Copper Roses

There were very few days I felt beautiful.  Seventeen years of TV, movies, magazines, school bullies, and a lack of self-confidence have ingrained the importance of how you look.  People can spout all the "true beauty is on the inside" crap, but the fact is, no one voluntarily gets close enough to look inside unless you can grab their attention with the outside first.  But as I walked down the muddy path is the humid, sticky, fresh country air with him by my side, I felt pretty good about myself.  After all, anybody can look good in a tight bodice that cinches your waist and pushes your breasts up to your chin.  

It was fall and time for the Renaissance Festival.  The Faire is one of those events were I revel in my dorkishness and go all out.  Costumes, accents, I was willing to do it all to spend a day, alone, with David.  David and I had been best friends for years.  He owned my emotions, whether he knew it or not, and the simplest word or touch could change my mood in an instant.  And so being out on such a wonderful day, and such a fun event, alone with him, was certainly one for the record books.  

"These places always remind me of fairy tales," he said, looking at all the people in costume shuffling about.  David was a romantic at heart.  In the modern world, he was desperate to be some woman's old-fashioned type guy.  He wrote poetry, drew pictures, and believed in chivalry and romance.  He treated women like they were princesses.  All woman, of course, but me.

For the first year I assumed it was just because I had gotten too close too quickly, and found myself in the fatal "best friend" role.  We would talk until the early hours of the morning.  I would let him cry on my shoulder when his girlfriend dumped him.  I would bring him hot soup when he was sick from school.  All the things a best friend would do, the whole time silently praying he would see just how well I would take care of him.

Sometime in the second year I finally, somehow, gathered up the courage to tell him how I really felt.  I pleaded with him, trying to make him realize how perfect for each other we could be.  He nodded, and in a calm voice placated with all the typical things you say to someone you're rejecting.  But then, "You would be perfect for me," he had told me, "but you're just not what I'm looking for in a girlfriend.  You know, physically."

Yes, I knew.  He was a knight, and he wanted a princess.  Hardly my style.  Of course I was crushed, and I refused to talk to him for a good week and a half, but all it took was a single apologizing letter left in my locker and things were right back where they always had been.  I was much more willing to be his best friend than not have him in my life.  And pretty soon, things were back to normal.  

We meandered around the fair, having to stay very close to one another in order not to get separated in the large crowd.  It was hot in my dress, but every time I passed my reflection in the glass of a shop I would smile.  It was perfect.  While probably not an authentic representation of Renascence life, the whole faire makes you feel like you've stepped into a different kind of reality.  The crowds are thick with different people.  Some people wear completely normal clothes, or parents will trot around in polo's and khaki's while their kids are dressed up in a pirate costume brandishing a wooden sword.  But the myriad of adults, that probably all have rather perfunctory lives outside the faire, are really what make you realize that you're not in Kansas anymore.  More adults are in costume than you would see at a typical Halloween party, and they all come out and do in the middle of the heat of the day!  Large groups of Braveheart-esque Scotsmen wander around drinking, and are considered charming by leering at women and making comments that would normally land them with a sexual harassment case.  Young woman prance around in sequined fairy costumes, side by side with a man in an elaborate homemade centaur costume and a man with costume he picked up at Wal-Mart for $12.95.  Faire employees hark at you in grating, fake European accents, and overweight woman with no modesty holler catcalls wearing little more than a chain mail bikini.  The smell of food is everywhere, from funnel cakes to turkey legs, mingled with the scent of mud and grass and horse manure.
     
My confidence was busting at the seams as David and I wandered around, enjoying the smells and sights of the faire.  I was hungry from smelling the food, especially the corner store that was selling fried alligator, but I resisted eating just yet.  I could still taste my toothpaste in my mouth, and my dress was spotless.  As we continued on, doing more people-watching than window shopping, I was casually looking for a particular shop I wanted to show him.  When I found it, my eyes lit up and had to stop myself from just running over.

The shop is one of the larger ones at the faire, and they sell the most gorgeous things in the world I have ever seen: copper roses.  From the first time I saw them several years ago when my brother took me to the fair for the first time, I had promised myself that one day, some man would buy me one of these.  They ranged in size from a single bud to huge wall-gardens, but each and every petal was hand-made from a small sheet of antiqued copper.  It was hard to explain why I found them so stunning.  Their color was some mysterious blend of, gold, silver, and rose all kind of fused together with a metallic sheen to them.  The copper was hammered in a way that it looked like liquid colors frozen in place.  They were highly polished and sparkled in the sunlight.  I wasn't very subtle about my intention as a dragged David over to see them.  He had heard me talk about these things before.  

I knew these kind of places always tickled David's chivalrous side.  As commercialized and over the top as the faire was, being surrounded by knights and fairies really made you feel like you were walking around in a fairy tale.  I was hoping the mood of the day was making him feel romantic, and even though at the end of the day I know it would only be a "friendly" gesture, to receive one these roses from David would be nothing short of a dream come true for me.  

A spent a good amount of time going over the stock, looking over each rose with care, illustrating to my partner how entranced I were with them.  "They remind me of that little romance trick people will play," I said as casually as a could, "You know, where a man will buy eleven real roses, and then one fake one, and tell her something like 'I will love you until the  last rose dies'?  It's like that, but you don't even need the real roses."  I laughed and handed him one from a vase of long-stems.  "I would much rather having something like this than a real rose anyway.  It's prettier and lasts a whole lot longer.  It always disturbed me to watch flowers die."  

After several minutes of '"innocent" browsing, David came over to me and put a ten dollar bill in my hand.  "Why don't you get us some drinks?" he asked, smirking.  He had that look in his eye.  He was up to something, and I knew it.  I felt my heart flutter and bit down on my lip and nodded, dashing out of the store quickly.  Before looking around for a drink vendor, I looked back over my shoulder.  As soon as David thought I was gone, I saw him buy a rose and tuck it away in the vest of his costume, under the cloak, out of sight.  Sneaky bugger, I chimed in my head, then went to go get the drinks.

I hurried back, my heart still swelling in my chest with anticipation.  Sending me away so he could buy one and not have me notice!  Though the plan was transparent, I didn't care.  It was the thought that counted, and I was dancing around on cloud nine my whole way back to give him the bottled water I just overpaid for.  He was waiting for me outside the rose shop, a huge, sly grin on his face as I passed him the water.  I gave him a look that told him I knew what he was up to, but he just winked and asked if we wanted to continue on.

I spent the rest of the day wondering about the rose under his cloak.  Was he trying to throw me off?  I mean, it was pretty obvious why he sent me away... so he must have just been waiting to catch me off guard.  Yes, that had to be it. I thought about confessing I saw him buy it few times, but I forced myself to hold my tongue and play along.  For hours I waited.  We went to other shops, got food to eat, and watched the shows.  But I hardly remember anything that happened.  Just the sound of the faire and me fantasying all day about David's plan to confess his undying love for me, dropping to one knee and presenting the rose to me, begging me to forgive him for not realizing how perfect I was sooner.

Eventually we stopped to eat.  We watched the juggling-comedy group as we picked our way through a grossly oversized (and overpriced) turkey leg.  I did the best to eat daintily, but that's nearly impossible to.  As I day dreamed about  David's big romantic plans, I constantly had to break my concentration and wipe the grease from my face, or pick a piece of gristle from between my front teeth.  Most of my make-up around my mouth was completely gone by the time I gave up on the leg, and for the rest of the day my fairytale plans were slightly tarnished as a piece of turkey skin was lodged deep between two of back teeth - like a briar tangled in the mane of the knight's white stallion.   

Despite the whirlwind of activities, shops, and people to distract my attention, the day seemed longer than normal.  The anticipation had manifested itself into a large knot settled in the pit of my stomach.  By the time dusk was settling in and the crowd started to thin out, I was tired from a long day spent walking around in the sun.  My hopes of getting the rose were dimming, and the day certainly began to feel a whole lot gloomier.  But as we started to slowly make out way to the main gates, we passed a large alehouse and café and David stopped.  "Want some coffee?" he asked suddenly, already heading over.  I nodded and followed, wondering what he was up to now.  He ordered me a frozen cappuccino and sat down with me on a bench beside a rose bush.  My heart started to flutter again, wondering if he was going to do what I hoped he was.

"I have been dying to get the courage to do this," he said.  "This place always gets me like that, you know.  As cheesy as it sounds."

I didn't know what to say, afraid that if I said anything it would come out sounding like a squeak, so I just nodded.  

"You know how you always say I'm only romantic in my head, right?  But I'm too much of a puss to ever go up do anything about it?"

I snickered.  It was true.  As romantic his intentions, often times he would just write anonymous poems and stick them in lockers as opposed to actually talking to the girls he liked.  

"Well, I think I'm finally going to prove you wrong."

My heart jumped into my throat as David stood up and his hand went to side where I know he had the rose tucked away.  But then his eyes lifted off mine and went to the side.  Then he began to... walk away.

I blinked a few times and watched him go.  I turned in my seat and watched him walk over to some girl.  It suddenly dawned on me.  That was Morgan Casenway from school.  She was in David's computer science class and then I remembered David mention last week that she was planning on coming to the faire this weekend.  I felt a sick feeling starting to rise in my stomach as I watched David go over to her and begin talking.  I can't remember if I was too far away to hear what he said, or if I just chose not to hear it, but I do remember quite clearly the look of surprise on her face when David bowed down, slipped the rose out of his cloak, and rose with it presented out to her.  He had a demure, smug smile on his face as she accepted it, and then a moment later, was writing something down on a scratch of paper.
I could almost hear my heart breaking.  Slack-jawed; I sat on the bench and focused my attention on not crying.  Like a train-wreck, I didn't want to watch as David received the woman's phone number, but it was nearly impossible for me to look away.  Finally I tore my eyes away from a moment and focused on my lap.  My eyes critically ran down my legs.  My shoes were horribly muddy from the long day's walking, and the edge of my dress was dirty and fraying.  Water-spotted stains reached up almost as far as my knee in some places, where a horse has knocked water from a large mud puddle onto me.  As I looked harder, I noticed more and more imperfections.  The seeming on the bodice was all crooked, something I hadn't noticed before, and it was bunched up at all the wrong places.  One of the bonings had slipped out of place and threatening to tear at the bottom of the bodice seem.  My hands were dirty and grubby.  Several hours of passing around money and eating greasy food with no napkins cause my short, unmanicured fingernails to look like they have a layer of brown grime under them.  I focused my attention on trying to impromptu clean them, wondering if David had noticed.     

I looked up as I picked under my nails to see David chatting amicably with the girl.  I realized I must have been staring as David headed back over to me and his confident expression turned to one of worry.  So quickly I straightened up and plastered a smile of my face, giving him a small wave as he headed back over.  

"We should probably go," he said, "they're closing up the park now."

I excused myself to the restrooms to wash my face and cry the few tears that refused not to be shed.  I stared a good, long time into the mirror.  The face that stared back at me was a not the same woman who had started the day.  That woman seemed miles away, not just a few hours.  I tried to compose myself before heading back out towards the car.  There was no one to blame but myself, after all.  David had not given any indication that he ever intended to give that rose to me.  It was all my fault, and I convinced myself I deserved the disappointment for such silly thinking.

There were several minutes of awkward silence as we walked together back to his car.  The walk back to the car was the polar opposite from the walk from the car earlier that day.  My confidence wasn't just gone, it was decimated.  My dress was ill-fitting now after a day in the elements, and I felt dirty and sweaty.  Sweat and napkins had taken almost all the make up off my face, and what was left looked like I had on for days thanks to the Texas heat.  My feat ached, and the tight bodice restricted my breathing, causing me to start breathing hard on the trek, making me feel much more out of shape than I actually was.  My hair's body had fallen flat and lifeless against my head in the heat, but the humidly had caused a halo to frizz to emerge, and no matter how many times I ran my hands through it, it wouldn't go away.  In a nutshell, I felt ugly.  Uglier than I had felt in months.  Especially compared to Morgan.  She looked shower-fresh and nearly glowing even after a full day of trekking around in the harsh outdoors.  From her stance, I couldn't see any turkey stains on her shirt.  Nor did her feet looked muddy, and her nails were perfectly manicured.  Actually, I couldn't really tell if her nails were manicured or not, but I just new they were.  Morgan was the type of girl, I imagine, who wouldn't go anywhere without looking like a Abercrombie model.

The walk to the car was long, and felt even longer thanks to my mood.  A battle was raging in my head as I chided myself for being so foolish.  David couldn't be fooled by make up or a beautiful dress.  He knew what I looked like under all that, and not even the fantasy atmosphere of the fair could distract him from that reality.  He knew.  He always knew.  He knew I didn't wear make up, that my hair was bad.  That I was overweight and freckled.  Even in the fantasy, I was still all those things to David.  I was just pretending to be different.  I had managed to fool myself, but not him.

I felt like I was dying inside, while David's step was light and bouncy.  Finally he broke the silence.  "Well, aren't you proud of me?  I finally did it.  I asked Morgan out."

An image of Morgan dying in a tragic car wreck on the way home from faire flashed across my mind, but I just smiled and nodded.  "I am," I lied.  "I told you she would say yes if you asked."

"Yeah, you were right, Sam.  I should just start learning that you're always right about these things."

"Yeah, the world would be a much better place if I ran it," I said wryly, trying to force myself to sound humorous.

The closer we got to the car the more I felt I wanted to lay down behind it and let David back out over me.  But when he got there, David paused and turned to faced me.  "Thank you," he said with a smile.  "You're the best friend anyone could ever want."  Then he pulled me into a hug and kissed my temple.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, smelling his scent as I nuzzled into his shoulder.  I wrapped my arms around him and the blackness in my heart seeped away faster than it had gathered.  I hated how much control he had over me.  I hated how he treated me.  And I hated, more than anything, that he could fix such a deep betrayal with something as simple as a hug.

But that's how I knew I loved him so much.