Forget-me-not

Every Saturday morning, she picked up her coffee on the way to a flower shop she frequented over the years. She stood in front of the closed store that indicated they were no longer in business. Great, Jennie thought to herself as she immediately searched for the nearest one within the area.

She opened the door, careful not to damage the serious amount of potted plants and flowers littered outside the store; unsurprisingly, the inside was just as chaotic. The chimes made the announcement that she was there; from the back Jennie could hear rustling and footsteps, then out popped a head full of silver-dyed hair. "Hey, be there with you in a minute."

"Ah... yes, sure." Jennie nodded slowly and looked around. Just when she was about to bolt out of the shop after minutes of a missing shopkeeper, the silver-haired woman almost but skidded towards her in an effort to make up for slow customer service. "Okay, that took longer than expected. I'm so sorry. Anything I can help you with?"

Jennie waved off the apology and almost felt sorry for the other person's breathlessness. "I'm just looking for..." She said with her voice trailing while looking around. She realized her white lilies seemed to be unavailable while scanning the small space. "I'm looking for lilies?"

The shopkeeper sounded gutted. "Oh, I'm sorry, but, well...that's the reason why I was at the back making calls. My supplier couldn't deliver today. Do you mind telling me for what occasion? I can find an alternative if you're amenable to it."

Jennie turned around and finally paid attention to the woman she was speaking to. She forced a smile out of politeness, responding to the other person's warm, albeit guilty grin. "It's for my wife."

The shopkeeper looked impressed. "Birthday? Anniversary? For how many years? I'm sorry if I'm asking a lot of questions. I find it helpful to be specific so I can find the perfect one." She stepped away from the counter and moved closer to a shelf.

"Uhm, third uh...."

The proprietor nodded and grinned. "Sunflowers. It means loyalty as it only looks to the direction of the sun and the sturdy stem represents strength."

"Okay," she breathed out, appreciating the vivid yellow color and size of the flowers the florist showed. "Sunflowers would be perfect."

She watched as the woman moved about swiftly but with utmost care as well. There was something so organized—unlike her workplace—and so deliberate in the way she gathered up the flowers and wrapped it in beautifully designed brown paper before securing it with washi tape. She looked pleased at herself when she handed it over to Jennie but refused to take her money.

"W-what? No, no," Jennie said as she struggled to take her wallet out with her one hand carrying the large bouquet.

The woman shook her head and laughed. "On me. You wanted lilies. I'm really sorry about that. My supplier sometimes...well...anyway, please. I insist."

Her hands felt cold and sweaty but graciously received the gift. Jennie stared at the bright yellow petals that were so warm and inviting to the eyes. She heard the woman speak softly. "She's very lucky to have a thoughtful partner. Have a good day."

She sat down on the well-trimmed grass and carefully placed the sunflowers on top of her wife's flat marker. "Hey sweetheart. I'm sorry I couldn't get you your favorite today."

Over the last three years, Jennie had woken up the same way, the same hour, and with the same disposition. At the age of 32, she was a widow. It was a whirlwind romance in the tradition of love stories, and her wife, Deiji loved her beyond what she thought she ever deserved. One day, everything was taken away from her. There was a huge part of her that still failed to understand, to accept how anyone can just die like that. The doctors said it was an aneurysm— undetected, unpredictable, a medical Russian Roulette. And it had to be her wife.