Jack’s gone and Linda entered Rose’s bedroom and saw her lying face down.
‘Hey beautiful, happy b… Rose… Are you crying? What’s the matter?’
She turned her face up and saw the slap mark. Linda went ballistic instantly, ‘It’s your birthday today, for crying out loud. And look what present you got. And these’, She points at roses on the ground, ‘I can tell the story just by looking at them. Peter gave these to you and that Jack crushed them. Correct me if I am wrong.’
She sat on the bed beside her and yelled, ‘On your birthday!’
The day following Rose’s birthday, sitting in his rocking chair staring at the ceiling, Peter was still musing over Rose’s coldness the day before.
‘O Rose! Must you be so cruel to me? Do you not want to be happy, to be loved? The more I want you, the more you… seem to… to get away from me. My life is so… empty without you. When you are not around, it’s like…nobody’s home…’
‘That Jack…’ He sounded angry and got up from the chair, his eyes red with resolve. Something had been building up in him for months, and apparently it all came to a head now.
Peter’s entered the room. Linda was already there. She didn’t appear very happy.
‘Hey Linda, I thought Jack was going to be here.’
‘Jack’s gone, Peter. For good.’
‘Gone? For good? Gone where?’
‘They didn’t tell me anything.’
‘They?’ Peter’s heart skipped a beat.
‘Rose has gone with him…’
‘What…? Rose… Why…? Why…? ….Why…? …Why…?’