Aftermath

Part 25

Healing. Better. Normal.

Three words constantly floating around my mind.

The shooting had taken something from me. Not only my baby and nearly my husband, but my sense of peace and security. And I knew it was going to take a lot to get that back.

Soon enough, I started to feel safer at the hospital, and when I was alone at home. Less jumpy and fearful of things around me.

As much as I hated to admit it, the therapy was helping. Six months since the shooting, I rarely had nightmares anymore despite the fact that I was off the SSRI drugs that had first been prescribed to me. 

Today was Derek's birthday. He was working during the day, but I had taken off early to get the house set up for him. No big surprise part or anything, just something romantic for the two of us.

I made sure all my roommates were out of the house for the night. My husband and I would really be alone.

I wasn't one for big romantic gestures. But Derek sure was. He was cheesy, and I remember with a smile building him the house of candles all those years ago. 

If he had done something like what I was doing now for me, I would have faked the happiness. I would have said thank you and pretended to love it, but I really didn't like these all out romance things.

His shift ended at 6:00, so he should be here at around 6:30. It was currently 5:00.

I had plans. Big, surprise birthday plans just for the two of us. 

First thing I did was clear enough space in the living room enough to set up a small table. I covered it with a silk white tablecloth and set it with the china my mother had left here.

I built a fire and compiled what seemed like every single blanket in the house into a makeshift bed in front of the fireplace, knowing we would make good use of it later.

The balloons. White and gold and silver bunches of them on either side of the fireplace. 

It was 5:30. I had to get cooking.

That's right, I said cooking. I pulled out a recipe book, and started to make Baked Lemon Garlic Salmon.

Derek loved fishing, and he loved to eat the fish he caught. So it was only fitting I would cook fish. I had read over this recipe multiple times before I finally started actually making it. 

This was terrifying, I was an absolutely horrible cook. I just really wanted to make sure I didn't give the love of my life food poising on his birthday.

So far so good. Salmon was cooking. Now I just had to make sure it was cooked right. 

While I waiting, I pulled out the candles. The fire was crackling, which gave off some light, but I placed enough candles around the living room to equal a regular lamp.

Too much?

Too much.

I took a few away, dimming it enough for it to be romantic but not so you couldn't see where you were walking. Perfect.

6:00. Half and hour until he got home. Next step, rose petals. I pulled the fresh petals I had bought earlier out and sprinkled them all over the floor, realizing only after the fact that these were going to be a huge pain in the ass to clean up later. 

Whatever. Who cared about later? The timer buzzing for the salmon alerted me it was done, and I rushed into the kitchen to test it.

It looked good, and the mouthwatering smell almost made me want to eat it right then and there. The sides were done as well.