Cherry Blossoms

      Jesse’s eyes flickered open as rain pattered on the windowpane.  He looked out the single window from his bed laden with wool quilts and blankets.  Jesse shivered and turned away from the gray sky.  Sitting up, he sipped water from the heavy mug next to his bed.  The mug back down onto the table with a harsh thud as coughs forced their way up Jesse’s throat.  The door slammed open as Iris hurried through.

      “I didn’t know you were awake, Jesse.  How are you feeling?”  she said anxiously.  Iris leaned over and kissed him.

      Smiling, he looked up into her purple eyes with his brown ones.  “I dreamt again, the same sunny field of flowers with the same cottage at the top of the hill.  I know I’ll get well soon.  Then we can go walking down the lane with the cherry trees.  Winter is almost over.”  He reached up and stroked her black hair, and traced her nose.  Iris gave a weak smile. 

      “I hope so, you love cherry blossoms in full bloom.  It’s the beginning of spring tomorrow.  Maybe you will be better soon.  You’ve always been amazingly optimistic.  Even pneumonia can’t take that away from you.”

      “When I’m better we can finally go to see my family, together.  Everyone will love you.”

      After brushing a single silky black strand out of her face behind her ear, Iris used the back of her hand to stroke his cheek, and sat down to read.  Jesse looked around the dim, square room.  The cream colored ceiling loomed above, the wooden paneled walls started to close in.  Suddenly tired again, he turned to his side and placed his right arm underneath his head.  Iris looked up from her book and saw Jesse had fallen back into dream.

      Jesse stood in the middle of the flowering field looking up over the rolling skies.  Rows of daisies hugged his legs.  Delicious sunshine warmed his back.  It’s great to be alive.  Up on the hill, just beyond a cedar tree, stood the buttercup cottage, its blue trim barely visible.  On the wooden porch he could make out someone rocking back and forth.   That was new; there had never been anyone else in his field before.   Curious, Jesse started to trot towards the cottage.  But wait, that cottage isn’t mine, why did it matter if there was someone there? I don’t have any reason to go.  Jesse tried to reason with himself, but something urged him to continue up the path. 

      The fading light was making it hard for the words to come off of the page.  Iris heard the door open and stood up with one finger holding her spot open in her book.  The doctor came in and looked at Jesse and then at Iris.

      “Is he asleep?”

      “Yes, he’s been asleep for at least half an hour…I’m guessing. I’ve read about one and a half chapters since he fell back asleep.  He sleeps an awful lot now.”  Iris glanced back at Jesse.  He was peacefully breathing, pale, with locks hair falling over his forehead, sticking just slightly from sweat, dry lips parted. 

      “The tests came back.   Unfortunately, it’s worse than we thought.  He doesn’t have pneumonia.  It’s TB.”  The doctor handed Iris a stack of papers.  “It doesn’t look like he’s going to make it….I’m sorry, Iris.”

      Shocked, Iris glanced over the results.  There, neatly rowed in tables, was Jesse’s fate. 

      “This can’t be right.  He was always so healthy, never got even a sniffle as a kid.  He never thought it was anything.  But now…he’s dying.  Jesse….life is too short as it is.” Iris started to choke on her words. 

      “Would you like to tell him?  Or shall I when he comes to?”

      “I…. should…or maybe you, you’re the doctor…or maybe…I don’t know,” she said helplessly.  Her eyes wavered with tears.

      “We need to contact his family.  Or have you told them about his illness already?”

      “No, his parents died a few years ago in a car crash.  He gets along very well with his extended family, cousins, uncles, aunts, but tends not to talk to them much.  They live across country.  I’ve never met them, I don’t think I could have told them, even if I had known.”

      “I’ll let you think over what to do.  For now, I am going to go.  Call me when he’s awake, if you notice his fever rise, or if he starts acting agitated.”

      As the door shut, she walked around the bed and leaned against the small window, out into the mist.  She could see the cherry trees, buds waiting to open their glorious faces to the sun.  Wiping her eyes with her sleeve, Iris sat down again and opened the book to the place where her finger had marked, but the words had lost meaning. 

      Breathless and sore, Jesse sat down on the side of the grassy path that led up to the cottage.  Leaning back, he looked up at the clouds.  They curled and twisted into a suspicious spiral.  Bored, Jesse lifted his head off the ground and surveyed his immediate surroundings.  Reaching over to his right, his left hand plucked a dandelion.  The fluffy seeds swayed and floated off the stalk little by little as Jesse blew.  Eventually, Jesse got up, brushed off his pants, and continued to wander on his way.  

      The cottage came up level to Jesse’s eyes.  Now he could see a woman rocking underneath a wisteria-covered awning.  She spotted him and waved him over.  Slightly hesitant, Jesse stood rooted next to the cedar tree.  A light breeze pushed the swing on the bough above his head.  Catching one of the ropes of the swing with one hand, Jesse watched the woman stand up, gracefully head into the house, her heavy cotton skirt disappearing, leaving the door open behind her. 

      Iris’s wet fingers drummed the top of her book.  Unable to sit anymore, she rose dazed from the wooden chair and paced around the bed.  Outside, the rain started to lash at the window, demanding entry.  It was the rain that did it to him.  He promised me he would get better.  He promised me.  Iris placed the tip of her finger on the window and dragged out the shape of a heart out on the fogged glass. 

      Just the tail of her deep blue plaid skirt could be seen in the kitchen from the door.  A grandfather clocked ticked and tocked, the needles pointed to fourteen o’clock and seventy-two minutes.  Rays of golden sun flooded the elegant front room.  The floor was covered with carpet that sunk to the imprint of any foot.

      “I thought you were supposed to arrive later.  It’s a good thing I made tea early today.  Don’t be shy, come now, dear.”

      Wisteria kissed the top of Jesse’s head as he came in and stood in the middle of the front room.

explain.

tray laden with tea and finger sandwiches. 

      “Last time I saw you, you were just a babe in a cradle.  You had such an adorable face.  Look at you, always so handsome.  You have your mother’s eyes.  My goodness, I was not expecting you back so soon.”  She picked up the teapot and offered him some.  Jesse nodded as she filled his china cup.  Cherry blossoms, Jesse thought, picking up the flowered cup.  The woman looked at Jesse over the top of her cup, sipping all the while.  There was a small waver in her eyes.  Sorrow?  Maybe pity, but Jesse spotted it.  Suddenly uneasy, he shifted his weight on the soft couch and took a sip of the tea.  It floated over this tongue like a cloud, weightless, feathery, just the right temperature. 

      “This doesn’t make any sense,” Jesse said, breaking the silence.  “I shouldn’t even be here, it’s not my house, not my field.  How do you know me? What –”

      “Hush, it’s not the time for you to ask questions quite yet.  We were created with two ears, and one mouth. It’s obvious that listening is much more important.  I know you’re confused, but I’m here to tell everything, all in due time.  We have a bit of time still, why not use it?  Why don’t you tell me all about yourself?”

      Jesse blinked perplexed.  With nothing better to do, he shrugged his shoulders and waited.

      Iris spun around from the window; she’d heard something shift.  Jesse faced the other direction in his bed, breathing shallowly.  A small clock in the room chimed eight o’clock.  Drowsy, Iris sat down again and leaned her head against the wall.  Sleep crept into her fingertips and up through her until her eyes closed. 

      “ I met Iris two years ago in my writing class.  It took two weeks for me to even talk to her, and then a month to work up the courage to ask her out.  She’s so beautiful and sweet.”

      “Would you be willing to die for her?” 

      “What do you mean?  I mean….yes, but I don’t think I could live without her…don’t you know that already?  You’ve been dropping hints that you know everything about me.  If you think we were being clever, it was not very subtle.  Why have we been taking a walk down memory lane?  What does this have to do with me?”  Jesse said, frustrated after two hours of casual conversation.

      “Jesse, there are times in life when you have to step back and just see what you’ve done.  Usually, these times come when you’re about to move on.  Well, as you can see, we’re talking about you, and this is one of those times now. We are doing this because you need to remember.”

      Nervously Jesse looked at the woman, starting to dread what he was hearing.  She sighed and looked at him sadly. 

      “Jesse…you’re dying.  I’m sorry.  I was hoping that you would come back to see me when you were much older. You’re just like your parents.  Twenty-five is not a good time to die, too young, much too young.”

      The cherry blossom cup dropped and shattered. Little tinkling pieces of porcelain dispersed over the floor.  That doesn’t make any sense. How does glass break on carpeting?  A million more questions flooded into Jesse’s mind. 

      Jesse’s body jerked violently in his bed, sweat glistening on his forehead.  Iris woke from her nap.  Ghostly pale in the faint moonlight, Jesse slept on, wheezing and gasping for air.  Iris flew to the phone and called the doctor. 
 
 

      “I’m what?  No, that can’t be!  I made a promise!  I’m going home with Iris!”

      “Don’t be childish, Jesse.  Some promises have to be broken.  I don’t have control over this.  Jesse, there’s nothing else I can say other than that I was hoping for you to come back after fulfilling a good life.” 

      The woman spoke with a calm edge to her voice.  She sat poised on the sofa, teacup in hand.  Her green eyes showed sympathy, but no more pity.  Looking down at the dregs in her cup, she placed it back on the glass coffee table.  Bending down, she collected the pieces from the shattered glass on the carpet, and with a wave, brought the cup back, whole and functional.  The woman handed Jesse the glass. 

      “Cherry blossoms are the symbol of samurai.  Beautiful and delicate, but can fall at any moment.  This is yours.”

      Jesse held out his hand, dazed, and accepted the reconstructed glass. 

      “But I have to go home…”

      “You are home, Jesse.  You said you were confused about why you are here.  You shouldn’t be, it’s yours, the field, the house, all of it.  This is the home you made.  We all make our eternal homes depending on what we found most beautiful and comforting in our lives.  It makes it easier to make the transition.  When you are ready, people can come visit.  Your parents have been wanting to see you.  But for now, you need to accept where you are.” 

      Jesse’s body convulsed on the bed, sweat dripped down his head forming discolored droplets on the pillowcase.  Iris watched as the sheets hugged him tightly, wrapped, twisted, spiraled.  Panting and writhing, Jesse continued to sleep.  Iris desperately shook Jesse’s arm.  “JESSE, WAKE UP!  It’s a dream. Come back! JESSE, PLEASE!” 

      Inside the cottage, the light shifted as the sun disappeared behind clouds.  Jesse could hear thunder, roaring winds started to blow, and the door of the cottage swung open letting in a chilling gust.  He ran from the house out to the cedar tree.  Exhausted, Jesse sat down on the swing, panting, struggling to breathe.  JESSE, COME BACK! JESSE!  Thunder cracked, drowning out Iris’ voice.  Rain started to pour down on the field, flowers bowed in the wind.   Crying, Jesse stood and looked up towards the sky. So this is what it’s like to die.  I’m sorry, Iris. Heavy drops fell, kissing his smooth skin, plastering down his hair, washing away the tears. 

      A petal floated down from above, swaying side to side, flitting in the spring zephyr.  Iris stood over a fresh plot of over-turned, rich, warm soil.  Upon the tombstone, the words engraved Dearest Jesse, son, and friend.  Delicate like the cherry blossoms.  Taking a deep breath in, Iris lifted her eyes up to the bright heavens.  Her eyes started to itch with tears already spent.  Drawing off the engagement ring Jesse had given her off her left ring finger, she turned from his grave.  Iris ambled away, pink cherry blossoms swirling through her long black hair, and around her as they made their first and last fall.s