Of Rose Bushes, Death, & Subway Veterans | Teen Ink

Of Rose Bushes, Death, & Subway Veterans

February 14, 2020
By RayRae PLATINUM, Omaha, Nebraska
RayRae PLATINUM, Omaha, Nebraska
26 articles 1 photo 5 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Imagination is the only weapon in the war against reality." ~ Lewis Carroll's Cheshire Cat



It was the first day of summer, but he didn’t celebrate. The teenager had a different idea than his peers. With depression and the bullies’ urging, he’d wanted to… depart from earth for years now, but he’d never attempted. He had clung to the belief that life would become better - that it was worth it. He didn’t understand why he ever could’ve thought that. It was so foolish. He gripped the paper in his hand tighter - the one informing him he had been held back from proceeding to the next grade. It was the biggest humiliation he’d ever faced, and the straw that broke the camel’s back. He blamed this on those bullies - they always destroyed his homework right before class. 

Fortunately, after today, it wouldn’t matter. He hoped his attempt to escape would be successful. It seemed like it was time. The universe must agree with his actions for once, because he had gotten lucky. There was no one in the worn subway car (which reeked of mildew and multiple smells he did not want to distinguish) other than himself. No one was there to question why a 14 year old boy was out so late. No one was there to stop him. It was perfect in every possible way. 

Perhaps, too perfect, because at the moment he thought that it was, the subway stopped. A man with a shriveled, almost sickly face and a black cane made his way into the car. The man wobbled over with his cane and slowly sat in the seat next to the boy. The subway began to move once again. The man’s watch could be heard ticking slowly as the boy stared at his hands and his eyes began to stare off into space. 

“Ya eyes look a whole lot like one of ‘em soldiers’, boy.”

The teenager jolted at the voice of the man, “What?”

The man smacked his lips, “Ya look like ‘em soldiers. The ones that went to ‘em front lines.”

“O-ok?” The boy shifted.

“It’s not ok.” The man declared, waving his cane and arms in the air - suddenly animated, “No boy your age should have the eyes of ‘em soldiers. Mah Leslie looked like that, too. The day she found out she had cancer…. Ya got cancer boy?”

“What? No!” 

“Then why are ya dyin’?”

The boy froze, before replying stiffly, “That’s none of your business.” 

“Hmph! Fair enough, fair enough.” The man huffed. The silence returned for a moment before the man spoke again, softer this time, “Mah Leslie was a kind, real hardworkin’ woman. She had a rose bush. Said it was somethin’ special. She always loved that rose bush. Worked real hard to keep it alive and gave some of the roses to the kids in the neighborhood. Was real sad, because she couldn’t tend to it no more when they put her on bedrest. Probably was more sad when it died than when she found out she would.” He let out a sad, bitter laugh, “Always had her own priorities, but she was an amazing woman. She really knew how to cheer ‘em all up. Wish she was here to ‘elp ya. She’d know ‘xactly whatta do.”

“I didn’t ask for-”

“Back, when she would tend to the soldiers, she’d always ‘elp ‘em. Those eyes would stop dyin’ for just a bit even if they were dyin’ themselves.” The elderly man plowed on as if the boy had not spoken, “When I met her as a young soldier in the military, I knew she was the one. The other soldiers - the ones without ‘em dyin’ eyes - they teased mah a whole lot, but I was right. Mah Leslie was mah gal til the end.” 

“What are you trying to say sir?”

The man looked at the boy, suddenly appearing wise, “Life is real special, boy. Ya got people out there for ya. Don’t die til ya have tah.” 

“Sir, I’m not-”

“Yes, ya are! Don’t try to fool mah! From the look of it ya’ve been dyin’ for awhile, but, boy, ya got a future! Ya just gotta take ‘em first steps.”

The subway’s brakes squealed, “Well…  ‘ere’s mah stop. Ya think about wha’ I said, boy.” The elderly veteran stood up, grabbing his cane. 

“Wait -” 

“Think abou’ it.” 

Then he hobbled out. The boy sat silently until the next stop - an older part of the city. It was unlikely anyone would be there to stop him. He lifted his baggage, and lugged it out of the subway. The crowbar in the bag was heavy. It seemed as if it only got heavier as he walked around the city, looking for an abandoned building. He panted when he finally found one. He took out his crowbar and used it to pry open the door. He ventured into the large building, walking up numerous flights of stairs, barely managing to keep his crowbar in his hand. When he reached the padlocked roof access doors, he took the crowbar, and swung it three times. It snapped. He walked out into the moon-lit roof. 

A grim expression crossed his face as he glanced down from his place atop the old building. The open stairwell behind him creaked in the wind. His hair danced in the breeze as he shivered. Though, soon, it wouldn’t matter. He swallowed, taking off his shoes and stuffing the note and the fateful papers inside. He swallowed. This was it. It would all be over soon - the pain, joy, tears, and laughter. All he needed was to proceed. As he stepped over the railing, he noticed a bush with peculiar red mounds growing outside a shop below him. It was illuminated by the street lights near the plant, and he took a moment to realize what it was. The teenager saw a large sign that said the rose bush was for sale, and he couldn’t help but wonder why someone would give up something so beautiful - even if it had some thorns. 


The author's comments:

As someone with mental illness, it's important for me to remember that life has highs and lows. Everyone struggles with life sometimes, but in the end, it's worth it. There are people who care about you, amazing adventures to be had, and moments to be cherished. This story is about the highs, lows and a will (or lack thereof) to live. 


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