Opera Rose
from Opera Rose and Other Devotions by G.L. Merritt
Opera Rose and Other Devotions, by G.L. Merritt, is a triptych of a life—Southern-rooted, grief-marked, and stubbornly alive…
This is the final movement.
OPERA ROSE
Before Mac, there had been a lot of frogs. They weren’t all frogs, though. But when things got heavy—when they got real—she shut down. Gray had learned long ago how to stay locked up, and at arm’s length.
The good ones left early—she just about made sure of it. The ones who did stay? They shouldn’t have. If Gray wasn’t tearing them to shreds, they sure were shredding her.
It wasn’t always blaring—the hum—sometimes it was just low level. Baseline. It started before she woke. She’d open her eyes, scan the room, scan her brain, trying to find out where it was coming from. She wasn’t sure.
But the chaos felt like home. She knew how to handle it. When to brace. It felt like what love should be, until it broke her one last time. When she finally came back from that one, she had to stop pretending she didn’t see the effect.
Folks said he broke her.
She said they were crazy.
But if she was being honest, that last one was why she shut down. Not him, exactly, but the pattern. And there was damage, sure.
So she did the work. Not all at once. Just things that felt right. Movements that weren’t chaos. Even if it was shaky at first.
Nothing dramatic. Not a purge. It’s just that one day, she realized she didn’t have to keep everything that weighed her down. Even if it worked—technically.
So she just kept what was necessary.
One television. Five work shirts.
Two plates. Two forks. Two spoons.
Just one spatula, pot, and pan.
She started making it to work on time—and she made her bed.
Had a nightly routine—shower at eight, rosary at nine.
Went to Mass on Sundays and volunteered during the week.
There were no more mad dashes to the bank with a fistful of undeposited paychecks. It was all in her planner, and she minded it to a tee.
And the hum. It didn’t go away. Not entirely. At least not at first. But little by little, it got quieter.
She was buttoned up and hidden away. Key thrown out. Nine to five. Weekends off. Hanging out with friends.
Like the hat said: life was good.
She’d found peace—an uninteresting, bland and beige, colorlessly numb peace. She called it contentment. Grown-up. Surviving.
Then one year, things shifted. She started emerging. Working. Creating. Moving forward. Slowly. She just wasn’t reaching.
But she started looking out instead of down. Looking up instead of inward. Making a little eye contact. She thought she might be tired of going it alone; she wanted to maybe do this with someone. But where the hell does anyone start? She had no clue, so she didn’t.
Still, there were sparks. Teeny tiny signs of life.
The time at the hardware store—the guy who’d chatted her up and nearly broke his neck looking back at her when he drove off.
The guy at the cooking class—the one who kept talking to her while they chopped onions. Not really her type, but still. It was enough for her to think: Okay. Sis still has it.
And that moment she did a quick twirl in her new cowboy hat for a friend—who was otherwise attached. Nothing performative. Nothing intended. Just a spark and a lingering warmth. They both noticed. They both stepped back.
Little specks of ignition. Nothing major.
Then on a whim, she thought she’d take a watercolor class. And that’s when she met him.
Mac was teaching at the Junior College. She walked into the studio like it was her last chance. She held her breath while painting a still life. She had a death-grip on her brush. Her brow furrowed as she struggled to get the spots on a banana just right.
He walked over to her—tapped her paper twice and asked, “Nice, but what are you really painting?”
She blinked. “It’s a bowl of fruit.”
“But what is it that you see up there?” He asked her, eyes scanning the beige and yellow palette she’d mixed.
She studied it. “The banana looks like it’s holding on for dear life. But it really just wants to escape.”
He nodded, eyebrows raised. He handed her a tube of Opera Rose and Cobalt Blue. They had coffee after. She laughed at his jokes. Snorted. Blushed. She didn’t mind.
Got home late—the mug from that morning was still in the sink. That hadn’t happened in years. She shrugged. Went to bed. With her makeup on.
She wobbled when she double-booked one time—her planner under a pile of laundry. She blushed. Picked up her clothes and quickly put them away. Then updated her calendar. He just smiled and poured her another cup of coffee. She loosened her death-grip on her pen and washed the cups as soon as they finished. Then put them in the drainer. Baby steps.
But she continued unfolding. Slowly. Mac was there to witness it. He asked her to marry him the night he slept in his car outside her apartment. She said yes and that was it. They were we.
And then she lost him.
The only way she knew how to survive that first year was to return to her compartments. Neat little boxes in her planner telling her the next step. And things were fine, mostly. She was content. How could anyone expect her to be more than that after Mac?
She lit a candle. Turned on The Pandora station she’d named Antiques & Lattes. Every single Saturday morning at 10:30, she folded t-shirts and towels and watched the flame flicker to Round Midnight or My Funny Valentine.
She didn’t cry every day anymore. Some days she might even say she didn’t feel the prick. Then some days it hit her like a Mack Truck—a Mac truck. She smiled at that thought as she looked over at a pile of watercolor supplies in the donate bin.
What if she hadn’t let herself love him? What if she stayed in her box?
Then I wouldn’t be hurting right now…
Her phone buzzed. It was Roxy—inviting her to the cabin. Nightswimming in October. She shook her head, finished putting the laundry away. When she passed by the donate bin, she reached in and fished out a half-used tube of Opera Rose. She tried the cap—it was dried on. She put it on the table—she could work on it later—picked up her phone:
Yes, Roxy. Can’t wait.
She was on the road by lunchtime. When she stopped to get gas and a coffee for the road, she texted Roxy:
At the Circle K. Need anything?
Of course Roxy needed something:
Yes! Marshmallows. I forgot!
Gray stayed in the pool after the others got out. Roxy set up the S’mores Bar. Kidd heated up the grill. The firepit was roaring. But still. It was five whole steps from the edge of the pool to there, and it would be freezing when she got out. The heated pool was warm, but the autumn air was cool.
“You’re gonna be an ice prune, Gray!” Roxy hollered from the outdoor kitchenette, waving a wool blanket before setting it on Gray’s chair.
Roxy was right. Gray knew how bitterly the cold air would slice. She almost dreaded it. But she knew she couldn’t stay here forever. Eventually, she’d have to make her way to the firepit.
Floating, weightless, she stared up at the stars through the trees. She could see the sky’s purple hues spreading out over the bluff. She basked in the pink and blue lights from the LEDs Kidd had installed. Only the very tip of her nose and mouth stayed above water. When her ears dipped under, she could hear only her heartbeat. No hum. Just the cadence of a girl still living.
“It’s worth it,” she sighed. “—worth that cold blast…”
She stopped, her feet finding the bottom of the pool. She drifted toward the edge, shivering as she pulled herself out of the water. She ran five steps and dove into the blanket.
Roxy handed her a skewered marshmallow from the fire. “Girl, I think your lips might be blue.”
Gray smiled. Popped the marshmallow in her mouth.
It was almost too hot—but she didn’t mind.
Here’s the mixtape.
OPERA ROSE AND OTHER DEVOTIONS: MIXTAPE
Fade Into You — Iron & Wine (Mazzy Star cover)
Oneida — Tyler Childers
Wondering Why — Red Clay Strays
Rubber Band Man — Mumford and Sons with Hozier
Elephant — Jason Isbell
I Can’t Make You Love Me — Bon Iver (Bonnie Raitt cover)
Letting Someone Go — Zach Bryan
Blue in Green — Miles Davis
It Never Entered My Mind — Miles Davis
Almost Blue — Chet Baker
If We Were Vampires — Noah Kahan & Wesley Schultz
Keep Me in Your Heart — Warren Zevon
Fire and Rain — James Taylor & Sheryl Crow
Always on My Mind — Chris Stapleton
I Will Follow You into the Dark — Death Cab for Cutie
Here — Mumford & Sons and Chris Stapleton
If I Didn’t Know You — Red Clay Strays
Flamenco Sketches — Miles Davis
Peace Piece — Bill Evans
La Vie En Rose — Édith Piaf
hidden track
Opera Rose and Other Devotions is a triptych of a life—Southern-rooted, grief-marked, and stubbornly alive—
and it is ultimately about survival, healing, and living.
This story answered the questions I had after finishing Headstone. In part, it showed how grief is not linear. In Opera Rose, I found that healing isn’t either. Healing isn’t finished just because you learned the lesson once.
Maybe we tend to think of healing as a destination. A quiet room we get to walk into, lock the door, and finally set our heavy bags down. But true healing doesn't ask you to stay safe in the quiet. Actually, it won’t let you. It asks you to inch back out into the noise.
One of the themes in my big novel is what that looks like when it’s finally put into practice. And what I learned while writing Opera Rose, is that it’s pretty messy.
Opera Rose is not how Gray met Mac.
It’s how she became someone capable of meeting Mac.
But when she lost him, she didn’t regress all the way back—she regressed to a place she called healed—where she had control.
And she could have stayed there.
She had before. And she was fine there. But did she want to stay?
And I suppose that’s where this story leaves her.
Not finished. Not fixed.
Just willing to step back into the noise.
~
I don’t usually include a mixtape with my SWG pieces. And I wasn’t sure if a feature piece really needed one.
But.
One created itself.
So here you go.
If you like, put on your headphones, and read back through her journey from the very beginning.
Thank y'all for walking all the way to the end of this road… with Grace.
Love,
Gray
Opera Rose and Other Devotions
Table of Contents
I The Bluff
II The Bluff (continued)
III Headstone
IV Headstone (continued)
V Opera Rose - thank you for reading
Liner Notes
~ Before The Bluff Was a Story
~ Before The Bluff Was a Story (continued)
~ Living Inside Headstone
~ Grace Can’t Stay Here
~I Thought I Knew Gray
