by Lisa De Jong
He’s got a hold on my heart. I feel it … he’s using his pull on it to bring me closer to him, my lips closer to his. It’s a moment that’s been coming for a long time. Two souls, once lonely, brought together in the fields but joined on the edge of the lake. When one story doesn’t have a happy ending, there’s always a chance to start another one. I don’t want to stand alone for the rest of my life and wonder what could have been if I’d been given my happy ending. I’m going to go after it.
His lips lightly brush against mine, so quickly that I could debate on whether or not it qualifies as a kiss. The intensity of it is almost more than I can handle. Everything inside me warms. I’ve never experienced anything quite like it. Even when he backs away a few inches to stare into my eyes, I can feel his lips imprinted on mine. He’s branded me. His lips own mine. His heart owns me.
One kiss is all it takes to make me an addict, and I crave a second. I focus in on his perfect lips, hinting for more. This time, Sam doesn’t give; he takes, pressing his mouth to mine. His hand cradles the back of my head, like he’s afraid I might pull away if he lets me go. He may not realize it yet, but he has me … I’ve given him little pieces of myself over all these years. He just had to claim the last piece.
His fingers curl around the back of my neck as his lips continue to work against mine. His lips warm, much more eager than the first time. He sucks my lower lip between his, then presses his tongue into my mouth. It tastes of peppermint as it tangles with mine. He’s methodical, making me feel and want more. Grabbing his shirt, I pull him closer until I can literally feel his heart beating against me. There’s more emotion behind this kiss than I’ve ever felt before. He’s telling me so much without words, and it feels like he’s been holding it in forever. He gently caresses my tongue with his, like he has wanted to do it for a long time and needs to savor it. I wish this moment could last forever … maybe it can. He cups my cheek in his calloused hand, running his thumb along my jawline as he slows his movements.
His lips linger for a minute longer before he presses his forehead to mine. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”
I shake my head, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth in a bid to keep them off him. His eyes burn into mine, igniting a fire deep inside of me. I want to taste those lips on mine again.
“That night you disappeared with Cory at the party … I wanted you even back then. I’d wanted you for a long time. I knew if he asked you to, you’d be his. I didn’t think he deserved you, but I didn’t think I did either,” he says, skimming his fingers across my cheek to brush the hair from my face.
I’d always felt like Sam was trying to play the big brother role. Of course, I thought he was cute … he keeps getting cuter with age … but I never thought he saw me that way. Not then. Things might have been different if he had said something before that night, but we can’t dwell on the things we cannot change, and I’m grateful for the time I spent with Cory. I wouldn’t be the same person I am today without him. Thinking about him now is dampening this moment like rain in the middle of a perfectly sunny day. I hate that this keeps happening to me, but I know it’s inevitable.
When I don’t say anything, he continues, “Do you remember the last day we spent out in the fields before your freshman year?” I nod, holding my breath. He responds by closing his eyes and running his thumb along my lower lip. “I almost kissed you that day. I wanted to, but I was afraid that you didn’t feel the same, and I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”
My heart jumps. I’ve thought about that day so many times over the years. Now, everything I thought I felt that day has been justified. “I think everything happens for a reason,” I whisper. I regret the way I said that as soon as the words leave my mouth. “I don’t mean that I think there’s a reason Cory died, but I do think there’s a reason we couldn’t be together back then. We were both too young.”
He stares at me curiously with a hint of pain in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He closes them, curling his fingers against my face. “I still regret not telling you how I felt. I could have saved you so much pain … sometimes I feel like part of what you’re going through is my fault.”
“What do you mean?”
“At least if you were with me, I could have controlled what you went through. I never would have hurt you, or done anything that could hurt you,” he says, opening his eyes.
I sit back, pulling my face from his as defensiveness takes over. “He didn’t hurt me. I hurt me.”
His face turns in the other direction until all I see is the squint of his eyes and the pensive line his lips have taken. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I always have shitty timing.”
I grab his hand in mine, bringing his attention back to me. “The only way this is going to work is if you accept my past, every part of it, and leave it there. I loved Cory. I still love Cory, and you need to know that.” I rest our joined hands on my thigh, feeling the brush of his arm against my chest. “Love doesn’t fade completely. In a way, I’ll always love Cory.. I need to know that you understand.”
He nods. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“No,” I answer, honestly, “but I want to try. Something about this feels right, and I’m tired of living the way I’ve been living. Besides, I like you, Sam. I want to explore that, but I need us to go slow.”
He smiles, the cocky one I like so much. “Slow is the only way to go when you like something and want to savor it. Once you’re mine, I’m not going to let you leave for anyone else. I’ve waited way too long for this.” He places our hands over his chest. “There are things in here I’ve held onto forever just to give them to you. They belong only to you because you’re the one who made me feel them.”
I lean into him, kissing him sweetly, the way he kissed me the first time. “I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”
“It’s just for you. You’re the only person who ever has or ever will bring it out of me.”
It feels like my heart just blended itself into the lake water, but yet I still feel it beating in my chest. Never in my life did I see this coming, but I realize I’ve wanted it. Subconsciously, I think I’ve wanted it for a long time.
I realize this could all end badly. Another short story that leaves me lying on a pillow soaked in tears, but Sam’s worth it. He’s more than a constant for me. “So, what did you have planned for tonight?’
“I thought we’d put our feet in the water. See how it feels.”
“I think we already got that covered,” I reply, resting my head against his shoulder.
He leans in to kiss my forehead. “I guess all that’s left to do is watch the sunset. You in?”
“We might as well.” I smile, feeling as content as I have in a long time. Life is a journey, and very few come without wrong turns and speed bumps. For the first time in months, I’m finally on the straight and narrow.
“Hey, Sam?”
“Yeah,” he replies, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
I snuggle in closer. “Why did you buy the daffodil?”
“I almost forgot,” he says, reaching to his other side. “I bought it for you. To congratulate you on your first day of work.”
“Thanks, but isn’t that like buying a shake for someone who works in an ice cream shop?”
He laughs. “I wanted to toast to new beginnings and since you don’t drink, I got the next best thing.”
“I’m not following.”
“All flowers have meanings. Didn’t you learn that at work?”
I shake my head, waiting for him to continue. I’ve only spent five hours in that shop. What does he expect?
“The daffodil symbolizes a new beginning.”
“How do you know that?” I ask, crinkling my nose up a bit.
“I Googled it.”
“You Googled flower meanings?” I ask, looking up at his moonlit face. A beautiful crease forms around his lips. I kind of like that I put it there.
&nb
sp; “You should know by now that I’ll do just about anything for you,” he says.
He turns my heart into a vibrant rainbow when the last few months it’s been a raging thunderstorm.
September 22, 2013
THE SUMMER BREEZE BLOWS through my hair as I drive to work with my car window down. I’ve been at the flower shop for a week now, and it’s starting to feel more and more like something normal. Like just another place I go without even thinking about it.
And Sam, I see him everyday, too. Sometimes we meet at the lake and other times we meet in the fields. Being with him has given me hope, but it’s also made me feel conflicted.
Things aren’t serious, by any means, but he says stuff that alludes to something deeper, more meaningful. It’s not that I don’t think it’s a possibility; it just scares the shit out of me. When you open your heart to someone, you also open it to the possibility of heartbreak. That’s what I’m most afraid of now; I lived through it once, and I’m not willing to open myself to it again. Not yet.
There hasn’t been a single day that I haven’t thought about Cory, but as time goes on, the weight on my heart lessens. The pain eases. The guilt still lives inside me, and the thought of him often brings sadness, but I’m able to look back at some memories and smile. And every single day, I find that I’m forgiving myself a little more.
Pulling in front of the flower shop, I glance up at the black and white striped canopy. Taking this job has been the best decision. It’s given me a purpose. It was never my life’s ambition to work with flowers on a daily basis, but I love it. For the most part, my job is to make people happy, and it’s more fulfilling than any other job I could have gotten in this small town.
When I walk in, the shop is empty, which usually means that Ms. Peters is busy working in the back. She’s always swamped, especially on Fridays and Saturdays, because of weddings. Sometimes, when I have a few minutes of downtime between deliveries and helping her prep flowers, I watch her arrange flowers into beautiful bouquets. She mixes colors that I’d never think to put together, but they always looks amazing. She has a talent for seeing things that other people can’t.
The other day she had some flowers she was going to throw out because they were starting to wilt. I stepped in and asked if I could play with them instead. It took me a couple hours, but I created an arrangement of lavender and burnt yellow roses. Those are the colors I imagined using for my wedding … they remind me of the flowers that grow in the fields.
Opening the door to the backroom, I see Ms. Peters assembling flower wreaths. The colors are deep and rich, very much like what you’d expect in autumn.
“Hey, Rachel. How was your weekend?”
“Good,” I say, tucking my hands into my jean pockets. “What’s on the list for today?”
She cuts the stem off a red rose, carefully filling in a gap on the wreath. “This is the last wreath I have to finish, and then I need these taken out to the cemetery.”
“The cemetery?” She’s never asked me to go there before. It’s usually the hospital, offices, or churches … but never there.
“Yeah, a woman called from out of town and wants me to put fresh wreaths on her parents’ graves before the weather turns cold.”
“Okay,” I say quietly, leaning forward on the counter. It’s not as easy to breathe as it was just a couple minutes ago. I haven’t been back there since the first time, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
She drops her scissors, coming to stand next to me. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “I will be.”
“If you’re not feeling good, I can manage.”
“No,” I say, straightening myself up. “I’m fine.”
She walks back to her place at the counter, cutting the stem of another rose—a white one this time. “I wondered if you would be up to going out there.”
I didn’t realize she’d drawn the line between her request and my reaction. I don’t hold anything against her … it’s been months. I should be able to handle this, to be close to Cory.
“I’ve been out there, but it’s hard, you know?”
“I can only imagine.” She doesn’t talk about her personal life, but there’s no Mr. Peters. Mom told me after I took the job that this little shop has always been her life. To an outsider, it might sound sad, lonely, but when I watch her work, I understand it. This is her passion, her peace … she doesn’t need anything else.
The room is quiet for the most part, with only the occasional snip of scissors filling the space. I catch Ms. Peters looking at me every now and then, but she doesn’t say a word. That’s very unlike her. She usually has directions to give, or little tidbits on history and flowers to speak about.
After she finishes the last wreath, she holds it up, making sure everything is perfect and symmetrical. I can always tell if she likes it by the look on her face … she must like what she’s done because a bright smile forms. “All ready to go,” she announces.
“I’ll start bringing them out to my car. Do you have instructions on where they need to go at the cemetery?”
“Of course. Take this one first, and I’ll get the delivery slip for you.”
The smell of fresh roses fills my nose as I step back out into the sun. Having a car that permanently smells of fresh flowers isn’t bad either.
When I walk back into the shop, she has the other wreath tucked away in a box with a delivery slip attached. On top is a bouquet of Gerbera daisies in a variety of colors. I look up at her, confused.
“You said they’re your favorite. Take as much time as you need.”
My eyes tear up. I’m speechless. I’ve experienced more kindness the last few months than I did in all the years before combined. “You didn’t have to.”
“There are lots of things people don’t have to do. The ones who do them anyway are the ones who can make a difference. Always remember that.” She squeezes my shoulder and disappears behind the cooler door. I wish there was something I could give back to her. A way to repay her for all the good things she does, even though I know she doesn’t expect it.
I tuck the second wreath and the daisy bouquet into my backseat before climbing into my car and making my way to the edge of town. I’m so caught off guard by today’s assignment that my hands grip the steering wheel tighter than necessary. I planned to come out here again at some point, but not today. Maybe it was meant to be.
I pull my car along the curb and put it in park, scanning the cemetery to see if anyone else is around. It’s quiet today, with the exception of one landscaper in the distance. After taking a deep breath, I step out of the car and pull the first wreath out of the backseat.
The cemetery isn’t large, which makes it easy to find the gravesite for the couple. I lay the first flower arrangement down and walk back to my car to get the second one along with the flowers Ms. Peters sent just for me. The whole time I’m thinking about what I want to say to Cory that I didn’t get to say last time. That time had been about leaving a piece of us with him, but this time, I feel like I have to take a piece of myself back. I was the one given a second chance, and I can’t let it waste away. It’s not fair to either of us.
By the time I reach Cory’s grave, my body’s wound so tightly I feel sick. I’m nervous about what to say. I’m worried that his mom, or someone else, is going to pick this time to come visit him. For this, I just need it to be him and me. I need him to hear me … only me.
Kneeling in from of the large stone that bears his name, I run my fingertips over each letter. “I know it’s been a few months since I’ve been out here, but I had some stuff to sort out, mostly because I’ve been missing you so much.”
My fingertips trail the date next. “I don’t know if you can see me, but if you can, I need you to know that just because I’ve started living my life again, doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about you. You’ll always be a part of me, no matter where this life takes me.”
A gust of wind blows through, spreading leaves across the g
rass. I sit back, letting my hands fall into my lap. “Anyway, I needed you to know that. If I had a choice, it would always be you.”
Not able to help myself, I run my fingers across the cool stone one more time, branding the pattern to my skin. “I love you, Cory Connors. Don’t you ever forget that, no matter what.”
Closing my eyes, I say a silent prayer, begging for more forgiveness and for God to look over him. It’s the first time I’ve asked for anything as a true believer; I hope that counts for something.
“I have to move on, Cory. I thought about it a lot, and if it were you in my place, I’d want you to be happy. I hope you understand … it doesn’t mean I love you any less.” I probably don’t need to explain my feelings for Sam, but it makes me feel better about it.
Before I get up to leave, I pick up the daisies from the ground and set them carefully in front of his grave. It’s a piece of me I’m leaving here while I take a bigger piece of me back, a part I want to be able to give someone else someday. I always thought I’d find that one person I love and love them all my life. Not all stories are meant to be fairytales—I get that now—but it’s been a hard pill to swallow.
As I walk back to my car, I look at the dates on the tombstones I pass, noting that many of the people buried here lived a long life. Cory’s will always stand out. He’ll always be among the youngest, and I’ll always be the reason for that.
Sam and I made plans to meet tonight after dinner, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it—not right away. I had too much on my mind from my trip to the cemetery this afternoon, and I was back in a place where I felt guilty about moving forward. The whole reason for going there was to let go, but instead I poured antiseptic over an open wound. I’ll heal faster because I did it, but right now, it burns worse than it has in months.
I was supposed to meet Sam at eight.
My eyes didn’t sway from the clock until 8:20 when my cell phone buzzed. It’s him, asking if I’m coming. I begin to type a reply but toss my phone back on the bed. There’s a tiny voice in my head that’s still begging me to go out there, to let the guilt go. But it’s not that easy.
