Blue Roses (eBook)

Kent Yorkson (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
256 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-9972-3 (ISBN)

Infos

The Blue Roses is a novel of literary fiction. It follows a man and a married couple in New York City, whose intricate relationship oscillates among friendship, love, love triangle, and even obsession. Mark, the narrator and an American, works for the United Nations in New York as a personnel officer. His friend, Hans, is a German who also works for the UN as an economist. Hans's wife, Yukari, is a Japanese woman and a professional violinist who survived leukemia. One day, Mark encounters Hans and Yukari in a museum. As Mark likes painting, Hans enjoys opera singing, and Yukari loves the violin, the three foster a friendship through classical music, opera, and art. Mark resists feeling drawn into his friend's wife. One evening over dinner, they discover that their families were acquainted generations ago. This knowledge of legacy bonds them as a threesome. During the summer, inspired by the beauty of Yukari in a light-blue dress at the UN garden, Hans and Mark secretly plant blue roses there for her. The blue roses later blossom. The three admire their blue roses-a symbol of their friendship and deep bond. Two other women complement the story. One is Mark's ex-wife, Francine, who is Swiss-born and now married to another of Mark's friends in the UN, Shem Tov, an Israeli. The other is Mark's high school sweetheart, Jane, to whom he was briefly engaged. Francine encourages Mark to be happy with Yukari. Jane again wants to marry Mark, but he is ambivalent about her. In the meantime, Yukari becomes pregnant with Hans's child and happily settles into her role as expectant mother. Mark, Hans, and Yukari celebrate New Year's Eve at the height of their friendship and happiness when it seems that nothing can go wrong. Then, tragedies happen, and their lives are completely changed.

Kent Yorkson lives in Manhattan, New York City. He received an MFA in creative writing at The New School, and undertook the post-baccalaureate studies in English and comparative literature at Columbia University. Writing has been his passion since his adolescent years. At high school, he wrote a novella, which appeared in the school's literature club magazine. At university, he and his friends banded together and published annual booklets of poetry, novel, and essay, to which he contributed novels. Years later, after receiving an MFA in creative writing, he started writing more seriously. His literary works were recognized several times in the William Faulkner-William Wisdom Creative Writing Competition as a shortlist, a finalist, or a semifinalist.

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The Blue Roses is a novel of literary fiction. It follows a man and a married couple in New York City, whose intricate relationship oscillates among friendship, love, love triangle, and even obsession. Mark, the narrator and an American, works for the United Nations in New York as a personnel officer. His friend, Hans, is a German who also works for the UN as an economist. Hans's wife, Yukari, is a Japanese woman and a professional violinist who survived leukemia. One day, Mark encounters Hans and Yukari in a museum. As Mark likes painting, Hans enjoys opera singing, and Yukari loves the violin, the three foster a friendship through classical music, opera, and art. Mark resists feeling drawn into his friend's wife. One evening over dinner, they discover that their families were acquainted generations ago. This knowledge of legacy bonds them as a threesome. During the summer, inspired by the beauty of Yukari in a light-blue dress at the UN garden, Hans and Mark secretly plant blue roses there for her. The blue roses later blossom. The three admire their blue roses a symbol of their friendship and deep bond. Two other women complement the story. One is Mark's ex-wife, Francine, who is Swiss-born and now married to another of Mark's friends in the UN, Shem Tov, an Israeli. The other is Mark's high school sweetheart, Jane, to whom he was briefly engaged. Francine encourages Mark to be happy with Yukari. Jane again wants to marry Mark, but he is ambivalent about her. In the meantime, Yukari becomes pregnant with Hans's child and happily settles into her role as expectant mother. Mark, Hans, and Yukari celebrate New Year's Eve at the height of their friendship and happiness when it seems that nothing can go wrong. In January, Hans loses an opportunity for a promotion. Disappointed, he decides to go to a UN peacekeeping mission in Sarajevo in to rediscover a reason for working for the UN. But he dies there in a helicopter crash. In New York, Mark helps Yukari with her childbirth. Yukari gives birth to a beautiful baby girl, Anne. Mark and Yukari become engaged. They plan to marry and raise Anne as their child. Then, suddenly Yukari dies of relapsed leukemia. Losing his two best friends in three months one by one, Mark is now left with Anne. Jane visits Mark and proposes that they marry and raise Anne as their child. Mark is moved by her love and compassion. But in the end, he declines her offer. He decides to raise Anne by himself as his child to cherish the memory of sacred friendship among Yukari, Hans, and him. Francine and Shem Tov praise Mark's resolve and promise to assist him. The novel ends with the scene where Mark visits the UN garden with Anne when blue roses are blooming. The blue roses delight Anne while Mark sees a vision of Hans and Yukari watching them in peace from behind their blue roses.

Textauszug

1

On a fine day in early April 1999 in New York, when there was a hint of spring in the air, I was sketching in the sculpture court in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I was hesitant to work in such a public space, but I needed to complete a homework assignment for the art class I was taking. The object of my focus was an ancient Greek sculpture of a young woman, reclining on a moss-covered rock and surrounded by an abundance of flowers. The smooth texture of the white marble sensually expressed her youthful body, which shone in the bright sunlight beneath the glass ceiling of the court.

My materials were simple: a No. 2 pencil, an eraser, and a sheet of heavy white drawing paper. The assignment was to capture the skin of a figure in as much detail as possible. I had almost completed sketching the woman’s body and was working on the rock and flowers. I was not doing badly, I thought, for a small crowd of museumgoers had gathered around me, showing approval and giving nods.

“This is excellent!” one man exclaimed.

I recognized the voice and turned to see Hans Schmidt standing in the crowd, wearing a big grin.

“What a surprise,” he continued. “I didn’t know you had such artistic talent, Mark. How are you?” He came forward and shook my hand.

I greeted him, then pointed to my drawing. “I’ve been working on this for a while. I wasn’t sure how it would come out. But it’s coming along all right, I guess.”

“I don’t know much about drawing, but this looks great.” He turned to a woman next to him. “What do you think?”

“It’s pretty.” Her voice sounded like a bell.

“This is Yukari, my wife.” He guided her toward me, his hand lingering at the small of her back.

I swallowed. I knew Hans was married, but this was my first time meeting his wife. His wife is Japanese? How lovely she is. Hans, you are a lucky man.

“Pleased to meet you.” I shook her soft, refined hand. “I’m Mark Sanders. Hans and I are good friends.”

Hans’s wife appeared to be in her late thirties—or perhaps her late twenties? I could hardly tell. She was willowy, of medium height, with a fine complexion, dark eyes, a straight nose, and shiny, dark-brown hair that hung to her shoulders. For a Japanese woman, she had a touch of the Western woman’s body, with round breasts and a narrow waist. Despite her conservative dress, she reminded me of the Greek sculpture I was sketching.

She gazed directly into my eyes with keen curiosity. “Do you come here often to sketch? Your drawing is really nice.”

“Well, yes,” I answered. “I visit the museum often. But to sketch? No, this is the first time. You know what? It’s so embarrassing.”

I dabbed some sweat from my forehead. We three burst out laughing.

“I’m almost done. Can you come back in ten minutes or so? Then we could go to the terrace for a cup of coffee.”

“Sounds terrific,” said Hans. “We’ll be walking around the sculpture court. When you’re done, just join us.”

Hans took Yukari’s arm and moved in a leisurely manner toward other sculptures. She smiled at me and went along with him. Hans tried to hold her closely at her waist, but she discreetly slipped away. I didn’t understand what that meant. I assumed that, as a Japanese woman, she was too timid to show public affection.

I hastily added finishing touches to the figure, rock, and flowers. Because the figure was almost completed, the rest went quickly and easily—or so I thought, after having seen Hans and Yukari, which lifted my spirits.

I had known Hans for some time because we both worked at the United Nations headquarters in New York. We were not diplomats who represented member states but international civil servants who worked in the Secretariat, the administrative body of the UN. He was German, aged forty-two, tall and slim, with blond hair, a high forehead, and gray eyes. He had a PhD in economics from the University of California at Berkeley and worked as an economic affairs officer in the Department of Economic and Social Affairs, or DESA. His job there was to maintain and operate a global econometric modeling system called EGlobe.

We had originally met in a French class. Working at the UN, we were required to be proficient in at least two of its six official languages: Arabic, Chinese, English, French, Russian, and Spanish. In my case, I’d added French to my native English. My French was hardly adequate, though, so I was working my way through the seven-level program.

It was in level six when I’d met Hans, who had just started the program. We ate lunch together often in the cafeteria and practiced our French. Sometime later, he and I had completed all seven levels of the program and passed the French proficiency exam, which enhanced our professional credentials at the UN. Still, we kept meeting each other to this day.

In addition, because Hans often used computers for his work and because I had a good friend, Shem Tov Lancry, an Israeli, in the information technology services division of the Department of Management, I introduced them so Hans was able to get technical advice.

I packed up my drawing materials, and the three of us went to the balcony above the Great Hall of the museum, where drinks and desserts were served while musicians played chamber music. Instead of coffee, we each ordered a glass of red wine.

I learned Yukari Asaka was a professional violinist and a member of the Parnassus Symphony Orchestra, which was thought to be the best after the first-tier orchestras in New York—the New York Philharmonic, the Brooklyn Philharmonic, and the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra.

“How did you two meet?” I asked.

“One evening,” Hans began, “I went to a concert given by the Parnassus at Carnegie Hall. After the concert, I visited a backstage room to meet with the soloist who had played a piano concerto. On my way out, I found a small velvet bag on the stairs between the backstage rooms and the main stage. Inside, I found a woman’s cosmetic kit and a wallet. I was reluctant to give the bag to a stagehand, so I brought it home, called the telephone number in the wallet, and left a message that I had the velvet bag. At midnight, a woman called me. It was Yukari.” Hans caressed her shoulder.

“I was so depressed that night,” Yukari said. “When I was leaving Carnegie Hall after the performance, I realized my bag was gone. I knew even backstage rooms for orchestra members were not safe, but this kind of thing had never happened to me before. I searched everywhere with no luck. My friend brought me home by taxi. Lost money was one thing, but I was exhausted just thinking about reporting the lost bank cards, credit cards, driver’s license, union card, and so on. In my apartment, I saw my answering machine blinking. The message was like a voice from heaven.”

She spoke with a Japanese accent, which sounded exotic to my ears. Was I fascinated by her way of speaking or by her whole manner? I didn’t know—maybe both.

“Next day,” Hans said, “we met, and I returned her bag.” He raised his glass to Yukari and took a sip.

“I think I dropped it while I was returning from the ladies’ room to the dressing room. But thanks again, Hans.” She too raised her glass and took a sip.

Hans beamed. “After that, we kept seeing each other, and a year later we got married. That was a little over two years ago. Since then, I’ve been a happy man.”

“I am still retaining Asaka as my legal surname even after our marriage,” Yukari clarified.

“I have no problem with that,” Hans said.

“Yukari Asaka sounds better to me than Yukari Schmidt,” I said, grinning. Then I added, “Do you have any children?”

Hans laughed. “Not yet, but we’re working on it.”

Hans’s tone was honest, and he seemed truly happy. Yukari looked down and kept quiet, but she did not look unhappy, so I assumed she was just shy about the topic of child making.

When in passing I mentioned the proximity of our apartments on the Upper East Side, Yukari raised her face.

“Soon I’ll invite you for dinner,” she said. “I’m a good cook. Do you like sushi?”

“I love it,” I said.

Yukari smiled at me. Hans caught it. He seemed to be delighted with her. I assumed he was pleased with his wife for her willingness to entertain his close friend.

“Do you play any instruments?” Yukari asked me.

“I used to play the piano when I was a kid,” I replied. “But I have to be careful in New York, where so many people are talented. I’ll tell you about my fiasco.” I paused and sipped my wine. “This happened only a few years ago. A friend invited me to a dinner party at his apartment. His wife was taking piano lessons. After dinner, as the entertainment, his wife played the piano—some Beethoven sonata. For a student, she was a good pianist. Then her teacher played. The teacher was a professional, so she played a Chopin polonaise excellently. Then my friend insisted I play for he knew I used to play the piano. As a guest, I felt obliged, though I was terribly reluctant because I had not played for years.” I flushed at the memory.

“One piece in my limited repertoire was Mozart’s Sonata 16, which consists of many variations of the theme of the sonata. The last variation is that famous Turkish march.” Here I trilled my tongue,...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 1.7.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3509-9972-3 / 9798350999723