Wilted Petals By: Sean Roberts
Author's Note: Any feedback is much appreciated, please send to seanr_13@yahoo.ca
Chapter 2
The first day of school. It is a day to receive schedules and see friends that have been lost during the summer, but it also marks the end of the summer that Johanna and Leslie spent together.
They are lined up in the school gymnasium, around the edge of which tables have been set up, prefects sitting behind them, finding and distributing everybody's schedules.
Neither of them looks at the papers they now hold. They leave the crowded gymnasium as soon as possible and find a secluded spot to look at their lives--so neatly printed on clean, white paper with black ink--for the next ten months.
Most of their classes are together. Leslie looks around quickly before kissing Johanna on the cheek, celebrating the fact that their classes will not separate them.
To the world they are best friends. To Johanna's parents, to Leslie's parents, to their teachers and classmates and friends. And to Jonathan, who they have not seen for the summer.
The girls have to attend their first classes without each other. Johanna walks into her English class, where her teacher Mrs. Walker is in the middle of a conversation with another student.
"Johanna!" Her name is the first thing she hears when she walks into the room, spoken with a smooth, masculine voice; a slightly foreign accent. Her name rolls off his tongue like honey. Ever since her parents told her why they gave it to her she has treasured it; ever since the first time he heard it he has loved it. Whenever she introduces herself she says her name slowly, clearly, so that there are no mistakes.
Her father wanted Jordan: a name for his son. But when he got a daughter instead, he realized the name would work just as well. Her mother wanted Hanna, a soft, elegant name. She is an equal product of her two parents.
Johanna turns slightly to the left and she sees him sitting on top of his desk, his legs resting on the chair, talking to the person behind him. But now he has turned around. He is darker than she remembers him, and taller. His dark blue eyes have not changed, nor have the light brown curls on top of his head, though they are longer now than when she last saw him.
"Jonathan," she repeats, smiling and walking over to him. They do not hug, as most of the class is seated inside the room. She takes his hand into hers for a brief moment; a small squeeze before she lets go. "How was the trip?"
"It was amazing! I saw everything--Paris, Rome, Italy-- well those are the places I enjoyed the most. How are you doing?"
"I'm fine." Mrs. Walker is ready to start the class. She has taught most of them before in their first year of high school.
Johanna smiles at him before she takes the empty seat beside him. Halfway through the class she sees his arm reach across to leave a folded piece of lined paper in front of her. She opens it immediately. Meet me in front of the library immediately after last period.
He has used an entire piece of binder paper for this note. She unfolds it completely, turning the page in her binder on which she is writing notes and placing it immediately after. His note now part of her curriculum.
She doesn't see him waiting but suddenly someone has thrown their arms around her, hugging her tightly, her name on the person's lips. Instinctively she pushes, hard, and Jonathan goes flying into the locker behind him. Until she sees it's him, Johanna has an angry look on her face. Leslie is with them, and the three friends suddenly look embarrassed.
"I'm so sorry Jonathan! You scared me!" Johanna says. He looks surprised but he laughs it off. He greets Leslie, much more formally but it is still friendly.
He asks if they need rides home, but Leslie tells him that she now has a car.
"Great!" is his response. "Well how about I drive Johanna then?" Johanna looks at Leslie and shrugs.
"I'll call you later," Johanna tells her.
The first time she shoved him was over her name. They had known each other for almost a year when one day he came up to her and said, "how's it going Jo?"
She then said her name, Johanna, with a sword like sharpness, cutting through his attempt to become more familiar with her. "It's Johanna," she said again afterwards, the same sharpness in her voice but this time with more softness. She glared at him until she saw the pain in his eyes.
"Okay," he said finally. "Johanna. I'm sorry." She glared at him some more before she walked away. It was nearing the end of the tenth grade. Her and Leslie had not yet figured out their feelings for each other and were just friends. She did not see Jonathan that summer either.
"You wanna grab a burger or something?" he asks her casually, his right arm stretched out, holding the top of the steering wheel. She can see the tenseness in his muscles, can sense the false indifference in his voice.
"Sure," she says. He makes a quick turn and in minutes they are inside a restaurant, ordering burgers, fries and sodas. It is a mock 50s diner--table-cloths with red and white squares, licence plates on the walls and teenagers kissing their boyfriends and girlfriends. Jonathan and Johanna are sitting across each other in a booth when their food arrives.
He eats a fry before saying: I saw some of the most beautiful things in the world when I was in Europe this summer, and I still thought about you every day.
"That's nice," she replies flippantly. She lifts her burger and takes a large bite, looking around the diner, pretending he did not say anything of importance. "I thought about you too," she adds, smiling in the friendliest way she knows how so that he knows they do not mean the same thing.
"Umm, Johanna, that's not what I meant." She puts down her burger and wipes her mouth.
"I know what you meant. I've told you this before--"
"Yes, before. What about now?"
"I told you Jonathan, I can't." He told her once to call him John, or Johnny, whichever she preferred, but after he tried to call her Jo she was never able; never saw it as fair. She knows this isn't fair either, not telling him why she keeps refusing to date him.
She gives him a look that tells him not to argue, and he takes a bite of his burger.
In his car in her driveway, he puts his arm around her shoulders and leans over to kiss her cheek. She loves the way he kisses her. He always does it slowly, and very gently. An unassuming kiss that makes her feel loved. "It really was nice to see you again."
"You too Jonathan. I'll see you in class tomorrow." He removes his arm and she gets out of his car. Before she reaches her front door she turns around to wave and to smile. She hears his car backing out of the driveway as she closes her front door.
The Labrador's name was Fred. Sometimes, when her parents saw her playing with him, they would start to sing, together, the song that went "We're having fun, sitting in the back seat, kissing and hugging with Fred, the dog." She expects him to come bounding up to her every time she comes home but right now the house is empty. Her parents are at work and Fred is in the backyard--a small, homemade monument to him sticking out of the dirt in one of the corners.
Her after-school routine has always been to have a quick snack and then get right to her homework. She would do it with her father, in his study, which she enters now. Ever since she was old enough to be at home on her own she would still come there to study, though the room would be empty. When she was little there was a wooden table and a small chair facing her father's desk. The table and chair are still there, neatly tucked away in the corner.
She sits in her father's large, leather chair--the chair in which she always felt the most secure because he would always be in it with her. Since she was thirteen years old he was the only man she ever trusted. Since it was just the first day she has no homework to do, so instead she pulls a book off her father's shelf and reads in his lap until her parents get home.
She has never given anybody everything. The first person, other than her parents, who she ever became close with was Leslie. With her best friend she shared what she had to deal with going through puberty; she shared the fact that she didn't find herself at all attracted to boys. And then she shared her heart on a rainy afternoon, in Leslie's bedroom. They were sitting on Leslie's bed, listening to a new CD, when she leaned forwards and kissed her best friend on the lips. It was quick and prudent; the girls were fifteen.
Leslie doesn't know about the rape.
It was hard for her to accept Jonathan as a friend, but he persisted. He did not persist because he wanted to date her but because he truly cared for her. He valued every moment he was able to spend with her.
She told him about the rape.
It had crept into her mind one evening and she needed to talk to somebody about it. She hated bringing it up with her parents because they would get upset right along with her. She knew he would too, but when she told him they were both still kids, and he had no way of comprehending what she was going through. For her, his reaction was perfect: he remained absolutely silent. Jonathan was uncomfortable, not knowing what to say so he said nothing. But she could see that he was listening, trying to understand something that could only be understood if it was experienced. They were in Jonathan's living room, the television off. After she told him she picked up the remote, turned it on, and leaned against his shoulder while they watched music videos.
Jonathan doesn't know that she's a lesbian.