The last time I opened up to somebody, was when I was eighteen. That was the last time I was naïve. He broke my heart, naturally. After that, I tied myself to my flowers. People around thought me weird. What difference would it make anyways? I had to earn. My father was paralyzed to the bed. My mother, dead...
I hoped to see him, but he did not turn up. I kept looking around, but he was nowhere to be seen. The strawberry basket lay empty on the table, and there was no camera flashing around.
People came into the shop, and they left. I searched for him in every face, I longed for him to suddenly appear with his camera. I wanted to look at him secretly while he would be lost capturing pictures.
But no, he did not come, and the day passed.
Is it possible to fall for a person within a span of just two days? Was it just the desperation that was
building up within me, or was it something else? I don’t know..
Maybe he realized that I’m nothing but a rotten flower girl.
Every Sunday I go to my mother’s grave, and cover it with all sorts of flowers. I sit there and talk to her. I tell her about how hard my father was trying to survive. I then venture into the woods to collect wild flowers and berries. I sit and watch the canopies of the trees weaving garlands from the flowers.
It’s been a week since I last saw him. The shop feels empty. I miss his presence. I don’t water the flowers. I flip through the pages of the newspaper, not interested in reading anything. And then, the exhibition catches my eyes. I don’t know how to react to it. I throw the paper away and close the shop for the remaining day.
But then, as the evening approaches, I find myself sitting infront of the mirror and untangling my hair. My mother’s silk dress fits me perfectly. My hair falls on my shoulders. I tab my neck with the perfume that
lay untouched since ages, and walk up to my father.
“You look just like your mother.” His voice is a soft whisper. I hold his hands and kiss them softly. “Is it okay to let love in, when it’s at your doorstep?” I ask. “You’ll regret if you let it go.”
“Thank you father. I’ll be back soon.”
I never believed in happy endings. Fairy tales were just a fantasy.. But when I saw a shadow linger outside my shop, I did hope with all my heart that it would be him..
“I knew you’d come.” He said, as he came closer to me.
“Where were you for so long?” I asked as he took my hand and started to walk.
“You’ll see.” He said.
And yes, I
did see. I saw something that was beyond imaginable.
The pictures hung on the walls. I examined them intensely, not being able to believe what I saw.
I saw my pictures. Pictures in which my messy hair fell over my eyes, the ones in that I held a scissor between my teeth…The ones I were laughing in, eating strawberries, smelling flowers.. And also the ones in which I sat waiting for him to come. Wondering where he was gone.
The last picture that hung on the wall, was of me kneeling down before my mother’s grave, laying flowers before her.
I stand there, not knowing how to react. I just stand there, and when he comes and holds my hands tightly, I melt.
“You never left..” I whisper into his ears.
“I told you I would follow your smell, didn’t I?” And then he smiles…taking me into his arms.
I never cried when my mother died. I was too scared that I might not be able to stop. My sadness came out in the form of anger, in the form of detachment…
But with him, I let it all out. I emptied myself to him. He held on to me.
“Close your eyes.” He said.
“Just close them, will you.”
I do as he tells me to. I wait patiently as he opens my hair. I feel him brush the tangles off my hair. He then gently kisses my shoulders and whispers into my ears. “Open them now..”
“How… How could you make a tiara?” I ask, keeping my gaze fixed.
"Your father guided me.” He looks into my eyes, and I’m in for a loss of words.
“Will you ma
rry me?” He asks.
“Yes. Yes I will..” The words come out, before I have time to think. But then, for a change, I didn’t want to think.
Is it possible that just one person can get your heart racing at the very first moment? Yes, it is. Even for someone like me..
And yes, the story ends here.. and now I'm out of ideas for a new story!
Thank you for reading :)