I watched the sweet coneflowers sway in
the breeze, a small relief from the heavy heat that held their leaves
down. The common daisies roasted on the grass in a pile next to me.
Pretty, but alien. In the wrong place, even the best of things can be
bad. Bellis perennis, beauty everlasting, drying out, dying, the end
of forever.
* * * *
“Forever?” She asked.
I smiled and nodded.
* * * *
When the night comes, enveloping us in
shadows, daisies close up their little white flowers. Hide innocence
away from the horrors of the night, from the cruel monsters that
stalk us through the darkness. But when the sun, our hero, finally
arrives and casts away the army of darkness with its widespread
flames, the daisies wake up and stretch their petals as if the night
was just a dream.
* * * *
We met in a florist shop. In those
days, I just worked a cash register, took orders, and handed people
their bundles of beauty.
“Do you have daisies? Daisies are my
favorite,” were her first words to me.
* * * *
But not all of us get to hide from the
night. I lie awake at night staring at the faint outline of the dead
dried daisies on my bedside table. I've been told insomnia is the
mind trying to force me to deal with the thoughts I repressed during
the day. But all I hear is the screaming of the silence. I lie there
until the forever of the night is temporarily slain by the sun's
sword.
* * * *
'Daisy' was her favorite nickname.
“It makes me feel pretty, makes me
feel eternal.” She'd tell me, but I would never have to ask.
I just loved seeing her light up at the
sound of my voice.
* * * *
I remember that night, that last night.
The February frost had covered our windows, making it so that the
yellow light of the streetlights illuminated every icy vein like a
stained glass window.
But I was outside, just returning from
work a bit late. From the base of the apartment building, I could
just barely make out a little flicker of a flame inside. The cold
rushed me to the door without a thought, but it was locked.
As I fumbled with my key, I imagined
her sitting on the floor in our living room, legs crossed and
surrounded by candles. It was a winter habit of hers. She said it
reminded her of the warmth of the sun. I had figured that she had
locked the door to keep strangers out in case she fell asleep.
* * * *
Daisies are a bit of a weed. They pop
up everywhere and are hard to get rid of. It's like every time we
promise forever, another one pops up, and, like the memory, lingers
until the white comes to blot it all out. I used to let them grow,
let the little promises of forever fill my garden. But those days
have passed.
* * * *
She wasn't in the living room. Candles
formed a line to the bathroom. The fake daisies we kept in the
apartment were now scattered all over its floor. I might have thought
it was romantic if it wasn't for the silence. It was eerie and
unfamiliar, but now it's all I know.
* * * *
Sometimes the silence stops and I
dream. I always wake up in tears because when I dream, I see her.
Sometimes she speaks to me. Sometimes she laughs at me. Sometimes I
walk through a candle-lit apartment to the bathroom.
* * * *
When I opened the door, I could barely
see anything. There was a single lit candle and it was nearly
extinguished. Its dim light barely outlined her head sticking out of
the bathtub.
I said her name softly. No reply.
Hesitantly, I flicked the bathroom
light on. I was blind for a second, a sweet second I wish lasted
forever.
When my eyes adjusted, I saw her in the
tub. She looked so tranquil, so peaceful, completely undisturbed by
the bright light. She was in that sleep I crave now, total serenity,
no pain, no dreams, just the nothingness of the void.
I stepped towards her to wake her, to
run my fingers through her dark brown hair, and kiss her on the
forehead. But on my third step, I accidentally kicked something
across the floor. When I glanced down at it, I realized why she was
so tranquil.
She had been having trouble sleeping
for months. Chronic insomnia. So we got her sleeping pills. I had
never seen her take one before, but she seemed to be a bit better.
When I looked down at the empty pill
bottle and then her motionless body in the bathtub, I understood why.
She was saving them for her own forever.
-Zero
