Four years ago, I poisoned roses with love. They paid me back by cursing me, and I am still under their spell.

~~    –    ~~

My first boyfriend’s name was Jess. We were a modern-day Romeo and Juliet, sans death of course. 

 

He was a Junior in high school, I was a freshman. He was at the bottom of his class, I was at the top of mine. He was allowed to date, and I…was not. 

 

While people eyed us for the age and grade difference, it never bothered us because we were synced. 

 

We made the same puns and ranted about our imaginary universes. We encouraged each other no matter what our goals were. We had the same enemies and the same friends. We allowed each other to be our true selves.

 

When we looked at each other, the edges of our mouths slightly curved up and our eyes glimmered. We tilted our heads to send little signals to each other from across the room, a slight turn signaling concentrated levels of “I miss you”, “I love you”. Sitting next to each other, we craved touch, a hand hold, a head lean, a cheek pinch.

 

He meant a lot to me, and I no longer wanted to hide him from the most important people in my life, my parents. 

 

One night, I went out to eat with my mom. Before leaving the car, I sneaked him a “it’s happening” text and followed my mom into the restaurant. As our food was being served, my stomach flopped. 

 

How was I going to say it? How was she going to react? Would my relationship work? Would it be over? My heart raced and my face flushed. I braced myself and spoke. 

 

Mom. Mom I have something to tell you.

Oh my God, why are you so red?

 

Mom, I like someone.

Oh?

 

Yea. He’s…He’s a really sweet guy. Funny. Respectful.…He’s a junior.

Oh.

 

I know I’m not allowed to date, but I wanted to tell you. I really like him.

Ok.

 

An Ok, that Ok, meant a lot.

Ok, I recognize your feelings for him. Ok, don’t worry about it. Ok, we’ll evaluate the situation. Ok, maybe…just maybe…you can date him.

 

I was elated. I finished my meal and smiled at her as we walked out of the restaurant. The conversation on the car ride home was filled with hesitant, cautious questions about my love interest. 

 

How did you meet him? 

In the cafeteria. 

Truth.

 

How old is he? 

Sixteen, his birthday is in June. 

Truth.

 

Do you have his number? 

Yes, he gave me it a few weeks ago. 

Lie.

 

While I was asking my parents for permission to see Jess, we were already dating. We already lamely texted each other “How’s your day been?” , “I miss you.”, and “I can’t stop thinking about you.” We were already close.

 

A lie by omission is still a lie.

 

One night, my parents took my phone. They were going to go through our messages to evaluate if we could go on a date. That night, they realized we started dating two months prior. They were furious that I, the daughter they raised to be honest and respectful, stabbed them in the back and lied to them. They recognized me as a snake in the grass and promptly cut my head off. 

 

They took my phone away for a month. They told me to break up with him. They threatened to have me switch schools. 

 

Their hearts broke, and mine did too. 

 

The next day, I cried to Jess, telling him that we needed to break up, but he objected, saying that he wasn’t going to give up. Instead, in a dark time for us, he filled himself with strength, compassion, and optimism. It made me like him even more. 

 

One day, while switching classes, he slipped a note into my hand. On the folded sheet, he scribbled, “One day, the star-crossed lovers met again”, a continuation of an embarrassing play I dedicated to him while we were dating. 

 

He was my Romeo. I was his Juliet. We were determined to make our relationship work.

 

We wrote daily letters to each other, telling each other about our days and confessing how much we missed each other. We rolled our letters like scrolls and threw rose petals inside as secret surprises. Our traded love letters filled us with hope and warmth.

 

My parents, seeing how we sent sweet notes to each other, warmed up to Jess. They asked me how he was doing. They asked me about his life, his plans, his dreams. They asked me if I wanted to date him again.

 

Eventually, I got my phone back, and we were allowed to contact each other. We were allowed to go to the movies, and I was allowed to go with him to the mall to help him pick out a suit for church. Eventually, Jess came over to my house and had a meal with my family.

 

One day, I was at a gardening shop with my mom; she wanted me to pick a flower to add to her garden. After walking around the rows of various breeds and hybrids, I stopped in front of a pot of beautiful blooming red roses. I saw them as my own set of enchanted roses, signifying my love for Jess. My mom bought the roses for me, and on the drive home, as I eyed them, I saw Jess smiling back. These roses were ours and looking at them made my heart flutter.

 

For an entire summer, I sat in front of my house, looking directly at our roses as I talked to Jess on the phone. We were both going through a lot, separate family tragedies and separate struggles, but we always came together to share our pain and make it seem manageable and light. We gave each other hope in times filled with death, fights, and struggles, and we were grateful for each other. While we talked, smiles on both ends of the line, I saw our roses bloom bigger, brighter, and redder than before. 

 

I would take pictures of the roses and send them to Jess. 

 

Thinking of you.

I miss you. 

You are the rose; you’re smiling at me. 

I love you. 

 

I won’t deny that it was a cheesy relationship; our anniversary was April Fool’s day. Nonetheless, it was a beautiful relationship. I learned a lot about myself romantically and emotionally. I learned about open communication and letting myself be vulnerable to others. I learned to be honest with myself and with others, and while our journey wasn’t seamless, especially in the beginning, I was grateful for it because it helped me blossom into a butterfly. But, even at a certain point, all butterflies must fly away.

 

Natalia, when I talk to you, you never mention me in your future. 

 

Natalia, you…you seem a little distant. Is everything Ok?

 

Natalia, you haven’t told me you loved me in a while.

 

I couldn’t say it because I didn’t think I did anymore. I couldn’t get close to him because I didn’t know if I wanted to continue our connection. I couldn’t see a future with him, because I knew my dreams far surpassed our high school, our city, and our closed-off worlds. 

 

I reached a point where the hormones were losing their grasp on me, and I was forced to face reality. I wanted to explore the world, I wanted to study law, and I wanted to go to Yale University. These were my dreams. While I deeply cared for Jess, the more we talked, the more I realized that our lifestyles would soon be asynchronous. I knew that I was already buckled in for a rollercoaster of a journey, and I didn’t know if he could even fit in the seat, let alone bear the ride. Instead of trying to take him along with me, I knew it would be best to drop the connection where it stood, where my dreams shined the brightest.

 

Our roses turned darker. The petals slowly shriveled up and wilted away. They filled me with dread, and I grew restless from dragging our dying connection along. My porch, filled with dead petals, reminded me of my dead feelings for Jess. I couldn’t take it anymore, and I broke up with him. 

 

I wondered what “our roses” meant without him. Was there any way they could simply be my roses? Quite possibly. But I didn’t want them to be. I’d rather they die completely and allow me to create a new chapter in my life.

 

Even though I tried to kill them off, the roses endure. As new feelings of affection flutter in my heart, pregnant red bulbs parade my every emotion.  

 

“Our roses” were “my roses” all along.

 

I told my mom about my enchanted roses. She laughed, but a year ago she called me at college.

 

Natalia! Who do you have a crush on? I know everything.

 

She was joking, but I blushed on the other end. 

 

Those damn roses.

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Jess is a pseudonym for my ex boyfriend. I chose Jess because during the duration of our relationship, I convinced him to watch my all-time binge show, Gilmore Girls. He was reluctant but ended up loving it.