Memories of the Daisies

“I’m so sorry for yesterday,” Daniel whispered in my ear. He tightened his hold on my waist and leaned down further to lay his head on my shoulder as we danced.

I ran my fingers through the soft brown hair on his neck, his soft curls dancing between my fingers. “You were just worried; I shouldn’t have worried you like that.”

Daniel nodded, “I know we were both angry with each other, but I just wanted to know you were safe.”

In the darkness with the candles lighting our dining room table, we danced to the soft music playing on his phone. The deep smell of bergamot filled me when I took in my favorite cologne of his.

“I think tonight made up for yesterday.” I run my hand down his wide shoulders to his waist, taking in the fabric of his button-down shirt and his shape beneath it.

“So, what you’re saying is, when you get mad, I should make dinner, dessert, and surprise you after you get home. You might get tired of that after a while.”

I can’t help but laugh, “I highly doubt that.” I grip his shirt at his waist, “I’m sorry for being mad at you for something you can’t control. You’re always working, and I just missed you. You work to keep us going and I shouldn’t complain.”

Daniel pulls away and holds out his arm for me to spin into him. I hold back my nervous laugh and try not to trip on my own feet. Seconds later I’m back in his arms, tightly wrapped and feeling giddy. Daniel stares down at me, his stare full of love and sincerity.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.” His lips press against my forehead.

Two years back from today and I’m staring down at the polaroid left on his bedside of me sleeping during that night. The night after I begged him to work less, and begged him to spend more time with me. My dark hair in the photo is messy and covers most of my face, the pale green blanket is pulled up to my chin covering almost every inch of me. In the white space below the photo, in his sloppy handwriting, is the date with a small flower sketched on the side.

I lay the polaroid back in the exact spot he left it and resist the temptation to stay in bed clutching it like I have many times before. The entire house is silent as I walk into the kitchen and help myself to a glass of red wine. I’m mindful of the handful of acetaminophens that I took earlier, and I savor the delicate taste of the dark wine. As I sip at my wine, I look around at our small one-bedroom house. The only thing uncleaned is the few items I have on the kitchen counter that I just used. I look around knowing that his stuff will not be scattered on the blue couch like it used to always be, his work shoes sit beside the front door rather than scattered and in the way. For the past years, my things have replaced his, papers that I need to grade are stacked on our wooden coffee table instead of his course work that needed to be done. His incomplete work sits neatly on the small desk that sits in the corner of our living room. His desk is untouched and full of dust.

All the hard work that he put into school, was a waste. I thought I would feel proud when I became a teacher but walking into work is nothing but a reminder that I finished school too late. Coworkers always talk about their lives and complain about their spouses and I try to ignore them and wait for the end of the day. I see the pictures that sit on their desk, scroll through Facebook and see their vacation photos during the summer. When they smile it’s genuine, they probably don’t feel like every day is the same. I don’t think they wake up and wonder how and when they got to work because time passed without their knowledge.

The twisting sensation in my gut does little to affect me but I acknowledge its presence and gulp down the rest of my glass. Everything is in order. Pulling the small bin from the side of my counter I swipe in the loose items, my empty pill bottle, a couple of chocolate wrappers, and the water bottle I finished. On every wall, I become aware of his presence. In every photo we have hung up, he is there smiling. In the photo of us as children, we are sitting on the swings that my parents built for me in our backyard. We’re both smiling at my parents with watermelon juice running down our faces.

In another photo, Daniel has me on his back. Both of us with our scene haircuts and studded belts. My green and black-gloved hand are in a peace sign as the other clutches a smiling Daniel. I almost laugh when I think about our middle school days and how we both swore we were so awesome with our band tees. Then there is us graduating, Daniel with his mother and their matching smiles waving his cap in the air. I can almost hear him chanting that he finally finished.

Daniel is everywhere I look, in every photo, every piece of furniture. I can feel the weight on my body get heavier, my shoulders aching as I lean down on the counter and rub my face. I can feel myself becoming lightheaded, the weightless feeling in my head making me feel weak as I stand there. I don’t know what makes me leave the house, but I swiftly get up, ignoring the spinning when I move too fast. The back door is opened and shut leaving me to the crisp wind of spring. The yard is finally full of life unlike during the winter.

The garden in the corner near the white fence blooms with our favorite plants, tomatoes, potatoes, and strawberries. In the middle of the yard sits the round glass table Daniel picked out when we first bought our house. Yearlong his mother comes to fill the table with seasonal flowers, all of his favorites from when he grew up helping her in her floral shop. The thought of her almost brings me to my knees. I wonder if she will forgive me, I know she will keep the house in memory of the two of us, but I wonder if she and my parents will be able to live knowing that they lost both of us. I don’t make it far into the yard before I do finally give out and meet the ground.

All around the fence are bushes of flowers, planted by the two of us throughout the first year of living here. White, purple, red, all around me. I allow myself to fall back onto the grass and feel it prick through my thin t-shirt. Slight stabs on my skin with every movement. The aroma of the flowers stills everything in me as I look up at the evening sky. Light pinks, lavender, and the lightest blue mix with the darkening blue to guide the clouds. The gentle fragrance of the flowers around me brings tears to my eyes.

Daniel's voice echoes in my head, “We can’t water them every day and we have to keep track of the weekly forecast.”

I nodded and wiped the dirt from my gloves, “What if it rains all week?”

“That’s why we got lifted beds, if it rains, we can cover everything in a tarp. Keeps everything from being washed away or overwatered.” Daniel reached behind himself and pulled a white daisy from the wooden wagon of flowers, “I know you don’t like all the white, but this flower was my aunt's favorite. Before she passed my mother would always gift her white flowers for birthdays and stuff.”

I chewed at the inside of my cheek, “You miss her, huh?”

Daniels’s eyebrows creased in thought, his forehead wrinkling together slightly, “Every day. She was my book buddy.”

“And flower buddy,” I added. Daniel shrugged.

“That was more of my mom.” Daniel laughed slightly, “You and she are my book buddies and she’s passed the torch to you so you’re going to have to deal with me bugging you about every book.” His small smile didn’t reach his eyes or bring out his dimples, so I took his hand in mine.

“Book buddies for life.” I lifted his hand to my lips and pressed a gentle kiss to it, “Now let’s get those daises planted.”

I turn to find our garden, desperate to look at the white petals that take over the bushes. Instead of our flowers, I come face to face with chocolate brown eyes, swimming with emotions.

“You’re here,” I mumble. I tightly clutch the grass in my hands, keeping myself in touch with reality.

For the first time in forever, I feel my smile take over, lose myself to the heat that overwhelms everything in me. Somehow, he’s more gorgeous now than he was before. The dimples on his tanned face deepen as he smiles, his teeth full and white. Unlike the last time I saw him, his cheeks are full and flushed, his natural blush filling in the cheeks that I spent every night caressing.

“Where else would I be?” There’s a crashing inside me and a bubble of laughter comes out with tears following in their wake. His voice was low, soft, a reminder of his gentleness. I can’t stop the tears of relief that stream down, the tightness in my chest loosens and I take a breath.

“I’ve missed you so much.” I cry out. He laughs, turning onto his side and holding his head up with his hand. He reaches out and pushes the hair from my face.

“I’ve missed you too. Please don’t cry, Kendra.” His sharp brows bunch in worry, “I’m right here, I’ve always been right here.”

“But it’s not the same.” He looks at me, completely taking me in as I am now. Slowly his gaze follows the length of my body, his eyes masking over with a watery shine.

“Been a while huh?”

“Understatement of the century.” I joke. I watch him look me over again and again until it finally hits him.

“You tried?” I know he knows the answer from the way he finally meets my eyes.

“I tried.” The tears spring from his eyes in a slow trail, he blinks them away soaking his long lashes in them. I ignore the piercing pain in my stomach and chest and focus only on him.

“I can’t believe you’re finally here.” Daniel slides his hand in mine, loosening the grip I have on the grass underneath us. It’s just like I remembered, warmth running through him, his hands rough with callouses on his palms but soft on the top.

“Do you remember the last thing you said to me?” Daniel asks as his smile returns. I nod, too choked up and busy taking him in to answer with words. He had left the house that morning, his lunch in his hand, hair tousled from waking up too late. He had pulled me in and kissed my forehead like every other morning and I told him I would miss him until he came home.

“You said that you wanted to spend your life with me. That you would do anything if I woke up.”

Confused I flinch slightly at his words. Flashes of Daniel lying in the hospital bed, his head wrapped with white gaze, his eyes shut tight, tubes in his nose, and plugged up to everything around him fill my thoughts. The accident created a different version of my boyfriend, someone helpless and gone from the world. Drastically different from the tall energetic man that laughed with everyone.

“I’m sorry I didn’t wake up.”

I bite my lip crushing my lack of control over my emotions. I shake my head as I hold his hand tighter, “You heard me? They said you were already gone.”

“I did, you were always holding my hand, always trying to sound tough. I could tell you wanted to cry but you never did. One moment I was hearing everything you said to me and suddenly you weren’t there anymore.” Daniel sucks in a deep breath, “I knew you didn’t leave me. I knew you’d never leave me.”

“I’ll never leave you.” As the words left my mouth a sigh followed, my entire body was released from the weight that’s been crushing it since Daniels’s death a year ago. My shoulders lift with relief and the grass underneath me feels softer, less like sharp blades poking at me. Suddenly with all the weight gone, I want to sleep.

Daniel leans over and kisses my forehead before pulling me into his arms. I snake my arms around his waist and lay my head on his chest. “It’s okay now, Kendra. Rest. I’ll be right here.”

With his soft-spoken words whispered into my ear, I watch the white daisies beside us gently blown in the wind until my eyes close. I listen and count the thumping of his heartbeats on his warm chest. One. Two. Three. Four. Before I take one last breath and allow myself to fall into a deep sleep.