Flowers Are Free
Entry by: Olivia
5th May 2017
Flowers are Free
He was always one for the big gestures. At first they were exciting, the gifts, the bouquets on her desk, the big weekends away. She was surprised at how quickly she grew bored with them. Or maybe she was bored with him? There was little substance and all show. Somehow there was no depth, no understanding of how relationships really worked, far less idea of how she might work. Their love making was the same, all show, flourish and fall short.
None of this mattered too much at the beginning, he was one of many and she didn’t have a ‘forever’ sort of mentality. ‘One day at a time’ and ‘take what you can get’ was how she lived. She thought that was his plan too. The first time he began his ‘silly stuff’ she went along with it. She was used to Ann Summers and a bit more, so she wasn’t bothered. If it got her a decent meal she could put up with it. But soon she realised she wasn’t hungry any more. It stopped being a game and she didn’t like ‘serious’ one single bit. The day he decided that wrapping her in cling film was fun was the day she told him she was out of here. She was sick of his big gestures and his vacuous thoughts. But most of all she was sick of his inability to see her as a woman, not a toy to be played with.
He begged and pleaded, but she walked. She had no interest, she said, in his rubbish. The texts began straight away and she blocked him. The bouquets arrived daily. At first she felt bad putting them in the bin, but after a week she didn’t even look at them. The phone calls at work were hard, she was determined not to let the others see that he was rattling her. The emails were long and rambling, she forwarded them, unread, to an old, unused account.
Back from work one day she smelt that he had been in her flat; she got the locks changed that evening but found sleep hard to come by. She sensed him in the street and glimpsed him everywhere. The hot coffee on her desk when she got in just freaked her and the endless take aways delivered to her flat made her shiver. Even the delivery men had stopped knocking – they just left it and ran.
She told no one – she knew what they would say. She knew that some bright spark would suggest the police and she knew too that there was no way she was ever talking to them again. The pain she had held down threatened to come up again and again. How could she tell them yet again that she was being stalked? They didn’t believe her before. She knew that there were men out there who wanted to get her, why couldn’t they see that? The kindly desk sergeant would take her statement and the detective would very patiently listen and write in his lovely little black book. But nothing would happen, all gesture and no substance. She had told them so many times. At first they were kind, but there had been so many.
This time she was going to sort it out herself. The next time he came round she would be ready. As if flowers and food could buy her now, what did he think she was? The delivery man came for the last time, he was sneaking away when she called him and got out her purse to give him a tip – the look on his face when he saw the knife was priceless. Dragging him into the bathroom was hard, but she was strong. The pizzas stopped then. They asked about him but even the police said she was deluded and hopeless – it couldn’t be her. The flowers were harder, but in the end the florist went the same way. No one even came to find her that time – she wasn’t opening her door to anyone by the – anyway. You never knew who might turn up. She lay down and waited then. Her phone rang lots of times – work she expected.
One day they would find her, but until then she was just going to lie down. She had put all the flowers in the bath recently– she didn’t mind crushing them – they were free. She didn’t go out again, she knew he would get her if she did. She heard him try the door – but she had no energy to get up. The bath was comfy in its own way. He shouted but she didn’t get it. She just knew she had to teach them all a lesson – they would soon know what would happen if they ignored her, if they were quick the flowers would be fresh enough – that would please someone. She wasn’t just for show – there was real substance to her.
He was always one for the big gestures. At first they were exciting, the gifts, the bouquets on her desk, the big weekends away. She was surprised at how quickly she grew bored with them. Or maybe she was bored with him? There was little substance and all show. Somehow there was no depth, no understanding of how relationships really worked, far less idea of how she might work. Their love making was the same, all show, flourish and fall short.
None of this mattered too much at the beginning, he was one of many and she didn’t have a ‘forever’ sort of mentality. ‘One day at a time’ and ‘take what you can get’ was how she lived. She thought that was his plan too. The first time he began his ‘silly stuff’ she went along with it. She was used to Ann Summers and a bit more, so she wasn’t bothered. If it got her a decent meal she could put up with it. But soon she realised she wasn’t hungry any more. It stopped being a game and she didn’t like ‘serious’ one single bit. The day he decided that wrapping her in cling film was fun was the day she told him she was out of here. She was sick of his big gestures and his vacuous thoughts. But most of all she was sick of his inability to see her as a woman, not a toy to be played with.
He begged and pleaded, but she walked. She had no interest, she said, in his rubbish. The texts began straight away and she blocked him. The bouquets arrived daily. At first she felt bad putting them in the bin, but after a week she didn’t even look at them. The phone calls at work were hard, she was determined not to let the others see that he was rattling her. The emails were long and rambling, she forwarded them, unread, to an old, unused account.
Back from work one day she smelt that he had been in her flat; she got the locks changed that evening but found sleep hard to come by. She sensed him in the street and glimpsed him everywhere. The hot coffee on her desk when she got in just freaked her and the endless take aways delivered to her flat made her shiver. Even the delivery men had stopped knocking – they just left it and ran.
She told no one – she knew what they would say. She knew that some bright spark would suggest the police and she knew too that there was no way she was ever talking to them again. The pain she had held down threatened to come up again and again. How could she tell them yet again that she was being stalked? They didn’t believe her before. She knew that there were men out there who wanted to get her, why couldn’t they see that? The kindly desk sergeant would take her statement and the detective would very patiently listen and write in his lovely little black book. But nothing would happen, all gesture and no substance. She had told them so many times. At first they were kind, but there had been so many.
This time she was going to sort it out herself. The next time he came round she would be ready. As if flowers and food could buy her now, what did he think she was? The delivery man came for the last time, he was sneaking away when she called him and got out her purse to give him a tip – the look on his face when he saw the knife was priceless. Dragging him into the bathroom was hard, but she was strong. The pizzas stopped then. They asked about him but even the police said she was deluded and hopeless – it couldn’t be her. The flowers were harder, but in the end the florist went the same way. No one even came to find her that time – she wasn’t opening her door to anyone by the – anyway. You never knew who might turn up. She lay down and waited then. Her phone rang lots of times – work she expected.
One day they would find her, but until then she was just going to lie down. She had put all the flowers in the bath recently– she didn’t mind crushing them – they were free. She didn’t go out again, she knew he would get her if she did. She heard him try the door – but she had no energy to get up. The bath was comfy in its own way. He shouted but she didn’t get it. She just knew she had to teach them all a lesson – they would soon know what would happen if they ignored her, if they were quick the flowers would be fresh enough – that would please someone. She wasn’t just for show – there was real substance to her.
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