1. Denial

Rose hadn’t left a letter when she’d killed herself. Willow didn’t know what to make of that.
“She loved me, she loved me not,” Willow whispered, tearing the rose in her hands apart petal by petal. Everyday Willow came here, to Rose’s grave, trying to say goodbye, but everyday, the words died on her tongue.
A gust of wailing wind messed up Willow’s hair. “She loved me, she loved me not.” There was a finality to goodbye. It wasn’t like ‘good day’ or ‘see you later’, which promised a future. No, goodbye was both finite and infinite, an absolute ending and a tragic beginning. Goodbye was such a monstrous concept, Willow had trouble comprehending the entirety of its meaning.
“She loved me, she loved me not.” Rose had said goodbye on her last day. Willow hadn’t understood the meaning of the word, the full weight of it. It was almost as if Rose had spoken a secret language Willow wasn’t privy of knowing. Now, she understood it meant that she would never see her best friend again. Rose had said goodbye that day. Willow wasn’t ready to say it back yet.
“She loved me.” The rose plucked bare now, its flower laid decomposed in the grass. The petals looked like little droplets of blood. Willow had written Rose a letter, but it stayed crumpled up in the pocket of her coat.
Silence, broken by the loud crack of the stem snapping in half. A thorn caught in Willow’s hand. She threw it away with a wail. “Then why did you leave?” Her breaths formed little clouds in the air. As the sun had lowered, the air had gotten colder. The stench of autumn hung on the wind; of dying plants and decaying leaves. Winter wasn’t far away now. And withered flowers always left sorrow behind.

The next day Willow was heading to Rose’s grave again, but not before stopping by the house with the beautiful flower garden on the edge of town, to pick fresh roses.
The first time Willow brought Rose flowers, she had bought them from a flower shop. It had cost her a kidney. Besides, the flower shop was situated on the square in the heart of the village, where there were too many memories that were too painful to remember.
These days Willow gave the village a wide berth. Everything there reminded her of Rose and it made her long for days she could never have again. It felt so empty without her. There was nothing worth going back for. Willow didn’t understand how nothingness could feel like so much. How the emptiness Rose had left behind could feel so heavy.
So Willow walked through the fields surrounding the village instead. That’s how she stumbled upon the quaint cottage with the flower garden. It was all the way on the edge of the village. Willow had no idea who the house belonged to.
A delicate fence covered in vines surrounded the garden. It was charming, like the cottage, but didn’t do much to keep intruders out. Willow easily climbed over it, doing her best not to step on any of the flower beds.
The roses grew in the middle of the garden. There was a wide variety of shades, but Willow went for the roses with the colour of such dark burgundy, they almost looked black.
In the summer, this spot was well hidden by full bushes and sprouting trees Willow could not name, but as the seasons were changing, the leaves had started to fall and she wasn’t as secluded from view as she’d wished. Willow hunched down and careful of the thorns, she started plucking the flowers. The bouquet in her hand grew little by little. Something about the plucking soothed her.
“Aha! I finally caught you, flower thief!”
Willow quickly let go of the rose she was about to pluck, as if that would cover up her crime, but the roses in her other hand were a loud burgundy beacon betraying her to be the culprit. She looked in the direction the voice had come from.
On the porch a woman stood, sharp eyes watching Willow. She seemed to be in her late-thirties and wore a corseted, frilly dress partly covered by an apron.
Slowly Willow stood up. Not knowing what to do, she extended her arm trying to give back the stolen roses.
“Well, they’re already plucked, aren’t they?” the woman dismissed her, so Willow dropped her arm again. The weeping wind rustled the leaves in the garden, making them join its elegy.
“I’m sorry,” Willow said.
“Sorrow doesn’t bring flowers back.”
Willow stayed silent. The woman wasn’t wrong, Willow knew that all too well.
“Now tell me, what have these roses ever done to you that you must rip them from their home?”
Willow swallowed, casting her eyes down. “It’s for a girl.” It wasn’t a lie, but not the whole truth either.
The woman’s eyes lit up. “A girl?” Delight dripped off her voice. Willow didn’t understand why. “Dates do call for flowers. Alright then, take them.”
Willow's heart sank. The woman thought she was going on a date. She didn’t have the courage to correct her; that they were for a dead girl in the ground. Willow had never spoken those words out loud.
“It does sadden me having to say goodbye to the roses, but I do hope they make your date very happy instead.”
“Sorry,” Willow said, her voice thick with the emotions in her throat she tried to swallow down. She had thought the owner of the garden wouldn’t miss the roses she plucked. It had never been her intention to make someone else feel the sorrow of loss.
“If you really feel that sorry, there is one apology I will accept.”
Willow looked up.
“I could use some help in the garden. Just until the first frost,” Hazel went on. “Would you be up for that?”
Willow nodded, wanting nothing more than to make amends. The woman extended her hand.
“Hazel,” she said. Just like the colour of her eyes, Willow thought as she accepted Hazel’s hand and shook it.
“Willow.”
Hazel’s eyes trailed down to the roses still clutched in Willow’s hand. “Hers?” she asked.
“Rose.”
A little smile played around Hazel’s lips. “But of course, Rose.” A short silence fell. “Alright then, I’ll see you at the same time tomorrow?”
Willow nodded. Hazel gave her a little smile and walked Willow to the fence’s gate. “Easier than climbing, you know,” Hazel said with a wink as she opened the little gate. Willow walked through it, leaving the garden to continue on her journey.
“You have to introduce me to Rose some time,” Hazel yelled after her. “I need to know if she’s cute enough to steal my flowers for before I can forgive you, you know.” The words barely found Willow above the wailing of the wind as she made her way to the graveyard.

The wind had taken away all of yesterday’s rose petals. Willow looked down at the fresh flowers from Hazel’s garden clutched in her hand. She laid them on Rose’s grave, trying to cover up the smell of rot underneath.
Willow grabbed the letter with the words she didn’t want to say from her coat pocket. It was a wrinkled piece of paper by now. Her writing was deformed by the many folds and crinkles, the ink almost faded away. It mattered not, Willow knew the words by heart at this point.
Just like yesterday, she still couldn’t bear to speak them out loud. She tucked the piece of paper back into her pocket. Willow was determined to run from her grief until her legs gave out, or until she made it to a field of sunflowers where cold grief couldn’t find her.
Willow took the roses off the grave and started tearing them apart one by one, until there was nothing left but the stems and thorns.
The birds in the tree next to Rose’s grave didn’t sing. They screamed.

When Willow arrived at Hazel’s house, entering through the gate this time, she found the woman sitting on the porch. She’d laid out a plaid blanket set with a teapot, teacups and an assortment of different fruits.
“Let us warm up a little before we start labouring in the garden,” Hazel said and patted her hand on the empty spot next to her. Willow sat down. It was a beautiful late summer day, but she could indeed feel a chill in the air that hadn’t been there before. Hazel poured Willow a cup of fragrant tea, smelling of earl grey, citrus and lavender, and handed her the porcelain cup.
“Fruits? I plucked them from the garden this morning,” Hazel said, but Willow shook her head. She didn’t think she could swallow anything past the lump that seemed to be permanently lodged in her throat. Hazel eyed her for a moment. Why, Willow did not know, but no more words were spoken and silence fell upon them.
Rays of sunshine softly caressed Hazel’s garden, making the colours of the many flowers pop. It had been a few days since the sun had managed to break through the thick, grey autumn clouds and the touch of the warm light on Willow’s face felt nice. A few leaves fluttered down from the trees in the garden, marking the end of the season.
“What do we have to do in a garden in autumn anyways?” Willow asked after a moment of silence. She took a sip from her cup, clutched in both hands and felt the tea warm her up from within.
“We need to prepare the garden for winter, of course.”
“I don’t like winter. It always takes away all the flowers.” Willow said.
Hazel eyed her for a moment. “I think every season has its own type of beauty. Sometimes you just have to look a little bit harder to find it.”
“No matter how hard I look, winter beholds no beauty for me. All I see is dead plants and skeleton trees. Even the birds leave heading for more pleasant places.”
“Which is crucial for nature to survive. The world has to die in order to be reborn next spring.” Willow didn’t respond. She watched the wind blow through the trees, taking away more leaves with it.
“Do you know the story of Hades and Persephone?” Hazel asked her. Willow shook her head. Hazel took a big sip of her tea before she began telling her story. “It’s a tale about how the four seasons came to be. Hades, god of the underworld, felt a deep loneliness residing in his realm. He had always longed to find love and have someone by his side. On one particular lonesome day, he left his realm to visit the upper world. There, in a beautiful meadow, he saw Persephone picking flowers. It was love at first sight, for him at least. So enthralled by her he was, that he split the ground below her in half. The earth swallowed her whole and brought her to the underworld, to Hades.
“When Demeter, goddess of agriculture and harvest, and also Persephone’s mother, discovered that her daughter was missing, she went mad with worry. She neglected her godly duties to search the entire surface of the earth for her daughter. Nine long days and nights she searched for Persophone, but failed to find her. In her absence, plants began to wither and die.”
“How terrible of Hades to take Persephone away from her mother,” Willow said.
“Helios, the sun god who saw all, thought so as well. He took pity on Demeter and told her he had seen Hades drag Persephone down to the underworld. So Demeter went to Hades and begged him to return her. ‘Persephone does not belong in the underworld,’ she proclaimed. But Hades, finally having found a companion, refused.
“Demeter mourned the loss of her only daughter and as she suffered, so did the earth. Fertile land became barren, the earth grew cold and crops died. Mortals, not having anything to eat anymore, started starving to death.”
“And Hades didn’t care?”
Hazel shook her head. “You must understand that Hades had resided in the underworld completely alone for centuries. When he got chosen as the god of the underworld death did not yet exist. Only when Pandora opened her box filled with horrors, did death escape and came to be in the world. Humans became mortal as they could not resist death and joined Hades in the underworld. For the first time in his existence, Hades had found company.”
“Still, how horribly selfish of him.”
“Maybe so. Zeus couldn’t bear to see his beloved mortals die either and demanded Hades return Persephone to Demeter. Hades, although powerful, knew he was no match against Zeus’ wrath and so he promised to release her from the underworld.
As a parting gift, Hades offered Persephone some pomegranate seeds. Not having eaten anything since arriving in the underworld, Persephone accepted the fruits and ate them. Now, this was a cunning trick of Hades because by eating food from the underworld, she was now bound to it.”
Willow gasped. “He broke his promise.”
Hazel nodded. ”His promise had been nothing more than a deceit to win him time. He never had any intention to let Persephone go and because she was now bound to the underworld, a new deal had to be struck. It was essential for Demeter to be happy with the deal or else the earth would continue to die.”
Hazel took another sip of her tea. Willow, almost having forgotten about the now lukewarm cup in her hands, did so as well. Distracted from her grief by Hazel’s story, she even managed to take a bite from one of the fruits Hazel had laid out on the tray. The taste of sweet strawberry burst in her mouth.
“The gods held council with each other and eventually, agreed upon a new decision. Persephone would spend six months of the year with Demeter in the upper world. The remaining 6 months, she would spend with Hades in the underworld.”
“And Demeter was happy with this?”
“Not really. When Persephone rejoined Demeter, the goddess rejoiced and the earth bloomed. People started referring to this time of year as spring and full bloom was named summer. When her daughter left for the underworld after six months, Demeter went into mourning and the earth became cold and plants withered. People named this time of year autumn and when the land was barren they called it winter.”
“The four seasons.”
“Yes,” Hazel said. “And so Persephone became goddess of the spring because with her return to the upper world the plants start blooming again. But understand this, even when Hades holds Persephone in his tightest hug and winter is so cold you feel as though summer might never come again, spring is already underground. It’s why we already need to prepare the garden in autumn, even though we won’t see the fruits of our labour until spring.”
Willow hummed, letting the story sink in. “Did Persephone fall in love with Hades eventually?” Willow asked after a moment of silence.
“I like to think so. In my eyes it’s a love story, an unconventional one, but a love story all the same.” Hazel returned her gaze to Willow. “Speaking of love, are you seeing Rose today?”
Cruelly ripped away from the story in her head, Willow gave Hazel a stiff nod.
“Then we better get to work so she won’t have to miss you for too long.”
Willow didn’t have the heart to tell Hazel Rose could never miss her again. Their love had become one-sided. Willow wished she could rip the earth open like Hades, so she could steal Rose back from his grasp.

Willow and Hazel worked in the garden for hours. They were busy shovelling up all the leaves the trees had decided to let go of. Persephone must have returned to Hades, Willow thought; and Demeter is mourning.
The women worked in silence, bringing piles upon piles of colourful leaves to the mass of compost behind the cottage, where there was less wind. Hazel had explained the leaves needed to compost so they could be used as fertiliser coming spring. Hazel had a big garden, so it took them quite some time. Willow didn’t mind the work though. The repetitive nature of the task allowed Willow to turn her brain off and with that came a serenity she hadn’t felt in a long time. The hours passed without Willow noticing. Before she knew, all the leaves were cleared from the ground.
Willow looked up, but didn’t see Hazel. She did a lap around the garden, but still no Hazel. She must be in her house, Willow thought and went to sit down on the porch. Before long, the door behind her opened and out came Hazel. Willow stood up.
“Here,” Hazel said, pressing a bouquet of fresh flowers in her hands. “It’s not what you usually go for, I know, but dark roses represent death and I feel like your girlfriend deserves something happier. Flowers speak, you know.”
Willow looked at the mismatched bouquet of flowers made up of colours that didn’t quite go together.
“I know aesthetically it doesn’t make much sense. I picked them based on their meaning. Morning glory for affection, tarragon expressing lasting interest, pink camellias for longing, purple violets mean that your thoughts are occupied with love and orange roses to express desire,” Hazel said, pointing each flower out.
It was a pretty bouquet, but Willow wished Hazel would have given her the burgundy roses instead.
“I was thinking about adding some red roses in there, but I don’t know how far your relationship is yet. A declaration of love is a serious thing, you know.” Hazel said.
“Thanks,” Willow answered, not wanting to seem ungrateful.
Then Hazel handed her a cotton tote bag. Hesitatingly Willow accepted it, but not without giving the woman a questioning look. “It’s a book about the meaning of flowers, in case you’re interested in learning more about them.”
Willow wanted to thank Hazel again, but the woman went on before she could speak.
“Oh, and don’t forget I’m still waiting to be introduced to Rose.” Hazel waved her finger at Willow with a wink. With that, the words got stuck in her throat once more and formed into a big lump. Not able to speak, Willow gave Hazel a tense nod.
The only thing she could have said to her in that moment was the truth, but she didn’t allow for her voice to make those ugly words exist in this world yet, so all Willow did was leave.

The sun was already setting by the time Willow arrived. Her hand grazed over her pocket, but she didn’t take the note out today. It felt too heavy to hold, as if her words were carved on a tablet of stone instead of written on paper. So she plopped down in the grass, facing Rose’s grave. She eyed it in silence for a long beat, emptiness encompassing her entire being. “I wish I could have given you pomegranate seeds to keep you by my side.” Maybe Willow was more like Hades than she had initially thought.
Not able to sit alone with her thoughts any longer, she took Hazel’s book from her bag. ‘Fragrant Words’ the cover said. Willow read next to Rose until the world turned so dark, she couldn’t make out the words anymore.

The next day, Willow arrived at Hazel’s house at the usual time and just like yesterday, Hazel was sitting on her porch with some freshly brewed tea and fruits. She poured Willow a steaming cup. It was mint tea, by the smell of it.
“And, did you read the book?” Hazel broke the silence.
“Bits and pieces.” A little smile formed around Hazel’s lips. “It’s all very interesting,” Willow added and her smile grew. It warmed something in her, being able to make Hazel smile.
“I’m glad to hear that.”
They shared a moment of quiet. “So, what are we doing today?” Willow asked, curiosity getting the best of her.
“We need to dig up flower bulbs. Some will need to be added to compost and some we need to transfer to pots so we can move them inside for the winter. They won’t survive the frost, you see. When the weather is warmer, we can return them to the earth again.”
Willow and Hazel quickly drank their tea and then got to work.
The work today was a lot more delicate. They spend the afternoon carefully digging up flower bulbs, making sure no damage came to them in the process.
“That’s an annual, it can go to compost,” Hazel directed her.
“What’s an annual?”
“An annual flower only blooms once and then dies.”
“Why would you plant a flower that only blooms once?” Willow asked.
“So I can plant other flowers there for the next season. There are still many beautiful flowers I’d like to grow in this garden, but I only have so much space.”
That made sense Willow guessed. She dug up another flower bulb. “This one?”
“We need to replant that one in a pot,” Hazel answered and so the hours went by. Willow dug up and replanted flower bulb after flower bulb. Dirt got stuck under her nails and to her hands. She didn’t understand how this little garden could fit so many bulbs.
“I think that’s quite enough for today. Thank you for your help,” Hazel said after the sun had dropped low in the sky. Willow stood up, her knees stiff from the many hours she spent sitting on them.
“Of course!” A promise was a promise after all.
“Are you going to meet your girlfriend today?”
Willow knew she had to tell Hazel the truth at some point, but not now. She could not speak those awful words today either. A soft “Yes,” was all she managed to push past the lump that had returned to her throat once more.
Hazel’s smile beamed at her. “You can pick out some flowers for her, if you’d like. You know their meaning now, so I think you should choose them yourself. Tell her whatever you want to say.”
“Thanks.”
“See you tomorrow,” Hazel said and with that, she left her alone in the garden. Willow made for the dark roses, but then a sudden wave of anger stopped her in her tracks and the burgundy roses didn’t feel right anymore.
Tell her whatever you need to say, Hazel’s words echoed in Willow’s head. She took a long look around the garden. There! All the way in the corner grew a patch of bright red poppies. Overtaken by rage, Willow ripped the flowers from the earth.

Willow made her way over to the graveyard like a thunderstorm, the grass trampled by her stomping feet. When she arrived at Rose’s grave she didn’t sit down. She loomed over her like an ominous presence, the setting sun swallowing the grave with her growing shadows. The flowers from yesterday were still there.
Words streamed from Willow's mouth before she even had half a thought to stop them. “I hate you!” She screamed. It wasn’t enough. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU!” Willow kept on screaming, repeating the words so many times, they lost their meaning. She screamed the words until the sky was pitch black. She screamed the words until her voice went hoarse and she was heaving for breath.
Why should Willow feel sad when Rose had chosen to leave her? She should be furious! She let anger rage through her body. It burned like a wildfire through her veins, destroying every fibre of her being, until there was nothing left but wrath.
Willow threw the fiery red poppies on Rose's grave with as much force as she could, then stormed away.