The Rose's Thorn

Anne-Sophie Grantaine looked out the window at her son, playing in the leaves. A window was open, and a cold fall wind blew through the house, rustling the papers laid out in front of her. She sighed, and looked back at the stern face waiting, watching, for her to sign the papers. "Are you sure this is the only way?" she implored. "There has to be another way, doesn't there?"

"No, now hurry up and sign the papers. I have to catch my flight back to Japan. Unlike you, Mr. Suoh actually needs me."

Her eyes glistening with tears, Anne-Sophie picked up the pen. And then she put it back down. "So this pays all my medical expenses for the rest of my life? And my Tamaki becomes heir to the Suoh family? The only catch is that I have to stay in France, right? All that happens is I never get to see my son again." Her voice broke, and the tears began to flow down her pale cheeks.

"That is correct, now please sign these papers." The old woman's creased face was circled by her gray hair, pulled back into a stern bun. She spoke quickly, crisply, with no wasted energy.

Anne-Sophie picked up the pen again. This time, she took a deep breath and signed the paper.

When Tamaki was called inside, he came, like a dog called to its master. His cheeks were flushed from the cold wind outside. His breath made small clouds in the air in front of him. The fourteen year old boy had been reliving a moment from his past, when his mother had not been so ill. They used to go out and dance in the falling leaves when the first cold winds of autumn began to howl. As Tamaki looked at his mother as he came inside, he could see hints of the woman she used to be, when she was lively and able to go outside. Tamaki relished the memories of his childhood, when a doctor did not visit the house every week and the house did not constantly smell of medicine. The thing Tamaki most missed about his youth, though, was the sight and sound of his mother's laughter. The only thing Tamaki could remember about his father was the way his mother used to laugh at him. Once Tamaki's father left, his mother didn't laugh as often. When she did, Tamaki would see the laughter in her eyes, but layered under that was a hint of sadness. When she became sick, Tamaki's mother stopped laughing.

As he stepped over the threshold into his house, he sensed that something was wrong. His mother slowly got up from the table and cautiously made her way over to Tamaki. As she approached, Tamaki could see the tear tracks down her face, and the tears that had not been shed waiting in her eyes. She came over and put her face in Tamaki's blond hair. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

As Tamaki learned the terms of the agreement, he became quieter and quieter. His mother looked up at his face, and said, "I'm so sorry Tamaki, but it is the only way I can live. And you'll have a good future with your father..." Her voice trailed off as Tamaki gasped and looked up. His eyes, although still shining with tears were shining from something else. His mother looked intently. Could it be?she wondered. Does he actually want to meet his father?

"I'm going to live with my father? Oh mother, thank you, thank you!"

"Tamaki, there's one thing I haven't told you about. "If you go to Japan, you'll" her voice broke again, and then came the tears. "you'll never get to see me again."

Tamaki's face fell. "It's okay, Mother," he said softly. "It's okay. I'll go to Japan to be with Father, and you stay here and get well. I just want you to be happy."

The stern woman, who was actually Tamaki's grandmother, sighed. "Finally. Now let's get going. We have to get to the airport."

Tamaki quickly packed his little possessions. He would have enough money to buy whatever he wanted once he was in Japan.

Once he was all packed, he came up to his frail mother and folded her in his embrace. "Good-bye," he whispered into her soft, wispy hair. He stepped away with tears in his eyes. Anne-Sophie watched as her beloved son walked out the front door and out of her life. As the door closed, she thought she could smell a faint hint of roses. "Hmm. Odd," she said aloud.