Flowers and Red Hair

The cushion of Rossi-san's hair along with my shoulder must've made an excellent pillow for her. For me, it was like a furry cat with expertly groomed hair had been gently placed by the angels. She moved her head a bit to find the right spot of comfort, and once she found it, she chuckled.

"I don't think I can cry anymore, now that you're here."

"Wow, so this had the opposite effect of what I wanted. Guess I'll go back to my spot then."
I faked getting up.

"No!" she exclaimed.

She wrapped herself around my elbow as if we were a couple dating for years. We weren't, which was why I tensed my body upon contact. Her head stuck to my shoulder like glue to prevent movement. I hadn't expected this much contact, but as she did so, I learned two more things about her.

One: Her hair's aroma. From the first breath I inhaled with her by my side, I noticed an ambrosial smell appropriately natural to the garden. Unsurprisingly, her hair was scented with a multitude of florals. The fragrance was strong in a way that made me want to breathe in longer intervals; magical. It was like I was in an endless park of flowers, from lavenders to roses, the spectrum was extensive.
She was like the garden itself, she was the garden everywhere she walked.

Two: Her hair's color. My head slightly turned to the right when she pounced on my elbow, and the right side of my vision was entirely red. I had seen the color red often throughout my life to the point where I hated it so much, because of how many times it came from my nose and mouth. But when I saw this red on her, complemented by the combined forces of sunlight and fallen cherry blossom petals, my hatred subsided immediately.
A beautiful red, as dark as wine.

I could truly say that, at the time, this was the happiest my mind had ever been. I had missed out on so much because of my misplaced worries that dominated my thinking. To note, where we went from here was still undetermined. Besides the occasional conversation between my sister and I, I didn't know how to establish a stronger connection with people after being out of practice for a year.

She must've had the same thought, since she said,
"What do we do from now on?"
She loosened her grip around my arm and reeled herself back to a straight posture.

"To be honest, I think we should sort things out on our own. We lied to each other because we wanted things to be the same, secretly hopin' it would change. I know you said you wanted me to be your friend, and I think I want you to be mine, but for me, I don't know what I want."

"I understand," she said.
She used another tissue to wipe her drying tears.
"If we don't want the same things, then it's better to know that earlier than not. It's best to not rush into friendship."

"So...we're not friends, right?"

"Oh my, you really are a novice with people. Fufu."
She turned in my direction to laugh.

That was the first time I heard her giggle up close. If it wasn't because she ridiculed me, maybe I would've turned to see her do so. In spite of the mockery, she was right. I wasn't experienced with friends after getting not three, but four strikes in my first attempt...as a batter.

We agreed to take the time to figure things out on our own when school ended, that way we could stay how we were for the remaining half an hour. She brought her left hand before me where I saw a forest green elastic bracelet around the palm of her hand; it had a flower's capitulum on it.

"You see this?" she said. "My mother got it for me when I turned seven. It's nothing special, but I like the sound it makes when I pull it back and have it hit my palm. It's similar to clapping, but the sound it makes is rather unique. Listen."

She demonstrated the sound. It was the same snapping sound I heard from last Friday. She was right, it sounded like one strike of a violin string. Strong, yet soft on the ears for a quick moment.

"When I feel anxious in public, I use this bracelet to hit my palm and create a rhythm as I sing the flower song I told you about, remember?"
I did. She used the calendar to make her song.
"The butterfly weed, despite its bright and beautiful color, was dangerous on the inside. It wasn't poisonous or anything, but deep within the orange petals lied its true meanings, the same meanings I feared. It's the strongest part of the song."

"Leavin' in any way, rejection, and solitude, right?" I quoted the calendar.

"Eeh? You remembered its meaning? I'm so proud of you!"

With no mannerisms or care for personal space, she sprung back to my right elbow and I closed my eyes to prevent seeing any new part of her. Like I said before, one step at a time. After she returned back to her spot – and a few strong words from myself – she didn't sing her song like I thought she would. She said she was embarrassed to sing aloud, so she hummed it once again.

I read her calendar and she hummed until it was time for us to leave the garden.

I stood up and told her, "I'll leave first."
I handed her the calendar without looking at her. I'd have to go back to my spot on the other side of the hedge because I left my schoolbag there. I took my flip-phone from my pocket and saw the time. I also got a message from Muku saying she'd be late today.

"Wait!" she yelled.
There was no need for her to shout, I was still next to her. My poor ears.
"W-Will you be joining this side...from now on?"
Her voice broke again, but in a comical way that had me trying my hardest to suppress a giggle.

"Sorry," I said. I had started walking away. "I just got a message sayin' I won the lottery. I'll be droppin' out of school and movin' to Spain."

She stood up too.
"You're not very serious, are you?"

"Do you want me to answer that?" I asked, increasing my voice due to the growing distance.

"Fufu," she giggled. "I'll take that as a 'yes' then."
Her chipperness had finally returned.

I abruptly stopped walking as if a pedestrian light had just turned red.
"Wait, a 'yes' to which of your questions?"

"Do you want me to answer that?" she asked.
She got me.

Without further reply, I left the garden, and I assumed she did too. I'd be lying if I said I left with my standard platonic face, but I'd rather not go into detail about what kind of face I was genuinely making.

The spring evening weather on my way to the apartment was quite windy, yet soothing. It was like a much desired fan for my flustered face. I tapped my thigh with my right fingertips; it hurt with every movement, but I could only be pleased as I played the poems while looking at the traffic lights turn red.

So much red.

Red. Staring ahead of me, I envisioned the memory of the girl from the flower garden; Rossi-san. Red. I wondered if there were any flowers with the same dim red as her hair. Red.
It wasn't the red I was used to... I thought. This red was different. The waviness of her hair, freshly and carefully conditioned. If there's a flower out there with the same color, then that's my favorite.

The gravity of Rossi-san's struggles weren't as heavy as most people might think, but of course, it was subjective. To others, worrying over people's happiness wasn't something to care for, but to her, it was everything. She was selfless to the point where she didn't value anything about herself, which led to her subliminally asking for help.

Why did I answer her calls? When we made the promise, she catered it to my liking, not her's. I created the burden onto her, yet she answered my calls first. No, it wasn't guilt or pity. It was repayment, and perhaps something more.

I was inexperienced with change, so maybe, just possibly, though Swani might've denied it, I was hoping for it. Maybe this girl was my best opportunity to get it. It was selfish to think, and probably a terrible idea in general, but instead of being stuck in the river of life by choice, maybe I could flow down its stream just a bit to see what it held.

At the time, I didn't know what to call us. Two students with the commonality of a lie at the garden; one didn't know the other's name, and the other didn't know one's face. Friends? Definitely not...yet. Acquaintances?

We'll see.