Larry took his thick spectacles off and squinted at the rose. He fished out a magnifying monocle from his pocket while grabbing a pair of tweezers with the other hand.
“Oh, come on, now. We can’t have you looking like that!”, He whispered, plucking a partly shrivelled-up red petal. “Only perfection, please.” He sighed contently. “Now, about the thorns…”
#
Larry got the rose on the thirteenth of February. Or maybe it was the day after. Either way, Larry remembered it being a sunny and warm day, perfect for a walk in the Meres. A part of Meres, where Larry lived, was overgrown and abandoned by the city folk, but the other part was groomed and regularly cleaned. It consisted of a few pebbled beaches surrounding a lake, which would attract people for picnics during the day, and a lot of hidden pathways and remote openings perfect for drinking and having sex during the night. The latter sickened Larry. His mother had taught him better than that! Larry knew what girls really were like. They were all pure and perfect at first, but after a while, Larry’s mother says that all they do is sicken your mind and make you go crazy in the head. Make you violent. Larry’s mother says that his father was violent. Larry had trouble remembering him, though. He had his dolls, and that’s all he needed. They were always there for Larry.
Anyhow, it was a sunny and warm day when a group of three girls appeared on Larry’s walking path. They asked where the main beach was. Larry showed them the way, too scared to talk. They thanked him and went on their way, but, as soon as Larry relaxed, one turned back, walked over to petrified Larry, and handed him a rose. A red rose, freshly picked.
Larry had dreamt that moment every night since the thirteenth or the day after. He had never developed an interest in the girls before, no. His mother had taught him better. But that girl, let’s call her… Nelly (like his mother; Larry didn’t really know any other girls’ names), that girl awoke something in him. Every night, Larry would inspect her face, as if seeing it for the first time. Every freckle had to be counted, every eyelash should be properly arranged, hair strands were to be put in order, and her lips needed to be accentuated just a bit with a hint of red lipstick Larry had lying around since his mother had died. Unfortunately, Larry would always wake up before he could finish perfecting Nelly’s face. And that infuriated him. Mostly because Larry didn’t like leaving any of his work unfinished. No, sir, his mother had taught him better! Finally, this repeating nightmare of never finishing his work had driven Larry mad. It even made him go past the convenience store that was at the end of Meres. Larry never went past the convenience store that was at the end of Meres.
It was easy singling out Nelly among the other girls. The youth didn’t really have any other place to gather in their little town except for the Meres. After finding her, Larry would wait, perfectly still and perfectly silent, in the bushes nearby, watching her undress and bathe in the lake during the day, and dance and sing with her obnoxious friends during the night. And sometimes, after having the entire day spent sitting in the bushes watching Nelly, Larry would gather the courage and follow her, even into the streets of the town. He would stay out of sight, of course, hidden by his grandfather’s coat and hat.
Nelly lived in a three-storey building, fourth in the line at Columbus Street. It was painted in a horrendous yellow and had old rusty fire escape stairs on the East side of the building. She lived supposedly alone, Larry thought, on the second floor. He would notice when the light in the window would be turned on moments after she would enter the building. Sometimes, Larry would even count the seconds, seeing how much time she needed to get into her flat. She wasn’t a very fast girl, which was fine with Larry. He didn’t need her to be fast, after all.
Nelly didn’t have any hair on her hands and legs, Larry noticed when her volleyball ball fell near his hiding place in the bushes. She really was pure and perfect, like his other dolls. At that moment, however, Larry was scared to death. Nelly was so close that he could hear her breathing. But also, he fell in love with her even more. So much more, actually, that he realised he needed to elevate their relationship. Smiling like an idiot with his mouth open (and to think that his mother had taught him better), he spent the rest of the day unusually relaxed and happy. He didn’t even bother putting his coat and hat on when following her home. ‘Mom, I’m walking a girl home!’, he would think, enamoured of the way her hips moved when she walked and the way her hair gracefully fell on her back.
Then, just as she was to enter her building, someone called someone else’s name. Holding his breath, Larry jumped into the shadow, not daring to even blink. Why did she turn around? That wasn’t her name. She was Nelly!
Somebody walked towards her. A man walked towards her. She smiled at him.
She smiled at him.
That image cut itself deep into his mind.
The man was now so close to her, and yet she wasn’t moving back. Why wasn’t she moving back?!
He hugged her. He hugged Nelly. He hugged his Nelly.
Larry grabbed a lamppost (which wasn’t working) to keep himself from not falling.
The two, Nelly… his Nelly and the man talked for a while. How could she, Larry thought, still gripping the lamppost? His fingers turned blue.
Then, the unimaginable happened. He leaned into her and kissed her. The man kissed his Nelly.
He had to sit down, even in the street’s dirt and dust, just to retain his consciousness. After a moment of sitting and steadying his thoughts, Larry stood up.
It was his girl, his Nelly. Nelly’s freckles were HIS to count, not the man’s! Nelly’s hair was HIS to comb, not the man’s! Nelly’s lips were HIS to kiss…
…No
No.
Nelly’s lips were his to be accentuated just a bit with a hint of red lipstick Larry had lying around since his mother had died, not the man’s.
Nelly was his! Larry needed to finish his work. Nelly needed to be perfect!
#
“There you go, love”, Larry said, holding a thorn with his tweezers. Only one remained on the stalk. Larry smiled. After finishing the work with the rose, Larry would leave it to dry upside down in a windy and dark place for half a day, before submerging the rose in a mixture of lukewarm water, glycerol, and formaldehyde for a few days. That would keep the rose perfect forever.
Larry put aside the tweezers, tossing the last thorn away. “Perfect”, he said, looking at the rose. “Isn’t she?”, He said.
The silence was his answer.
Putting his spectacles on, Larry glanced at the sofa. Nelly was still lying on it, in the same position he had put her. “Still sleeping?”, he asked, but she didn’t answer. Larry clicked his mouth upon seeing some dry spit and vomit around her mouth.
He will have to deal with that as well, he realised. Larry wondered how he had missed that. His mother had taught him better. He would need to fix and arrange every single detail. Making things perfect was never easy, after all.
Larry glanced at the jars of chemicals on the shelves. One with formaldehyde was running low. Larry sighed. He would need to take care of that as well.
