Garden of May

River Ross’s ‘outing’ was dragging on longer than expected. More than a week had passed since the day he’d promised to return, and still, he had not come back. Every morning, Vanessa asked Mary if any letters had arrived for her, lingered needlessly by the telephone, or scanned the newspapers for any articles about naval accidents.

At first, she had been merely upset that he had missed their promised date. After about three days, worry began to take precedence. Once a full week had passed, she resolved to start adapting to his absence.

Perhaps River Ross never intended to return at all. Just as soldiers so often forget the lovers they leave behind.

Vanessa scooped up Dahlia, who was tugging at her skirts demanding to be played with, and went down to the rose garden. Shrouded in the dawn mist, the garden felt desolate, yet it was also lush with a strange vitality. The heather bushes, which had since grown knee-high, vied to bloom in beautiful shades of violet, and water birds, flown in from the nearby river, perched on the branches, chirping.

She picked up a pair of late-summer roses, drooping under the weight of the morning dew. Dahlia shoved her damp nose forward to sniff them, snuffled, and then sneezed.

Vanessa sat on the old chair placed next to the shed. She had wondered if, by some miracle, she might sense his presence here, but it was a futile hope.

“Shall I put you down?”

Having apparently caught an interesting scent, Dahlia craned her neck and squirmed, so Vanessa carefully lowered her to the ground. Watching the dog bound through the weeds and roll over several times, Vanessa figured she would be a happily muddy mess by noon.

The smile on Vanessa’s face, which had formed while watching Dahlia play, gradually faded.

If he really has left for good, would he have taken all his belongings?

There were ways to find out, if she truly wanted to know. She could simply open the shed door. That would be enough to tell her whether he had left for good, or if he merely intended to return later.

River Ross kept the shed key hanging in the key box, almost defiantly, as if he couldn’t care less if someone opened the door and stole everything he owned. Vanessa stared at the key box, conflicted, then shook her head.

But he might still come back.

If it were nothing but an empty ruin, she would have no reservations. But this shed was still River Ross’s private space. She couldn’t just barge in and rummage through his things, not when he wasn’t even here. Even in the closest relationships, courtesy and respect were necessary.

Or perhaps I just want to deny it—the possibility that River Ross might have left without a word.

Vanessa swallowed the self-mocking thought that rose in her throat. In any case, this messy sentimentality and avoidance would end today.

If he didn’t contact her by this evening—or, at the latest, by the time the sun rose tomorrow… Vanessa let out a deep sigh.

Then I will have to respect his decision. It would mean he no longer wishes to see me.

Vanessa rested her elbows on the chair’s armrests and cupped her chin in her hands. Her distant gaze fell on the white-painted shed. That space, abandoned for so long, had undergone several transformations at River Ross’s hands, and had now been reborn as a rather cozy sanctuary.

A building left unused by people was bound to fall into disrepair quickly. And Vanessa hoped, very much, that this place would remain a warm, welcoming space for a long, long time.

After he’s gone, perhaps I could turn the inside into a writing room?

Even if their ending proved to be an improper one, the place itself was blameless. In fact, Vanessa was confident she could continue to love it—to love River Ross, the memory of her twentieth year, and this garden in May…

She intended to cherish her memories here, alone and to her heart’s content. After all, yearning for and loving someone in private was an act that harmed no one.

Woof! Woof woof!

Dahlia, who had been chasing insects in the grass, suddenly perked up her ears. She went rigid and barked. Then, Vanessa caught a glimpse of her charging off valiantly, as if to drive away an intruder.

Vanessa kept her gaze fixed on her lap, waiting for the sound of the presence to either draw closer or fade away entirely.

The sound of steady footsteps stopped just as the familiar toe of a man’s shoe entered the periphery of her vision. Above it, his long shadow fell over her, blocking the sun like an awning.

“Vanessa.”