Alan Hoyden sat in the waiting room examining the tea in his porcelain cup. The liquid had a warm reddish hint with a warm sweet scent. The design on the cup was absolutely unique with dragons and geishas painted delicately on the pale blue sides. The room was elaborate with a large stain glass window door leading to nowhere. The designs reminded him of Eden with yellow and red flowers and in the middle itself was a door entangle with vines. There was yellow and red flowers just like the ones in the glass planted in various vases and pots. The bookshelf flourished with a vast array of novels some Alan had never seen, and a few Alan recognized as his own.

Andrew Day walked in the room with a proud stance and tea in his right hand. The gray had just started to peek through the blonde hair in his hair. For a man like Alan he had seemed to be younger almost, his bristle like goatee and not a wrinkle on his face, eyes still the same stormy blue. He sat across the rectangular wooden coffee table and placed his tea down, steam still coming out.

“Alan, my friend.” Alan was happy to see his friend but something was indeed different. Had it only been two years. This was the first time he had entered his house, been in his presence and even spoke for two years. There was a lot to catch up on but Andrew had a look of joyfulness that made Alan wonder.

“ Andrew, you have a wonderful home, and you have my books.” Andrew smiled teeth white and straight. Alan could have sworn that they couldn’t have that prefect since the last time he saw him. But then you could fix anything now days.

“ You already know that I will always be your biggest fan, but today I need your help. Have you read the text I sent you?” Alan had just finished reading the end of the large black binder of text on the way here. He was very interested to where he got his story.

“I read it, The Other Door was indeed a interesting book.” Alan was rather perplexed when he finished it. It was about young girl who found a door within a door, sort like Alice in wonderland, the problem was she could never escape. She grew to learn that it was the last of Eden and it was years before anyone learned about the door.

“ It’s a interesting choice of subject, the story main character was Michael, always being drawn to the door and lily. Does she represent Lilith in the bible? You never write things like this, why now?”

Andrew grinned, and glances towards the stained glass window. He seemed to be too happy with himself, almost jolly. The tea on Alan’s side of the table grew cold and Alan was about to finish it off when Andrew had gotten up to the bookshelf. Skimming the many hard spines of books his fingers came across one particularly. With one shift movement it descended down into his hand and was carried back to the table where Andrew sat back on the black leather armchair.

“ Do you remember writing this? It was one of your first.” Indeed Alan Hoyden remembered writing the suspenseful story of Marsha and Martha. It was just a project that got nowhere, but lead up to the friendship of Andrew and him. The illustration revealed a set of twin girls both with long blonde hair, one extremely happy and the other starring with envy. It wasn’t your average children’s story. It wasn’t for children at all.

“Yes, I do. That was so long ago, when we we’re in high school and the project was to submit a story to be published. What does that have to do with now?”

“ Time, my friend. Time is the difference. You don’t write about feuding siblings anymore and I for once have something other than the same cut out idea.”

He sipped his tea and looked at Alan’s face, deciphering what he was thinking. The other door wasn’t average. Michael was always drawn to the door, till one day he opened it to find paradise. He was able to leave freely and return when he felt like it. The girl inside had changed from when she first came. In the beginning she was innocent, harmless, curious, now when we see her again she is beautiful and appears to be ageless. But like everything she changed in time, and so did Michael. He gave a small twitch and hoped Alan hadn’t noticed. Alan hadn’t and was sipping his tea, smiling as he did so.

“Do you enjoy your tea?” Andrew asked, placing down his cup. Alan glanced down at his own and looked at the tea leaves at the bottom. Alan was becoming tired, his day was exhausting, and yet he stills wonder why Andrew needed his help.

“ Why am I here? Do you really need my help?” Andrews’s face sucked in and he stood up with a towering stance. He looked as If to be embarrassed, guilty for whatever he was going say. Alan looked at his friend, somewhat curious and yet disgusted that for the time he was here he allowed himself to become distracted. The stained glass door, book shelves, tea. Was Andrew buying time, was he meaning to distract him from something that he decided to hid again? Alan stood up to meet his gaze, both men tall, the suspense flickering in their eyes. Andrew motioned for Alan to follow him through the glass door.

“ What are you thinking Andrew?” Andrew turned to Alan, his face sober. Everything that happened just awhile ago was preparing for this. The story, tea and the door all lead up to this.

“ You know that I’m also a gardener. I took it up when I moved here. I lived in Central America for a time and brought back many plants that wouldn’t grow here properly without a green house to protect them. I was in Panama on a stroll when I found this gorgeous flower, called by the locals in English the rose of Eden with yellow and red petals. Just out of curiosity I smelled it.” Andrew looked away from his friend, too guilty to face what was coming next. Alan had remember seeing all the flowers decorated around the room against the cream color walls.“ It was amazing. The scent filled me up inside. Alan, it was like all the stress was wiped clean away. I could see clearer to where I didn’t need my glasses anymore. Everything was more acute. I felt younger than I ever had, almost as if I could do anything. Before I knew I took the flower home and constantly was around it, when I left Panama I took the seeds with me.”
Alan was speechless, a drug like flower like the lotus in the oddesey that makes you feel better and younger. Then he realized. The flowers on the door, in the room, and even in the story, They were the same flowers.

“ Are they outside behind the door? Is there a green house out there full of them? Andrew what is this?” he wanted to ask but he couldn’t. Andrew faced him again. The gray in his hair almost gone, he seemed to be in his twenties.

“ I learned that you can dry out the petals and make powders and all sorts of things and still have the same affect. I only learned after the first time in a powder that it has…side effects. You become addicted and the moment you stop, you age faster than worldly possible, it gives you a good disposition while you are taking it in throughout the day as if you are youthful and nothing could stop you, a controlled high I call it. But stop and you can become…a monster, hurtful; the flower cures you until there is no more. Its not your average drug that destroys you, it actually heals you, like my eyesight and the cancer that was spreading in my leg. After awhile it disappeared, all blemishes and scars. Look, some of my freckles disappear.
“I wanted you hear of course to tell me how you liked the story but more to ask you a favor”. He turned to the door. The pictures on the wall looked at the both of the men. The books and lamp stood still in suspense. Patterns in the hardwood spiral as the atmosphere is filled with questions. Alan couldn’t look at Andrew, cool sweat beaded on his face, trailing down almost as tears. Why was is biggest question, what was his purpose for being there listening about this. In all of this, Alan started to feel energetic, happy like it meant nothing that these flowers were the worlds next LSD. He suddenly began to laugh.

“ All I wanted to ask is do you like the tea? If you do there’s more.” Alan loved the tea. It was sweet and had a faint taste of honey and lemons, the best he has ever had. Then he stopped. The words hit him so hard he staggered back a few feet into the chair, fingers griping the ends, clawing at the leather. Blood rose to face, he couldn’t believe he had done that. He was now infected with curse but his joint stop aching, the lens of his glasses became foggy and eventually he had to take them off. He was furious and yet he was jubilant.

“ You…you gave me that tea with the petals of that flower. Why?”

“Because I did not want to alone, I don’t want to be happy and feel in the pit of my stomach that something is not right. I’m alone; Adam was lonely in the garden until eve came. He was happy but in his core he was dissatisfied with the world he was in, it’s like the story. I want a someone to share it with.” Alan barely remembers the girl in the story and how she wanted so badly for the boy to stay with her. Every time he left she would become more addicted to him to where one day she almost escaped. More addicted to him than the garden its self. She couldn’t leave because it would destroy her and she would die with out the company she had. Andrew stared at him now with sorrow and slight happiness.

“I don’t want to be alone in a world of happiness”.