Flowers for my Love

Daisies for Daisy

I walk down the sidewalk. People mill about, some chattering with their friends, some swiping on phones, and some walking silently. I pass a restaurant with outdoor seating. Forks squeak against glassy bowls, and hard, plastic cups clatter on the metal, chicken wire-like tables. A bus hisses by as I press a button on a metal pole. "Wait," it says in a robotic, male voice. I hear faraway sounds of a jackhammer clanging on cement. "Okay," the robotic voice finally says. I step across the thick, white lines painted on the road. The smell of gasoline lingers lightly in the air. I turn onto another sidewalk, briskly walking past a pizza place and an ice cream shop. The sharp autumn air slips into my open jacket, chilling me. I pull the sides of my coat together and push forward until I come across the shop with a beautiful bouquet painted on the glass door. I pull on the icy, metal handle and open the door.

The second I step inside, I'm greeted by dozens of overwhelming, floral scents. A young boy- maybe ten or eleven- nervously scours a collection of roses while a tall woman studies some snap dragons curiously. 

I cautiously shuffle my way through the shop. I trip over my foot, and my face is swatted by a broad-leaved flower. "Agh-"

"Hi! Can I help you?"

I turn towards the kind voice and am met by the youthful face of the cashier. He's young, maybe late twenties at most.

"Hi! Uh, I'm looking for the daisies-"

"Daisies, eh? They're right over here," he says, motioning to a bed of beautiful white-and-yellow flowers. "Oh, erm... yeah, I'll have three of those," I say stiffly. "Three? Alright," the cashier responds as he cuts three daisies.

He wraps the daisies in a damp paper towel, then ties it with a red ribbon. "That'll be eight dollars," he grins. I awkwardly pull a ten-dollar bill out of my pocket and unfurl it, then pass it over the counter. "Eight...ten..." he mumbles as he pulls two one-dollar bills out of the register. He hands me the bills and the flowers. "Here you go! Have a nice day!" he beams. "You too!" I try to say in my most excited voice.

As I exit the shop, I stuff the bills in my pocket and take a deep breath. 

In...

Out.

I start walking at a brisk pace in the vague direction of my next destination. An auburn leaf floats gently on a light breeze and lands in my tangled hair. I brush it away.

My destination is now in view. As I approach the large, brick building, my throat gets tight and my mouth becomes dry.

I heave open the thick, wooden door and step inside the hospital.

The second I cross the threshold, I'm attacked by the stinging smell of medical...alcohol...stuff. I still don't know what that stuff is, but it sure smells like hospitals. Or do hospitals smell like it?

I'm able to distract my mind for a short period of time before I'm snapped back to reality by the secretary clearing her throat.

"Hello...Alex," she croaks. I swear, this lady tries to be a carbon copy of Roz from Monsters, Inc.

"...Hello," I say in my sweetest voice. "I'm here to see-"

"Room two-forty-seven," she grimaces.

"Yeah, uh... thanks," I stammer before swiftly striding to the elevators. I stab the "Up" button and wait. Soon, one of the elevator signals chime, the doors slide open, and I step in. I poke another button, and soon, I'm shuffling through the halls, soon, I'm standing outside her door, and soon, my hand is on the door handle.

I hold back tears and release the door handle briefly, wiping away the saline liquid pooling in my eyes. 

My hand returns to the bronze door handle. I take a deep breath.

In...

Out.

I count to three.

One...

Two...

Three.

I force myself to open the door. The room is a dingy yellow, the kind you'd typically find in creepypastas and horror movies. 

And there she lay, pale and sickly. It kills me to see her so weak. Her breathing is raspy. I don't think she's awake.

I manage to turn my eyes away from her frailness and towards the crystal vase of daisies. They're beginning to wilt, so I grab the vase. First, I pull out the wilted flowers and gently place them in my backpack. Then, I take the vase to the bathroom and dump out the water, refilling it in the sink. I untie the small bundle of daisies and gently place them in the vase, then replace the vase in its spot on the windowsill.

I walk back to her bed and crouch next to her, brushing my hand against her fragile shoulder. "Daisy... Daisy, I'm here," I say in a hoarse whisper. She inhales deeply and shifts a little, her eyes fluttering open. 

She glances at me weakly. "Alex..." she rasps. I can feel the tears returning. "Alex..." she wheezes again, this time with a little more strength. "I'm here," I whisper. There's no point in not crying. 

"I..." I sniff and wipe my face. "I brought you flowers," I say, pointing to the fresh daisies. I'm trying to smile, trying to look brave for her, trying to help her forget that she has such little time left, but I know it's pointless. Neither of us will ever forget. 

She's dying. And it's killing me.

"Alex... thank you," she weakly whispers. I nod, a pained smile upon my face, tears rolling from my eyes. She moves her hand towards mine. I take it and squeeze it gently, careful not to damage her fragile skin. She coughs a terrible cough, a wheezing cough that hurts to listen to.

My watch beeps. I have to leave. "Daisy, hon, I have to go," I breathe, kissing her on the cheek. She reaches out towards me. "Wait, Alex," She croaks. "You see that drawer? Open it," she orders. I glance over at the mahogany bedside table, pulling open the top drawer.

It's empty.

I look at Daisy, really playing up the confused look. She hoarsely chuckles. "You... you idiot, the bottom drawer," she jokes. I open the bottom drawer. Inside, there is a small wrapped present. I pick it up and carefully unwrap it. Under the wrapping paper is a small velvet box. I gently open it.

Inside is a rose-gold ring, shaped and etched to look like a chain of daisies. It's beautiful. I admire it for what feels like hours before looking back up at Daisy. She's looking at me, smiling. I think there are tears on her cheeks. I'm crying, too. "Thank you," I whisper. She nods. "I love you," she utters. 

"I love you too."

I blow her a kiss as I slip out the door.

Something was different during this visit. And I know what was off. 

She's gone now. I know it.

I turn around to face her door. I don't want to go inside, but I'm too curious to stay out.

Her eyes are closed. She is at rest. She looks so peaceful, with a small smile gracing her face. Her arms lay straight at her sides, and as I look closer, I can see her left hand. There's something around her ring finger. As I walk closer to inspect, I see it.

She has a rose-gold ring, shaped and etched to look like a chain of daisies.