Black Rose -a short story

This is it...Black Rose. Copyrighted in 1986 in its original version, and currently in its revised version.

                        The white rose is life, the red rose is love, the black rose is death

                                Black Rose

                                                      by Ron L.P.

                                   AKA: Tovor, 14th Colony, Slide on the Ice, & Inspireshine

  My heavy boots made loud clomping noises as I paced the uncarpeted floor of my bedroom. I walked from one end of the room to the other, passing my girlfriend at each interval. I could not stop walking; my restlessness being caused by some form of anxiety. What it was, I did not know. My girlfriend sat on the bed and watched me, evidently puzzled by my nervous appearance. I should have been excited about the news that she had given me, yet I seemed to be afraid of it; like a rat hiding from a piece of cheese.

  Lisa stood and stopped my pacing by placing her body directly in front of mine. Standing on the tips of her toes, she reached up with both arms and pulled my face toward hers. She pressed her tender lips against mine for a moment and relaxed her body, leaving her arms around my neck.

  “What’s wrong, Dave?” she asked me softly. “I thought you’d be thrilled when I told you; it’s what we’ve always wanted.”

  “That was then and this is now,” I replied coldly, not entirely sure of my reasons. “Things are happening too fast, and it’s time to hit the brakes and slow down. You knew I wasn’t ready for this. I think you let yourself get pregnant so I’d have no choice but to marry you.”

  She released her hold on me and stepped back, apparently bewildered by my accusation. “What are you saying? We’ve been talking about marriage for the past two years, and we’ve never even used birth control. How could you think I tricked you when it’s what we’ve always wanted? This is our chance, why don’t you want to take it?”

  “You’re too young to have a baby,” I told her with a hint of vehemence in my tone. Her age was not the real reason, of course, but at the time I was not sure of the reason myself.

  She shook her head with disbelief, her eyebrows raised in confusion. “I’m twenty years old,” she said boldly. “Don’t talk like I’m a child!”

  With increased restlessness I paced again, bumping into her body as I walked past it. She stumbled and nearly fell, but her quick reflexes enabled her to regain her balance quickly. When I turned back to her, I saw her staring after me in confusion. Her eyes were wet, and the moisture gathering in the corners of her bright blue eyes threatened to spill out over her lightly freckled cheeks. I should have felt sympathetic toward her pain, but for some reason her sadness made me angry. I felt a strange emotion that I did not understand; a cold hatred toward Lisa, but I did not know why. As my temper rose inside me, the pressure in my head and chest grew stronger.

  “I don’t want it, Lisa, so stop arguing with me!”

  “Stop arguing with you? I just told that we’re going to have a baby, and you’re not even happy. God gave us a blessing, and you treat it as if it were a curse. You should have thought about this before you convinced me to move in with you. What were you thinking when you told me you wanted to marry me and raise a family?” Her voice began to break as the inevitable sobs left her throat.

  It was then that I lost my temper. I smashed my fist down on the dresser beside me and shouted, “Don’t push me, Lisa! I told you I’m not ready for a baby, so you’re going to have an abortion. That’s it, end of discussion!”

  My fury shocked her and caused her to jump back warily. I walked out of the room quickly, leaving her behind, shocked in disbelief at my actions. I walked though my small, barely furnished living room toward the kitchen to get a beer. I had already drank several before Lisa came home with her big news, but I needed another one to calm me down. I knew I had to get away from my nagging girlfriend before she drove me crazy, but she did not make it easy as she followed me out of the bedroom and ran a few steps to catch up with my rapid pace. After stopping me with both hands on my shoulder, she stood in front of me and held her position, as if trying to prevent me from going any further.

  Once again standing on her toes, she encircled the back of my neck with her hands. This time, however, she did not try to kiss me. She knew better. For a few seconds she gazed into my eyes, searching for even the slightest hint of compassion and love that she once saw there. There was no warmth in my eyes, and all she saw was cold steel staring back at her with contempt. I was nearly a foot taller than her, which allowed me to look down on her. This gave me a psychological edge over her. I was in the superior position, like that of a parent looking down on a child. This made her uncomfortable, though it never had before, and she let go of the hold on my neck. She looked down at my boots, unable to look me in the eye. Finally, she looked up again, and when she did I could see the heartbreak in her eyes, the tears running down her face. For a moment I had the impulse to comfort her and dry her tears, but then a dark emotion said No, and in my anger I was immune to her sadness.

  When she tried to speak her voice was shaky and difficult to understand, her sentences broken by choked sobs; but through her sobs I could hear her anger, and I knew that I had offended her. “I can’t believe you said that! How could you even suggest an abortion?”

  That was it, the abortion issue. I had touched upon a tender nerve with a subject I knew she was adamantly opposed to; and even more so because of her religious beliefs. What God disliked, she once told me, she also disliked. It was for that reason that she had spent much of the last year telling me about her feelings of guilt concerning our living arrangements; and why she had repeatedly pressured me to marry her to make our union “holy in the sight of God”--or something ridiculous like that. So she had pushed me to no avail, and now she had let herself get pregnant in order to force me into something I wanted no part of.

  “What happened to you, Dave?” she continued. “What happened to the man I fell in love with? That man loved me and wanted to have children; but you, you expect me to murder our baby! What’s wrong with you?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with me, Lisa!” I snapped back. I’m just sick to death of your whining and complaining. Now stay the hell away from me before I smash you from wall to wall!”  I turned my back on her and headed into the kitchen. I needed that beer now more than ever, but I still did not know why I was so furious. There was an unexplained emotion in the back of my subconscious mind that was causing all of that animosity and anger. Something very dark had been building up inside me, becoming more and more powerful over the last year. Yet I did not understand the dark emotion, or know why it existed. What I did know, however, was that my temper was rising to the boiling point. Soon, I knew, it would explode.

  I opened the refrigerator and searched for the twelve pack of beer that I had brought home that afternoon. My search was futile. Aside from Lisa’s orange juice and health foods, and a few other groceries, the fridge was empty. 

  “Where’s the goddamned beer?” I shouted to my girlfriend.

  Lisa was on the couch in the living room. Her hands were lying loosely in her lap and the expression on her tear-stained face was listless. She stared vacantly at the wall opposite her, a wall devoid of decorations or even a good coat of paint.

  “Where’s the fucking beer I bought today?” I asked again, this time in a louder voice.

   She looked up at me with misty, tear-filled eyes. “You must have drank it already,” she said in a hesitant voice. “It’s not my fault you’re too drunk to remember.”

   “It is your fault, bitch! You went out buying your health crap…you should have gotten more beer too!”

    She stood up to face me, a surprising act of courage. Her eyes were moist and bloodshot, and her lips trembled when she spoke. Her long mane of reddish-brown hair, usually neat and brushed back, was now hanging down in messy strands, covering half her face. “What did you expect me to do, David? I sure as hell didn’t go to the store; I don’t have a car. You were out all day, why didn’t you buy more for yourself? Don’t blame me for your own drunken stupidity!”

   I knew then that I was about to lose control. The pressure in my chest grew stronger and my head got hotter. I gave her a warning as I started toward her. “You’d better shut your mouth before I really get pissed off!”

   Fear flashed across Lisa’s face as she stepped backwards to avoid me, stopping only when she felt the living room wall behind her. I stopped in front of her and slammed my fist into my other hand. The ensuing noise echoed off the bare walls and floor, only adding to Lisa’s fright. I did not have her cornered--she could have easily gotten away--but she was too terrified to move. Desperate and scared, she asked me, “Why are you acting like this? You’ve changed into a psychopath.”

  “Say one more word,” I told her, “and you’re going to get hit.”

  “Go ahead!” she screamed. “Go ahead and hit me, you son of a bitch!”

   The pressure in my chest grew stronger and the dark emotion got darker. I closed my right hand into a fist and tightened the muscles in my arm. As I drew my arm back for the first punch, I saw her face turn white with fear. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, but still she did not try to escape. My arm pulled back and locked into place like a catapult ready to strike. My muscles tightened like steel springs about to deliver the blow that would shatter Lisa’s jaw and knock out her teeth. In my subconscious mind the blackness of a dark and evil emotion laughed at the sight of that frightened girl; even at the thought of demolishing the jawbone of the woman I loved. But wait, the love was in the past. I hated her now, didn’t I?

  Then a strange thing happened. As the steel springs released and the catapult delivered its mighty payload, it suddenly changed direction and hit not Lisa’s face but the section of wall beside her. The weak plaster split with a dull thud as my powerful fist broke through it. The blackness of hatred within had been momentarily brightened by the light of another emotion, the same one that had wanted to comfort Lisa and dry her tears. But then the blackness took over again and my compassion was pushed aside. Just as I had feared and anticipated, my anger exploded. With my sense of reason clouded and my vision blurred, I could not see what was happening, nor did I know what I was doing. In a violent and explosive fury, I threw punch after punch at the wall, smashing large holes in the surface each time my fists made contact. Pieces of plaster amid clouds of dust fell to the floor at my feet.

  My destructive wrath lasted no more than several long seconds when I stopped; my fury spent but not fully exhausted. The blackness in my mind drove me to turn on Lisa, but she had retreated into the bedroom with the door closed behind her. I almost laughed out loud; for if she had stayed in the bedroom in the first place, this incident would not have happened.

   I opened the door and looked in. Lisa composed herself and reached under the bed for the baseball bat I kept there for home-defense. She held it in both hands and readied herself to swing it at me if I came any closer. Did she actually think it would protect her from me? We both knew she did not have the courage to hit me with it. The situation was getting too intense for me to handle, and I knew I had better get away from that place before I did anymore damage--either to the walls or to Lisa. I grabbed my car keys from atop the dresser and headed for the front door. I never looked back to see what Lisa would do after I left. At that point, I did not care.

   In the dark parking lot outside my apartment, I got into my blue and white 1978 Camaro and started the engine, which turned over with a loud roar. I floored the gas pedal and tore out, and the back tires squealed as the heavy car shot out onto the road. The acrid odor of burnt rubber stung my nostrils through the open window, and I welcomed the sour smell. For a few brief moments it sobered my senses of the anger burning though my head.

   As my car picked up speed, I felt the powerful engine rumbling on its mounting, causing the entire car to vibrate. That was how my car earned its affectionate nickname, “The Beast.”  While other men claimed that their engines purred like a kitten, I was proud to say that my “Beast” roared like a lion. In a way, the sound and vibration helped me to relax--massaging my aching muscles as well as taking my mind off of what happened earlier. The icy cold wind striking my face from the open window helped to cool my steaming head. I drove toward the beach, a place I often went to be alone and think things over. The sound and smells of the ocean at night, as well as the privacy the night provided, always helped to distance my thoughts from that which troubled me. I only lived about twenty minutes from the ocean, but tonight I decided to get on the highway and take the long way to the beach.

    While my mind swam with scenes from my fight with Lisa, I was oblivious to my surroundings, not to mention the Beast’s enormous rate of speed. On both sides of the road, trees and streetlights streaked past in a winding blur. The dotted line between the lanes appeared as one continuous line. I drove for a long time while I thought about Lisa, the girl I once thought I loved. Tonight’s fight was not our first, but it was the worst. It was the first time I ever lost control of my temper with such violent results. Lisa was lucky I hit the wall instead of her.

   I first met Lisa Christina Rose a little over two years ago, when I was the guitarist and chief songwriter in a four-man rock group called “Black Rose.”  My band mates and I had been performing in one particular club when I spotted her on the dance floor with her friends. We met, we dated, we fell in love--and that was the beginning of the end. We’ve been going steady for two years now, and living together for one. Although I consider the first year and a half of our relationship to be the happiest year of my life, our last seven months together have been hell on earth. She argues with me often; nagging me for this, that, and everything else, and has no appreciation for anything I do for her. She’s like a rabid dog, biting the hand that feeds it. She yells when I go to the track to bet on the races, just because I lost money a few times. Then she expects things from me that she knows I can’t afford. Doesn’t she realize that I only gamble to try to win more, to buy her food and furniture to make her happy?

    Another one of her complaints is the amount of beer I drink; but do I complain about the orange juice and health foods she always eats? No, of course not. What angers me most of all is the way she persistently pressures me to marry her. Why won’t she get off my back already? She acts like I owe her something. Funny, I don’t remember signing a contract when she moved in. Maybe she should have listened to her parents when they told her not to leave their home.

   I’ll tell you, I miss the good old days before I let myself get tied down. Back then I was free, a swinging bachelor with no commitments and no one to answer to. I had my friends and my band--and together we had our dreams--and that was all I needed to get me by. For three years we put everything we had into Black Rose, doing what we enjoyed most while struggling to break out of the club circuit and secure the prized record deal that seemed to elude us. Our world came crashing down on us about seven months ago when Lisa somehow caused Black Rose to break up. I’m not sure how she managed it, but somehow she was responsible for my life-long goal disintegrating. She must enjoy watching my dreams shatter while she makes my life miserable.

      About twelve-thirty...

  The white sand of the Naples beach seemed to glow in the light of a full moon. That same light reflected off of the ocean, resulting in a carpet of shining wave crests that rolled out from the horizon toward the beach. I walked across the sand toward the moonlit water, and with each step I took my boots sank into the soft sand. I must have looked like a duck from the way I walked, wobbling to and fro while trying to obtain a solid footing. I stopped about twenty-five feet from the waterline and sat down; then I closed my eyes and relaxed. The pressure in my head and chest had subsided and my anger had cooled. At last I could clear my mind and think clearly. I thought about my girlfriend, about our first meeting in that rock club two years ago.

    I remember being enthralled by her beauty, so much so that I found myself speechless when I tried to talk to her. From head to foot she was perfect in every way; a vision of pure and wholesome loveliness. Light-brown freckles covered her fair-skinned face; her angelic features displaying blue eyes that were intense in their captivating brightness. Long reddish brown hair covered her head and shoulders, stretching down to the middle of her back. Her face was clean and uncovered by foreign substances. She never wore make-up; she never needed to. She was gorgeous without it. Her slim legs were strong--the legs of a dancer. The dance classes she attended reflected in the way she moved while on the dance floor; fast, yet graceful, interesting to watch, and seemingly untiring. When I bought her a drink at the bar, I had a beer and she had a Pina Colada without alcohol--she was obviously not a drinker, and through all the time that I knew her she never drank alcohol.

    Her soft and lovely features radiated a sense of freshness, an eagerness for life and happiness. I think that was why--also due to her red hair--I told her that she reminded me of roses. Imagine my surprise when she revealed that her last name actually was Rose! So there I was, the leader of Black Rose, sitting with Lisa Rose, who symbolized the exact opposite of everything my band represented and stood for. I’ll explain that in more detail later in my story, but allow me to return to Lisa Christina Rose and my developing feelings for her. We began dating and grew very close very quickly. In time I realized that I liked her more than any other girl I had ever known, and our relationship soon blossomed into love.

  Whatever. To hell with her beliefs.

  When Lisa turned nineteen, I finally convinced her to leave her parent’s house and move in with me. Her parents tried to talk her out of it, reminding her that God would be displeased with her choice. It was wrong, they told her; and for a time she had felt uncomfortable defying them. She told me that we would be “living in sin,” but I told her that as soon as we got married she would feel better about it. We were very much in love back then. I promised her a life of excitement and joy, and together we looked ahead to a future of marriage and a family. Our lives should have been perfect after that. What I don’t understand is: what happened, why did Lisa change? How did she change?

    I sat up straight and gazed at the night sky. Outside the glow of the full moon there were no stars, only total and complete blackness. A thought occurred to me…

  “The blackness of death,” I said aloud, though there was no one around to hear me.

  “The eternal darkness where there is no light,” another voice said from beside me, “much like the darkness in your own soul.”

   I nearly jumped out of my skin. There was a woman sitting beside me, and I hadn’t noticed her until now!

  “Who the hell are you?” I exclaimed as I jumped to my feet.

  “Like many others,” she said, “you have come to this beach to stare at the dark sky and contemplate the emptiness in your heart. That is why I am here.”  She gestured to where I had been sitting. “Please, sit. Perhaps I can help you.” 

   She was a beautiful woman with long dark hair, smooth creamy skin, and green eyes that seemed to glow in the moonlight. She wore sneakers, sweat pants, and an off-white T-shirt. I asked her name.

  “My name is Leila,” she said softly. Her voice was as smooth as the ocean breeze.

    I had no idea why I did not see or hear her until now, but I was captivated by her presence. So much so, that I did not want to leave. I was not attracted to her, you understand, even despite her beauty; for as much as I hated Lisa I knew I could not cheat on her. Even if I wanted to engage in a one-night stand with that strange woman, I somehow knew that it was not her purpose here. So I sat down again beside her, very much intrigued in what her purpose was.

   “I didn’t hear you until now,” I told her. “Where in the world did you come from?”

   “At this time I am in the world, but I am not of the world. I am here for a purpose, just as you are. Who I am at this time is not important. What is important is who you are.”

   “My name is David,” I told her. “Dave Monaco.”

    She got right to the point. “Are you in love, David?”

    I shook my head. “I used to think I was, but the girl I thought I loved is not the girl I thought she was. I can’t make sense out of it, because I’m not quite sure how she’s changed. What I do know is that she took away everything I lived for. My band, my goals, my friends, the parties we used to have; the life I had. It didn’t happen all of a sudden, but over the past year she managed to distance me from the things I depended on. Now I have nothing to live for.”

   Leila watched me intently; her smile so warm, her expression so compassionate. “Did she also take away your faith in God?”

   “Hell no,” I said abruptly. “I never had any faith in God. I mean, who needs him, anyway? He never did anything for me. Lisa is the religious type--although she says it’s not religion that she has, but faith--and prays every night. For the past year she’s been trying to get me to read her bible and go to church with her, but I have no interest in that Jesus stuff. Why is it so important that I know God? I think that if he wanted me to know him, he would make himself known to me. He’s certainly never been around when I needed him.”

    Leila’s smile was momentarily gone as she told me in a serious voice: “You just used His name in vain to express your anger, just as you have before. In the past you have spoken of Him with abhorrence and disrespect, thereby rejecting Him.”

    I thought it strange that she spoke as if she had known me before that night, but how could she have known about my past? 

   Leila continued with: “The Lord has always been near you, only waiting for you to call upon Him in your time of need. Seek Him out, and He will make Himself known to you.”

   What did I get myself into now? I came here to be alone and pity myself, but now I was sitting next to one of those crazy born-again Christians like Lisa and her parents.

  “Your heart is filled with darkness, David, and your soul is tormented by the blackness of death. Choose life, not death, so that all may go well with you. The Lord Jesus is the Prince of Peace, and He is the giver of life. Eternal life is attained through atonement by His blood, shed for all sinners--because all are sinners--and is freely given to all who put their faith in Him. God is love, and He offers life. Unfortunately, in your past, you had been turned so far from His path that you knew not life and love, but only death and the hatred therein. Lisa’s love for God is sincere, and her faith is strong. Also strong is her love for you; and it is because of that love that she has not left you already. She has tried hard to reveal the truth of God’s love for you.”

    My mind swirled with confusion. How did she know so much about Lisa, and how did she know of the blackness in my heart and soul? For some reason I did not ask her, and for the same reason I could not pull myself away from her presence.

    “Life,” I said almost comically. “I never cared much about it. I was always fascinated by death. I wrote songs about things like murder…the pain of dying. That’s how I came up with the name ‘Black Rose’ for my band; a name conjured up from the dark recesses of my own macabre mentality. The color black, and the black rose itself, symbolizes death. We played death songs, but people still liked us. That band was my life; it kept me going. We wrote, we dreamed, we struggled...”

   “You did drugs,” Leila added.

   “Yeah, we did drugs,” I agreed somberly.

   “You subconsciously wanted to kill yourself.”

    I shook my head resolutely. “No I didn’t.”  But I had, and she knew it. I don’t know how, but she did.

   “And then you met Lisa, and she ruined everything for you. How did she cause Black Rose to break up? Do you remember?”

    I suddenly got the feeling that Leila already knew the answer. I sensed that she knew beforehand the answer to every question she asked me. So why did she bother asking; unless to get me to ponder them and answer them for myself?

   “I don’t know, Leila, but she did; and I’ve been miserable ever since.”

   “Were you happy before Black Rose broke up?”

   “Yes, but only when Lisa and I were together. She made me feel good about myself. She made me feel like life was actually worth living, because she gave me comfort and joy that I had never known before. She pushed me to quit drugs, and when I went through withdrawal she was there for me. When Black Rose broke up and I cried like a baby, she was there. When I had too much to drink and survived a collision with a tree, she was there. She was always there for me, but when she pushed me to stop drinking and turn my life over to Jesus, I pushed her away. I did not want God in my life, and I didn’t want to turn from my path.”

   “But how did she cause Black Rose to break up? You already know the answer, David.”

   “She became a distraction to me. Whenever I talked about the band and our songs, she changed the subject; she told me she didn’t want me to think about the grim things I wrote about. Before long I couldn’t even write my songs anymore. The ideas just wouldn’t come to my mind, and even when they did, I had trouble putting them on paper. How could I focus on them when she was such a distraction?”

    “So what she did then, was make you so happy that you could no longer produce the kind of negativity that your band thrived and existed on. You could no longer write songs about death because you were too happy with your life. Correct?”

  “Huh? What do you…”

  My voice trailed off as I tried to make sense of Leila’s statement. What was she leading up to? What was she trying to make me comprehend?

    Then...realization and understanding hit me in a winding blur. Lisa did nothing but help me! She was a heaven-sent carrier of joy, who tried to turn my life around, and brought a small amount of meaning into my troubled heart. Before falling in love with her I hated life. I took drugs because there was nothing better to do. I wrote songs about what I wanted: I wanted to die. She brightened the darkness of my self-hatred and gave me a reason to live. Leila was right; subconsciously I had wanted to kill myself, and Lisa gave me a reason not to. After Black Rose broke up, however, I fell into a deep depression and reverted back to the person Lisa had tried so hard to change. Once again I had fallen prey to the blackness.

   A terrible feeling of guilt overcame me as I remembered how badly I have treated Lisa over the past seven months. I was hostile toward her on numerous occasions; I lost my temper quickly, and I blamed her for things that were not her fault. Lisa was not my enemy, I was. I had been battling my subconscious mind all along, allowing the blackness to control me without my realizing it. The darkness of self-hatred inside me had actually become stronger than my love for Lisa, and as a result I let the blackness control my actions. Now I understood why I felt that dark emotion during my fight with Lisa, why the blackness had returned, and why it wanted to hurt her. The blackness blamed her for breaking up the band because it itself wanted to die, and she had saved me. It also despised her because of her efforts to turn me to Jesus, who Leila said was the giver of life.

   I looked out at the ocean for a moment before turning back to Leila. “I despised Lisa because I felt tied down and boxed in, trapped in a relationship that the blackness did not want me to be in. That was why I became restless and scared when she told me she was pregnant. I was afraid that if she had the baby I would be chained to her for life.”

  “But wasn’t that your intention when you convinced her to defy her parents and move in with you?”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “Except that you hate her now.”  Her words were uncharacteristically cold, and they elicited an immediate response from me.

   “No, Leila. I don’t hate her and I never did. I could never be happy with anybody else. I love her more than anything else in the world, and I want to do what’s right and marry her.”

    “Because she is carrying your baby?”

   “Because she’s carrying our baby, mine and hers. In Black Rose I created an atmosphere of death, but through Lisa Rose I created a life!”

    I stood up and Leila stood with me. I brushed the sand off of my legs and back. Then I faced the ocean and screamed out at the blackness.

    “Now I know what you are. Now I can fight you. You won’t ruin our lives anymore, and you won’t keep us apart! You’ve lost this battle!”  I was not only yelling out to sea, I was yelling at the blackness in my soul. I felt somewhat at peace, but I also knew that there was still a small measure of the blackness lurking in my soul. Who could possibly help me to get rid of it completely?

   Leila put her hand on my arm and gave me the same warm smile as before. “I am happy for you, David. It was a long struggle but you finally came to terms with yourself.” 

   “And you helped me,” I told her. “I don’t think I could have done it without you.”

    She shook her head with a knowing smile. “It was not I but the one who sent me.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, confused.

   She guided me toward where my car was parked and stood behind me, urging me forward with her hand on my back.

   “Go home now, David. Go home to your Lisa. Go home and tell her of your love for her and your daughter.”

   It was not until later before I wondered how she knew that I would have a daughter. She seemed to know everything about me, past, present, and future. I turned my head to ask her a question. “What about you, Leila? Do you have a spouse to go home to?”

    It was at that exact moment that I noticed her hand on my back was gone, and when I spun around to question her last remark, she was gone as well. I glanced everywhere but she was nowhere to be seen. It was impossible. How could she have disappeared? Had I imagined our whole conversation?

  During the ride home a terrible image burned through my mind. Lisa must believe now that I hate her. What if, after my violent outburst, she decided life was not worth living and committed suicide after I left? What if my Lisa opened her artery with a razor and bled to death? Guilt and anger filled my mind as I drove even faster to get home. If she had killed herself, then the damned blackness will have gotten what it wanted. I wondered what color roses would be at her funeral; black? I despise the black rose. I despise black. I never want to see another black rose as long as I live. The band Black Rose died seven months ago. So be it; may it rest in peace. Black Rose is death, ugly and morbid. Lisa Rose is life, beauty, and happiness. If Lisa is alive, then I’ll buy her two-dozen roses every night--a dozen red and a dozen white. But what if she was not alive? I shuddered at the thought.

    As I parked in front of the apartment I noticed that the bedroom light was on. I hoped that it meant she was alive. I stopped before I reached the door. What if I found her lying on the bed, her wrists slashed open, her body cold and pale, the mattress and floor soaked with her blood? I was frantic to go inside to be sure she was safe, but at the same time I was desperately afraid of what I might find there. I thought about what Leila told me, about the one who sent her, and for some unknown reason I dropped to my knees. I stayed in that position for several long moments before I spoke, and when I did, I did something I had never expected to do, I prayed.

   “I’ve never called on you before, I never wanted to. I didn’t think I would ever need you, but I desperately need you now. Help me, Lord. Help me overcome the blackness and win my Lisa back.” 

   I stood up and rushed inside. The clock on the wall told me that it was a quarter past five in the morning. I found it hard to believe that I had been at the beach for that long. The mess I made out of the living room wall greeted me but I paid no attention to it. All that mattered was whether or not Lisa was okay. I went into the bedroom and saw her standing over the bed, packing her clothes in a suitcase. Apparently she had cried herself to sleep, and upon waking, had decided to pack up and get out before I came home. I was relieved to see her alive and well, but I knew that I had ruined everything by letting the blackness control me.

   “You’re not leaving me,” I said, sounding somewhat childish. “You can’t leave me!”

    The baseball bat was on the bed, and she stayed within easy reach of it. “Oh yeah? Watch me! I’m going back to my parent’s house.”

    “Lisa, you know that if you do they’ll never stop telling you they told you so.”

    “Maybe they were right and I should have listened to them instead of you. At least they never lied to me or tried to hit me.”

    I took a step closer to her, and she reached for the bat. She held it loosely in one hand. I knew she did not want to hit me, but after my destructive wrath earlier she was afraid of what I might do to her.

   “Please, Lisa, at least listen to me. I love you more than anything.”  I was desperate and I sounded it.

   “You’re a liar!” she snapped. “You never loved me!”

   “The only person I lied to was myself. Look, I’m sorry for what I did last night, and for everything I’ve said over the past seven months. I was wrong to treat you the way I did. Please forgive me.”

    She dropped the bat on the bed and folded one arm over the other across her chest. “You really are a sick maniac. If you didn’t want to hurt me, why did you threaten to smash me from wall to wall? I’m lucky you missed and hit the wall instead of me.”

     I told her that I missed on purpose, but she did not believe me. I don’t blame her.

    “You claim to love me,” she continued, “but I won’t forget that you wanted me to murder our child. If you hate me so much you should have told me a long time ago. I would have moved out and made both of our lives happier. You’ve treated me like garbage ever since your band broke up, and I won’t live like this anymore. I won’t let you hurt me again.”

    “I’ve never hurt you, Lisa; at least not physically…”

    “You would have last night if I hadn’t ducked out of the way.”

   “You didn’t duck, Lisa, you didn’t even move. What I did last night was wrong. I know that. I just lost my temper and went out of control--it was a momentary loss of sanity. But if I truly wanted to hit you I would not have missed.”  I wanted so much for her to understand without actually telling her about the blackness. I did not want her to know about the dark aspect of my subconscious mind.

    She looked confused, as if she wanted to believe me but was still skeptical. “If that was true, then why did you keep hitting the wall? Why didn’t you stop after the first punch?”

    “I couldn’t help it,” I explained. “I had to purge my anger.”

    She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t want to hear this.”  She picked up the phone to call a taxi, but after putting it to her ear slammed it down again. “It’s disconnected!”

    “Why?”

   “Because after I paid the rent I didn’t have enough left over to pay the phone bill. If you had given me your paycheck instead of gambling it away, we would have a phone right now.”  Under her breath she muttered, “We’d have a lot of things right now if I wasn’t the only one trying to use her paycheck for necessities.”

    She picked up her suitcase and headed for the bedroom door. I was standing in the doorway, so she would have to wait for me to move aside. “What are you going to do?” I asked her, “Hitchhike to your parent’s house?”

    She refused to answer, and I did not move from my position. She stood in front of me and folded one arm over the other and tapped her foot to indicate that she was waiting for me to move. She had left the bat on the bed, but she looked just as imposing without it. Now it was she who was in the superior position, even at a foot shorter than me, and I was pleading like a child for her to give me another chance.

    “Why should I give you another chance? So you can break my heart all over again? You’ve hurt me time and time again. True, not physically, but emotionally.” She put her hand over her heart to indicate her pain. “You don’t respect me, you never tell me you love me, and I can’t remember the last time you did anything nice for me. You’ve been blaming me for Black Rose’s break up, but it wasn’t my fault. I don’t deserve to be treated the way you treat me, David.

   “So maybe my parents will say ‘I told you so’. Maybe I deserve to hear that for defying them and defying God. At least if I live with them I’ll get the love and respect that I deserve. When I found out I was pregnant yesterday I was overjoyed, and I thought you would be thrilled too. I thought it would change things for us; that it would bring us together again. I was wrong. You made it perfectly clear that you hate me and wish I was dead.”

   She was crying again, and I felt like crying myself. I realized that I had hurt her even more than I thought. I knew also that the intentions of the blackness had been made known to her. She stepped backwards and sat down on the bed, too emotionally drained to try to leave. I got down on my knees and took her hands in my own. I was surprised that she allowed me to.

   “I don’t hate you, Lisa, honest to God I don’t. When I left last night, I went to the beach to think things over, and I did a lot of soul-searching.”  I fumbled through my next statement, unsure of how to explain my conversation with the mysterious Leila. “I met a...I encountered a...I had a very strange experience, let’s leave it at that.”  I now had my suspicions as to what Leila really was, but at this point I did not want Lisa to think I had gone off the deep end. “I’m a completely different person than I was six hours ago. I searched the depths of my heart and saw some things I didn’t expect to see; even some I did not want to see. The one thing that I saw most of all, which you haven’t seen enough of, was my love for you. I managed to uncover a few secrets from within myself, and I know now how to beat my problems.”

   I wiped her tears away. More tears followed. I continued. “Ever since Black Rose broke up I’ve felt useless, like a failure; and I’ve been fighting myself and taking it out on you. The band did break up because of you, Lisa, but that’s only because you gave my life meaning; you gave me something to live for. When that happened I lost interest in the path the band was taking me. Before we fell in love I spent all my time high and thinking about death. If you hadn’t intervened, I would have overdosed or killed myself by now. You saved my life, baby, and I’ve been lying to myself because it took me seven months to realize that.”

    Lisa’s hands squeezed mine as her falling tears splashed on my knuckles. She looked down at our hands, too confused and uncertain to look me in the eyes. I put my hand under her chin and raised it until her eyes met mine. I smiled and she smiled back, although she did so with hesitation.

    “I love you, Lisa Christina Rose, and I don’t want to lose you. When you first moved in I promised you a rose garden, but the only roses I’ve given you are black. The black rose is death. From now on the only roses I want to give you are red and white. The red rose is love; the love we have for each other. The white rose is life...” I put my hand on her stomach, “...the life inside of you; our life.”

    I clutched both her hands. “I want to marry you, baby. Let’s do it as soon as possible and nothing will ever come between us again. Let’s tie the knot and join together as one in the eyes of God. We’ll have our daughter, and we’ll be a family.”

    She sniffled and pushed her hair back behind her head. Then she looked into my eyes with those bright blue eyes of hers and gave me a warm smile.

    “How do you know it will be a girl?”

     I was not sure how to answer. I think it was something Leila had told me before she disappeared.

    “I’m going to be a good husband and father,” I told her instead. “I won’t go to the track anymore, never again. When I get my paycheck I’ll come right home and give it to you. You’ll know how to spend it more beneficially than I will.”

   “Will you go to an alcohol-rehab program?”

   “Absolutely,” I promised. “Anything I can do to solve my problems and keep us together, I’ll do. I’m going to get a better job as well, and make enough money to get us out of this apartment. I don’t want our daughter to grow up in this sleazy dive. I just need to know that you’ll forgive me and stay with me.”

    She started to cry again, but this time it was tears of joy. “I love you, Dave!”  She threw her arms around me and held me tight.

    I kissed her tender lips and held her in my arms as we sat on the floor together. I knew right then and there that as long as I stood up like a man and put my trust in God, nothing would stop me from achieving what I wanted in life; not even the blackness. At that point, there was so much love in my heart that there was no room for the blackness to survive. I got to my feet and picked Lisa up in my arms.

   “I feel an urge for a large glass of orange juice,” I told her. “What about you?”

    She rested her head on my shoulder. “I could certainly go for one of those.”

    On the way to the kitchen I stopped to inspect the damage I had done to the wall. Lisa commented, “When the landlord finds out about this we’ll be out on the street.”

   “I’ll fix it myself,” I told her. “It’s only plywood. As long as the mess between us is cleaned up, I’m not worried about anything else.”

    She gazed into my eyes the same way she had during our fight, but this time she saw warmth and love instead of the cold steel she had seen before. “You’ll never lose me, my darling,” she assured me. “The angels in heaven know we belong together.”

    “They sure do,” I agreed, “including one named Leila.”

    “Who?”

    “It’s a long story, and one day I’ll tell you all about it. Something incredible happened this morning, but like you always say: God sometimes does incredible things.”

    I let her out of my arms and she stayed close to me. We kissed and held each other for a long time. I gazed out the living room window into the early dawn. Red, yellow, and orange light crept up from the horizon and flooded the sky. A similar scene played out in my heart. Like the sun in the sky, the Son was rising and the blackness was gone.

  That was three years ago. Since then our lives have changed considerably. Lisa and I were married soon after, and we’ve been living in a new apartment for the past two years. I went to rehab, and with Lisa’s continued support I finally quit drinking two and a half years ago. I also met new friends and started a new band. I named that one “White Rose,” and you know what that means, don’t you?

   Soon after my miraculous encounter with the angel Leila, I asked Lisa to help me find my way to God through faith, and she showed me her bible and the word of God. After years of rejecting Him, I finally heard Him knocking at the door to my heart. I opened it and invited Him in, and He has been with me ever since, comforting me and a guiding me through the perils of life. Can you believe it? I actually became a believer in God. Me, a non-believer, became a man of faith. Who would have thought?

    I left my old job for a better paying one, and I now earn enough money to take care of my family like a husband and father should. I bought furniture and a car for Lisa, and I’ve been putting money away for a special somebody’s college education. But material items are not the cause of our happiness, our love for each other is.

   And the biggest joy of our life? Our biggest joy is our two and a half-year old daughter; a blessing from God, and a reminder to me that life is too precious to be simply discarded. I think of her as a miracle in motion, a result of divine intervention that convinced me of how wonderful life truly is. If she had been aborted like I originally wanted, three lives would have been taken away; not only hers, but Lisa’s and mine--the life that we cherish with her in it. We gave her life, and she gave us ours. Sweet and adorable, with red hair like her mother, she resembles Lisa in every way. Her name is Rosalie Monaco. Lisa and I call her “Rose” for short.