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Did you ever encounter Jeanie? Always standing on the corner of Main and North giving away roses for smiles.

You must have seen her. Her eyes are so intense. You could get lost in those waters. Those lips have a chronic pout whenever she thinks. And Jeanie does nothing but think.

She speaks honesty, never lies as she hands you the rose.  Beautiful, absolutely beautiful, she is. The perfect woman.

So why pray tell, haven’t you noticed her?

And why does this beauty stand on a corner each day passing out roses for smiles?

Jeanie is no child. She must be thirty years, though those eyes speak words that are much older.

She should have a husband and beautiful children.

Or perhaps she is loaded down with proposals, too many to count. How does she find time to stand on that corner?

Why, as well, does she ask a smile of others which she never manages herself?

One day, I approached her on that corner. “Hello, Jeanie,” I spoke and gave her a smile. Who could resist smiling at a face such as hers?

Her lips parted and she spoke, “Afternoon. Often you have passed, now you have stopped. A rose is a symbol of many things and for your smile I give you one.” She handed me a white one, stripped of its thorns.

“No thorns,” I commented. She shook her head and lowered her eyes. In gazing at her, it was then that I noticed her cuts. So many cuts on her hands, wrists, and arms.

She met my eyes and said, “I remove them because of what the roses mean to me. The thorns too, mean something. But now, the hour is late and I must go home.”

I was intrigued by her reference of symbolism, as much as to where her home was. My curiosity overcame me and I asked, “May I walk you?”

Jeanie looked up, her eyes holding much pain. This somehow enchanted me even more. “I gave you a rose and asked a mere smile in return. I wish nothing more. Leave it in simplicity and do not pollute our exchange with proposed meanings. Much more kindness from you and I shall break.”

I bit my lip. Whatever was she speaking of? “Ah, well. I shall leave you then. Good night, Jeanie.”

She curtsied, “Good night, sir.”

*******

The next day, I again stopped at her side. “How fares things this day, my dear?” I asked.

Jeanie glanced up. “Same smiles, different flowers. Shall yours be one that I see today?”

I noticed that her hands were bandaged then. I tilted my head and grabbed one of them. She winced. “The thorns prick and cause infect?”

She pulled her hand away saying, “Better in my hands than another’s. Now where is that smile?”

“Where is yours? I have never seen you smile completely. The supposed joy at your lips never reaches those eyes. It’s as if they existed on two different faces. You would not accept such from others.”

“I accept what they can give. Your concern is touching but shall be my undoing, I fear. Please move on.”

Move on, I did, after a moment’s hesitation. I did not leave, however, before she placed in my hand a pink rose. Confusion stirred my brain into chaos. Why? For what reason…? In my confusion, I began to wander into another part of this fair city. When I finally glanced up, I couldn’t recognize my surroundings. As I was grasping for my bearings, I glanced over to a house with the most beautiful rose garden. An old woman toiled there and something made me go and speak to her. “Good evening, Madame. May I commend you on your garden? There is a woman in another part of this city who gives away roses such as these for smiles.”

She looked up. “You speak of Jeanie. My one and only child,” she smiled.

“She is your daughter?”

“Aye, that she is. Grows these roses, she does, then takes them inside to remove the thorns. I swear she will die of infection one day. I tell her so. She says it better her take the poison and die than infect another with such.”

I raised my brow. “She has told me the same. She says they symbolize something.” I hoped that this woman would shed some light my way.

The old woman smiled. “That they do, yes sir, they do. Roses symbolize to Jeanie, love, pure love. She gives them away without the thorns because-”

“Thorns are pain,” I interrupted.

“Yes, and she gives them to others so that all can say they have gotten one, at least once.”

“Has she no husband, no children?”

“Of both there is none. Jeanie has loved deeply, but pain came each time for her. The roses are her only children.”

“None have asked her hand?”

The woman shook her head. “Men,” she spat on the ground. “Such creatures. Love my Jeanie for pleasure, not marriage. They say they want her like she is, but in the end they all want someone she can’t be. My poor daughter, so few people understand her.”

I looked at the ground. “The roses they gave her had thorns?”

The woman opened her eyes wide. “My Jeanie has never received a rose, thorned or otherwise.”

I smiled quickly, recovering my senses. “Well, that just won’t do. I must be going now. Do me a favor and do not speak of this to Jeanie. It shall only embarrass her. Good evening, Madame.”

I knew what I must do then. That night, I traveled into the neighboring city and searched until I found my treasure. One beautiful rose. Blood red and fresh as the morning dew. I took it home and carefully removed all but one thorn.

*******

The next day, I again found Jeanie in her regular spot. “Good day, Jeanie,” I spoke.

Her eyes caught mine for a second. “Good day, sir. A smile for me today?”

“No, Jeanie, I think your smile shall come first.”

“Sir, I haven’t the fortitude for your games.”

“Who is playing a game, Jeanie? I have something for you. But first I will tell you a truth. Every rose is born with thorns because its perfection is a result of both beauty and pain. That is why I shall ask you to keep just one thorn on each of your roses. Here is an example to help you remember.” I drew the rose from my jacket’s folds and handed it to her.

Her eyes became twice their size and shades darker. “No one-“ she began.

I put my fingers to her lips. “Shhh, I know.” A tear rolled down her cheek and I swear that it was all I could do not to kiss it away. Would this cause even more sadness in that heart of hers? Then it happened. Just as the tear met her lips, the corners of her mouth spread. She looked up at me and I saw her eyes light with a true smile’s happiness.

“How shall I thank you, sir?” She cast her eyes down to her bountiful chest and her fingers reached to undo the buttons.

I knew what she thought and grabbed her fingers. “No, Jeanie. That isn’t why I did this. Your smile is my payment. Everyone should receive a rose at least once.”

She smiled again. “Yes, sir, I agree wholly. But suppose I were to love you now?”

“Then I would be the luckiest man alive, fore I have loved you from forever.”

Again those beautiful eyes filled with tears. “To love and be loved…the greatest gift. I always knew you would be the one to complete my life.”

I glanced down at her swollen hands. I clasped her face in my hands. “Stop cutting off the thorns, Jeanie. I know what drives you, but is it worth it? We could have a life together, beautiful children, and a rose garden like none other. Come away with me now, please.”

She smiled at me and drew away. “Who would I be then? My mission is to give away roses and what they mean. Just because my own garden is blooming, that does not give me the right to abandon all others. The hour is late, my dear, and I must return home. Find me here again tomorrow and we shall speak more.”

Then she left after a kiss to the cheek. I wandered home dazed yet somehow stronger than before.

And the ending, you ask?

Well, I would like to tell you that I found Jeanie again and convinced her to marry me. I would like to say that we have several children who play in our rose garden daily.

I cannot though.

I never found Jeanie again. Many say she died that night removing those cursed thorns.

I refuse to believe it.

I believe that she moved on to another city and that I shall find her again one day.

But either way, this is the end of my story…the story about a beautiful woman that you never saw...who always saw you.