Sunflowers and Honey Bees

He used to talk about the first time he saw me standing in the garden outside of Madame Dubose's. I was wearing a yellow sundress, my shoulders bared, and the sun shining around me much like the halo my wheat-blonde hair casted around my shoulders. His friends all said terrible things about my looks. The way he imitates his friend Robbie is almost worth laughing about if it weren't for what he said. He would finish the story every single time with his play-by-play rendition of how he punched him in the mouth for even saying such a thing, in which I would playfully swoon as if I were a damsel in distress and her hero had come to save her.

How used to such luxuries one can become. To be saved is to be thought of. Whether a damsel or an entire country, we are all in need of a hero every once in awhile.

Our love bloomed so unbelievably fast. It was as if that day in the garden represented our entire lives. He was my field of sunflowers, in which I could run through forever, should he let me.

Oh, and let me he did.

Marcus Shamus Lee was a 5'9 (and 3/4) Sergeant General from North Carolina. His sandy, brown hair he kept hanging past his ears and deep brown eyes were enough to get lost in but could also pass for stone cold and aloof should he be barking drill orders to his recruits.

He was so far removed from the military life when he was with me though. He was warm, and soft, and the way he would tuck my hair behind my ears when we would lay down to take naps in the large field in my backyard made me feel more in place than I ever had in my life. I had my own quirks and differences, but he was man enough to see past them, and not only in a tolerable manner, but he could see who I truly was inside, and through prying my outer shell open as if it were a Pistachio, I was able to see him for who he was as well; and the character of the man I saw excited me to the point I could barely even talk about it.

It wasn't as if I could talk about it anyways. Single military personnel are always expected to keep their personal lives private at work. People talked, and heard through the grapevine of course, but every rumour remained justly so; Confirmation straight from the horses mouth was essentially taking your badge, and stomping it into the ground.

He explained all of this to me over lunch one day. He stated that we could no longer meet directly outside of his station for lunch, or after work anymore. A few of his generals were heard snickering and whispering his name. He was about to let it go, but then he turned right back around, and asked them if they would be able to laugh and snicker like such buffoons if they took the remaining 20 minutes of their lunch break to run 50 laps around the track. Him being their superior, they had no other choice but to oblige, although they certainly complained the entire time.

"That must have showed them!" I said excitedly, egging him on for more details.

"Of course it did, Honey Bee," I warmed at his using my nickname. "However I am worried, what is that going to look like on me? It'll seem as if I took their insults personally. Emotions have no place on the battlefield, as my father would say it; Otherwise, God would have made us women."

I raised my eyebrow at the irony of his statement, and we both broke into hushed laughter, as to not bring any attention on ourselves. Regardless, every table had at least one person whom had their eyes peeled on us. It was still quite a new thing for everybody, but I usually had no qualms with telling everybody where they may focus their gazes for the remaining duration of both mine and Marcus' meal.

However, today wasn't that type of day. It was a day of fear and anxiety for what is to come. Marcus was speaking with his superiors and they were in discussion of going to war. He had been dancing around the topic for a few months now, things were becoming more and more heated between "us and them" as Marcus put it.

I guess Im not the only one out there who needs a hero. To try and take him all for myself would be selfish.

After that day, I recall him being more... aloof. I noticed that when I kissed him goodbye a few blocks down from the entrance to the military base, he didnt catch up with any of his friends. I began to notice more and more snickers behind his back as we walked a "safe distance" apart from each other in public. 'No need in being up each others you-know-what's and around the corner' I would often hear him say.

I loved Marcus. Dearly. With everything I had in me... but I couldn't help but feel jealous of the other women. How they got to walk so proudly next to their heroes. I am forever cursed to be that of the other woman, regardless who is strong enough to claim my honour in a room with more than him and I.

I try to think positively should I ever begin to feel envious. I try to remember that we have so much more than an average relationship in private; We have an understanding of each other, that nobody else does.

I go out on my back porch at night and smoke cigarettes, watching the clouds mix with my porchlight. He has always hated the fact I smoke, he says its a mans habit; but he doesn't know that I actually blow smoke signals towards his platoon to show him that I am there, even if just in spirit.

Tonight, my signals just don't seem to reach far enough. I can usually watch them on their travels as his base camp is just a small 4 steps away from my backyard. I can often hear the boisterous noises of chatter during their dinner. Tonight it is quiet, but for the light hums of chatter in each bunker. Marcus was never allowed to tell me which bunker he slept in, he said for safety and security reasons, but I notice, in the far-away distance a figure of a man standing behind the wooden fence and staring to the sky, as if sending an open prayer to The Lord above. After a few moments he then slumps over the wooden rail, and I see his shoulders shake with a sob, before lighting up a cigarette.

My positive mindset was of no use here. My heart was filled with the weight of dread because if my eyes and ears dont deceive me, I knew him.

****

I was just about on my way to meet him the next morning outside of Madame Dubose's, our usual breakfast spot, when I opened up my front door to those big brown eyes, staring not into mine, but through me as a whole.

"Lacey, we need to talk." I noticed his eyes darting from side to side, looking to make sure no familiar faces were watching.

"I was just on my way to Dubose's if youd like to accompany me." I responded, not fully processing the weight of those 5 words.

"That's just it Honey Bee... we can't go to Dubose's anymore. We can't go anywhere. We just received notification about 45 minutes ago. We are going to war tonight. I am not sure when or if I will be coming back, and even when I do, we cannot continue to see each other like this. People are talking a lot louder now than before, and I simply cannot let this.... incident follow me back home, should I make it there. Please understand where I am coming from, and I do not want any theatrics. This is the closest to a goodbye I can give you, and you better take it for what its worth. Goodbye Lacey." He turned around and walked back through my dooryard, onto the road, before turning the corner we used to take together to Dubose's.

I only made my way through processing the first few words before I crumbled into a heap on my porch. I wailed so hard and so forcefully, but absolutely nothing was getting the hurt out.

I spent the rest of the afternoon in an utter daze, not knowing what I had to look forward to anymore. The military wives looked down upon me as if I was a bug that must be squished. They all mourned their husbands potential fate in groups, where I must do it alone.

That night, there was an official goodbye celebration for the men heading onwards to war. I really wanted to stay home, but I simply would be unable to live with myself should I not get one last look at my Marcus. Even if he shall live, this will be the last picture of him I ever get, and it will haunt me in my dreams for the rest of my life.

Weeks and months went on. When soldiers were confirmed to have died in battle, it was announced during the high school football games. What was once a military base had become the new playing field, so I didn't have to face the onslaught of strange, fearful and hateful looks I would get.

It also meant that I would hear every name as it was announced. I would cross my fingers and pray to never hear his name. Even if he was no longer my sunflower field, it meant that somebody else out there deserved his bliss much more than I.

But as spring, turns to fall, turns to winter, every flower must whittle.It was a night in January, I had finally begun to recover from being locked out of paradise, when those 3 names said in succession once again brought me to a pile on the floor.

"Marcus Shamus Lee, aged 28, Death by explosive." the sports announcer read.

I couldn't bring myself to attend the service for all those whom were lost, but after the services, I walked up to the memorial site, covered in photos of those whom made the ultimate sacrifice. My eyes darted the photos until I saw one with him in it. He was so handsome. He was so kind. I was his Honey Bee, and he was my Sunflower. I broke into silent tears once again, my throat burning, aching to let out one single wail.

"Excuse me... Are you Lacey Shonaman?" asked a voice behind me.

I paused. "Yes." I responded.

"Follow me." I turned to see Seargeant Steeves, Marcus' boss, and I began to walk the same familliar trails he once did. It was like a ghost town now. I shuddered at the metaphor.

"I was told by Marcus that should anything happen, I was to find you and give you this." he held out a brown paper box.

"Uhm.. sir I-"

"Don't worry, his secret is safe with me. Its soldiers honours. He said for me to tell you also to open it in private."

I nodded and walked across the street to my house.

I gently opened the box, and in it were various drawn sketches of bees on sunflowers, receipts from Dubose's diner, a couple of the love letters I wrote for him, and in the middle of it all, a photo of him and I, laying in the sunflower field by Dubose's.

On the back, all he wrote was "It was real for me too. Please believe that. Forever yours, Sunflower."

I had no choice but to believe him.