep in conversation. Sam went straight to the counter and plopped on a stool.

A blonde woman wearing a flour-covered apron walked out of the attached kitchen and threw a small towel on the counter by the register. He had seen her before on occasion, as he had come here for pizza many times. She smiled at Sam briefly before removing her apron, hanging it on a hook by the passage. Underneath she wore a black blouse with a hint of more flour. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, and when she let it free it fell all the way down to the small of her back.

"How can I help you?" she asked him. Her voice was soothing and sincere.

"Whiskey, please. Neat."

"Coming up."

While she did her job, Sam closed his eyes and listened to the news coming from the television. Something about a new hotel that was just completed downtown, then something about politics. He lost interest.

The server returned with his whiskey. "Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome." He felt her eyes on him for a moment. "Have I seen you around here?"

"It's been a while- a few months."

"Hm. I feel like I just saw you this week."

"Maybe on the news. My wife just, uh, died."

"Oh my god... I'm so, so sorry." She was at a loss of words but did not leave him, clearly wanting to say something else.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I didn't mean to be so blunt."

"No, no. Please." She looked at him with concern. "Samuel Murray, right?"

"Yeah. Sam."

"Sam. Nice to officially meet you, in spite of the circumstances."

"You too... Miss?"

"Stephanie Russo. My mother and I own the place."

"You think you could get me another whiskey?" he asked her, having finished his. She nodded and soon returned with another.

"Do you want to talk?" she asked him. "I mean, I understand if you don't... hell, I don't even know you, but... you know, sometimes it helps."

Sam said nothing. He wasn't used to people talking to him like this. Instead, he just looked at the TV, his eyes glazed.

"I'll take that as a no. Well, let me know if you need anything, okay?"

Sam nodded before taking another drink. Stephanie was nice, and he considered talking... but God, he felt awful. It was only what, two-fifteen, and it felt like nine? He stood up abruptly and made his way back to the car.

Once home, the rest of the day was spent in bed. As the night arrived, he fell asleep from exhaustion. It had been a long several months.

***

Four months ago, during the first week of February, Amy's cancer had reached stage four. They had just gotten home from the hospital, and the only thing Sam would really remember afterwards, which would stick with him for a long time, was one of the most heated arguments they had ever had. It was about something that they couldn't change.

Early in their marriage, Amy had convinced Sam to get a vasectomy. Though he had always pictured himself having kids, he was young and madly in love- blinded by it. Sex with Amy was more than good, and without the possibility of children it relieved stress and added a lot of pleasure. A short-term satisfaction.

Then she became frail and began losing her life. She and Sam still had sex, but it was different. They knew she was going to die, and Sam knew he had lost his reproductive ability. His chance at rebuilding life after Amy was gone had been severely distorted. They didn't have children together to continue her line. He couldn't have children with another woman to continue his own line. He felt like an abomination, and he told Amy this.

Amy, frail and losing her life, did not like hearing this just after hearing that she had stage four cancer.

Thus, an argument ensued. It was the one argument that wasn't made up with sex, the one argument where Sam and Amy ended up sleeping in different rooms that night. They later gave apologies, but it was never the same. Life was now all about giving Amy what she wanted until she was gone. Even sex, at the end, felt like an obligation, sometimes almost like mourning. It wasn't her fault, and he always knew that. They were both victims of the circumstances.

But now Sam was filled with regret. Not angry regret, not necessarily, but the regret that makes it both difficult to fall asleep and difficult to get out of bed.

***

Nearly three weeks after meeting Samuel Murray, Stephanie sat in the manager's office of Russo's. She preferred the quieter days, like today, where families or college students occasionally came in to get a couple of pizzas and head back to wherever they came from.

Her boyfriend, Adam, had just stopped by to say hello during his lunch. He was sweet, but didn't have anything going for him; she wasn't sure she saw a future with him, but you never really know, you know?

"Stephanie," called her mother from down the hall, "your friends are here to see you."

Stephanie stood up and patted herself somewhat clean before leaving her office. In the hallway stood her mother Lucia, a sixty-year-old Italian woman with a lingering accent and firm but affectionate presence. Stephanie smiled in appreciation and gave her a pat as she passed her. The front had gone from zero occupants to three; lined at the counter were Stephanie's three best friends.

First was Kim Collins, looking ten years younger than her actual age of forty-two. Her distinct light and wavy blonde hair fell just past her jawline and complimented her white and orange sundress. A pair of gold hoops snuck out of her hair by each cheek, and her purse was just about the fiftieth Stephanie had seen her use this month.

Second was Nicole Hennigan, showing a slight smile that was sincere but carried the weight of single motherhood. The other three were always jealous of her hair, which was a natural dark chocolate color and naturally appeared straightened. She brushed a strand of it out of her face and sighed lightly.

Third was Emily Brown, the one that was always making them laugh and who was never afraid to be herself. She was well known in the community for her very strawberry blonde hair, and today it was tied back into a loose ponytail. Her shirt showed no cleavage, which was rare, though it did have a greenish-brown paint stain around the ribcage. She had a few small tattoos on her forearms: a flowering vine on her left and several miscellaneous inklings on her right.

"Hey girls!" greeted Stephanie. They returned it with the same enthusiasm. She pulled out four glasses and filled them each with water.

"Slow day?" Nicole asked.

"You know it," said Stephanie. "Where are the kids?"

"With the sitter. Thank God she didn't ask for a raise after last week." Nicole sipped her water and shook her head. "Those kids have way too much energy."

"How about Nick?" Stephanie asked Kim.

"At a friend's house. They've been enjoying their summer break by staying indoors and playing video games."

They all chuckled. "You remember how boys are at that age," said Emily. "Always doing whatever you don't want them to do."

"It's not that he's playing video games that bothers me, it's just... why doesn't he do anything else!"

The conversation was interrupted by the opening of the front door. In walked a tall, fit man with short, brown hair and a thin beard. He made eye contact with Stephanie and smiled but didn't approach the women. Instead, he looked around at the décor; pictures of famous patrons, local artists that performed out back, pieces of art that Lucia used to collect, and so on.

"Who's that cutie?" asked Emily, licking her lips.

"That's Samuel Murray," said Stephanie in a hushed voice. "He came in a few weeks ago for some drinks... just after his wife had passed away."

After a group sympathetic sigh and a moment of silence, Nicole and Emily spoke simultaneously. Nicole said "Poor guy" with a pout, while Emily said "So he's single?"

Sam approached the women. He nodded and smiled politely to the three he had never met and looked at Stephanie. "Hello," he said.

"Hi Sam! How have you been?"

"Oh, I'm doing okay. I've been better, but it'll still take some time before I'm back on my feet, so to speak. How are you?"

"I'm doing well! Just having a conversation with my friends. This is Kim, Nicole, and Emily." She gestured to the other women, who did a combination of smiling and waving and blushing.

"Nice to meet you all," said Sam. They're all incredibly pretty, he thought, captivated by them immediately.

"Can I get you anything?" Stephanie asked.

"Yeah, one medium pepperoni pizza please."

They completed the transaction rather quickly, and she told him it would be about twenty minutes if he didn't mind waiting. He went outside.

"Sam?" asked Kim. "I thought he was Samuel?"

"He better have told you to call him that," said Emily. "Otherwise, you're really shooting for it."

Stephanie shrugged but reddened slightly. "He told me to call him Sam. And I'm not shooting for it, I'm not single."

"Well, we are," said Emily, looking at Nicole. "You gonna go for it?"

"I don't think I have the time to be dating right now," said Nicole. She did, however, turn to look at Sam through the window. He was sitting on a bench near the edge of the sidewalk, one leg crossed over the other. Nicole smiled and looked at the ground, lost in thought.

"His wife just passed away," said Stephanie. "Don't take advantage of him. He could be a really sweet guy in a fragile state."

"Do I know him from somewhere?" asked Kim.

"He's wealthy and he and his wife were very active with charities," said Stephanie. "I don't know exactly where his fortune came from, but I think it had to do with computers."

"Ah, so he's smart?" Emily supposed.

"You know why we don't have any guy friends?" Nicole asked her. "Because you always sleep with them and then chase them away."

"So?"

"So why don't we get to know the guy?" Nicole looked around at them. "He's here by himself on a Wednesday afternoon ordering a pizza. He's clearly lonely."

"Or hungry," noted Emily.

"Or both," added Kim.

"What are we gonna do, just ask him to stay and talk?" asked Stephanie. "That's a little weird, don't you think? We don't even know him."

"So, we get to know him. And if he's cool, we think of other things we can do with him," said Nicole.

Emily smirked but shrugged when they looked at her. Kim also shrugged, and Stephanie nodded. "I'll admit, he is very cute."

"You can't call that cute," said Emily, sizing him up through the glass. "He's too big to be cute. He's hot as hell! Has it been twenty minutes yet?"

"Uh... no."

Emily stood up and hurried to the door. She said something to Sam, who looked at her and considered it for a moment, then nodded and reentered the building. He followed Emily back to the counter and sat near the women.

They all looked at him for a moment, studying his features. His brown hair, though short, had been puffed up by the wind during his time outside. His cheek bones and jaw were just chiseled enough to be noticeable, and his short beard was slightly unkempt but appealing. He wore a t-shirt and cargo shorts, and though the shirt wasn't tight it was easy to tell that there was muscle underneath. He looked like a man that was gentle unless provoked, and powerful if needed.

"So," he said awkwardly, uneased by their stares, he opened his mouth to continue, but seemed at a loss for words.

"Tell us about yourself, Samuel," said Nicole. They all looked at him eagerly.

"You can all call me Sam," he said with a warm smile. "I'm a freelance computer programmer. I essentially work private contracts or individual requests on an inconsistent basis." The women shared impressed looks. "It's not that exciting," he added with a chuckle.

"You must do well then, working with computers," said Emily. Sam nodded humbly and they sensed that money wasn't a topic for today.

"Do you have any hobbies?" asked Stephanie. "How do you fill your time between contracts?"

He tried not to think of this as an interrogation. "I usually workout in my gym or work on a home project of some sort. Maybe watch TV in sweatpants, I dunno."

They chuckled, all with their own distinct sexiness. Sam's heart fluttered a little.

"If you're good with tools, maybe you can help me with my sink?" asked Emily. "I live in an apartment with horrible maintenance, and I haven't been able to get someone to take a look at it."

"Uh, sure, I can help. What's the issue?"

"Weird faucet and clogged drain."

"Ok. What's a good time for you?"

"Really anytime. I work on my own schedule too."

"Emily's an artist," added Kim. Emily nodded while looking at Sam.

"That's cool! What kind of stuff do you do?" he asked.

"Mostly painting." She pointed at the stain below her breast with a grin. "But all sorts of things- drawing, sculpting, or whatever else I think of."

Sam's eyes lingered on her shirt. "Very nice, I'm excited to see your work when I stop by!"

Emily looked at the other women with eyes of victory, to which Nicole cleared her throat and Stephanie rolled her eyes.

"Well, I should probably get going," sighed Nicole. "I have to relieve the sitter of my children."

"You have kids?" he asked. "How many?"

"Two," she said with a lightened expression, grateful that she was receiving some attention. "A six-year-old son and four-year-old daughter. If you like entertaining kids, you're always welcome to come by and keep them occupied."

"I love kids, and I'd love to meet them! Do any of the rest of you have kids?"

Emily shook her head, but the other two nodded. Kim answered first. "I have a son, Nick, eleven."

Stephanie smiled. She already knew from these small interactions that Sam was a great guy. "My daughter Lauren is nineteen. She works here too, when she's not at college."

Sam smiled at them all. "I can't wait to meet them. Does Lauren have a field of study?"

"Actually, yeah, she's interested in computer science."

"Hey, that's great! If she ever needs a tutor or connection, I'd be happy to help."

Stephanie was a little shocked now- he was still a stranger, yet he was being so nice! "Okay!" she said joyfully.

"Well, I should get going too," said Kim. "I have to get groceries."

"I'll come, I'm bored," said Emily. "Here's my number." She snagged a crumpled-up receipt from near the register and wrote it down for Sam. "Shoot me a text when you're free this week and I'll let you in to look at my sink. I'll pay you."

"No need," he said, "but will do!"

Everyone headed out except for Sam and Stephanie. Lucia brought the pizza over. "Hot, hot!" she cried.

"So, you're really doing alright?" asked Stephanie as she gathered some napkins and slipped a cup of sauce into the cardboard.

"Yeah, it's a little complicated, but I'm alright. Life goes on." He raised his pizza box slightly towards her. "It was nice chatting with you all. I'll see you around!"

"Bye, Sam!"

He left too, and Stephanie suddenly felt very alone. She found herself craving Sam's presence, wishing she had made the excuse that she needed help with her sink or her computer or something. Maybe she could convince Lauren that she needed a tutor, and then he'd have to come over...

"Everything okay?" Lucia asked. Stephanie nodded and gave her a brief hug before returning to her office.

***

Sam didn't live too far from Emily, which he found out the next day after they had texted back and forth a bit. It took him less than ten minutes to drive to her apartment. It was a complex of multiple buildings, each three or four stories. Emily buzzed him in through the gate, and he drove around the whole place once until he found her building.

He had brought a tool kit, unsure what exactly he would need for the sink. He didn't expect to stay for very long, though he was genuinely interested in seeing her artwork. He had only met high end professional artists at some social events, and none quite like Emily. There was something about her that was appealing; she seemed progressive and outgoing and was certainly beautiful.

It didn't pain him as much as he thought he would to be thinking about other women in a physical manner. His love for Amy had died some time before she did- he wasn't sure exactly when- and though he had never thought of cheating, he had always imagined life without her. Not that he had hoped for them to separate, let alone for her to die. He supposed he simply liked to fantasize. Now he had the opportunity to change his life for the better, albeit under difficult circumstances.

He made his way to the fourth floor of the building and knocked on one of the two doors in the short hall. Emily opened it a moment later. "Hi Sam!"

"Hi Emily." He tried not to let his eyes linger on her loose tank top, which did little to cover her body. Her strawberry hair was loose today, spilling behind her shoulders and onto her upper back. Her fingernail color was unconventional: a display of vocational evidence but otherwise no polish.