Strongholds of Love

(includes mention of death)

I wake up in that small, monotone apartment and put on that same pair of faded jeans and another one of those blue shirts with that same landscape and gardening company logo and the same gaiter mask I'd worn since I started this job. I would be upset about the same old routine if I was still the same person I was before I met her. Now, its just another step to see her again.

Samantha. The most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. How cliche of me, but love will do that to you. Of course, I never meant to fall in love. But Samantha… Sam… Man, if I had a penny for every time I thought of that woman, $262,656 would fill my bank account. Since the day I met her in June and these past ten months I've spent every day with her, there hasn't been a day, a second, a moment I haven't spent thinking of her. Her face, her laugh, her smile, her eyes, her jokes, her hands, her voice, her dialect, her accent, her hair, her beauty mark under her left eye, her eyebrows that furrow when she reads under her willow tree on that oak bench I built for her with my own hands so she could have a place to rest and read in the place she loved the most.

As her gardener, I've come to learn what she enjoys in these months. Everyday except Saturdays I was there, talking for the hours I was there. I tended to her plants with almost as much care as I listened to her jokes, her complaints, her sorrows, her dream. She is the very embodiment of perfection.

My cat meows at my feet, her huge eyes locked on my face. Her tail swishes behind her as her small body rubbing against my legs in an attempt to get my attention. I pat her and walk to the door, but she follows, seemingly unsatisfied with the few pats. I smile at her attention-seeking behavior, knowing I've spoiled her to this point. I even named her Cleopatra.

I grab my phone and keys and head out, driving to her house with the contentment of knowing I was closer to my love. My hands relaxed on the steering wheel, my body driving on autopilot as my thoughts drift to Sam. She's probably working in her office at this moment, brows furrows most likely, hands on the keyboard that would rather be holding a book. Is she waiting for me? Is she thinking of me? I wouldn't doubt it. We've gotten so close, spending almost everyday together. She's also opened up to me in that time, trusting me with those vulnerable thoughts she would die before saying to any of her upper class circle. And I cherish that trust. Its the best gift I could receive in this lifetime.

I park in front of her house, walking up and admiring her front lawn. My work as well. I don't knock. She gave me a spare key. But I whistle and the dog barks so she knows I'm here. I lock the door behind me and crouch to pet Simba, her protective German shepherd whose trust I've earned as well.

"What a good boy you are, yeah?" I murmur as he sits proudly and accepts the pets.

I stand back up and make my way to the back door. Before I reach for the handle, I hear her get up and walk down the hall. I smile behind my mask and wait for her.

"Will? Is that you?" she calls as she finally emerges. There she stands, looking exhausted but ever so beautiful. I could tell she'd been working all night too. Her dark circles gave her away, almost as much as the lingering fatigue in her eyes that her greeting smile couldn't quite wash away.

"Yes, Samantha. You seem… lively," I joke, tilting my head to the side to examine her more. She looks flustered but smiles more in my presence.

"I was up all night working…. Is it that obvious?"

"Come on," I say instead, holding the door open. "Grab your book. We'll check on the flowers."

With relief and excitement, Sam grabs her fantasy book and eagerly walks out. I follow behind, and behind me follows Simba as is custom. We walk the cobblestone path I paved myself as well to the garden, luscious and riveting in its colors and blooms. Not a wilted petal, not a damaged leaf. I would never let such imperfections inside of her sanctuary. Our sanctuary.

We enter through the arch of ivy, our heads turning back and forth as to not miss a plant, our feet moving in sync at a snail's pace. We see it everyday, yet the beauty of it never ceases to amaze us. Not much changes on a daily basis, but if you compare it to when I first started this garden with her…. well, you shouldn't compare a kindergartner's drawing to Monet. Because everyday, something new happened, even something minute, and, over time, those little changes that created the place we love today. We loved it when it began because we knew it would bloom magnificently. So we waited for it and patience was rewarded. Now its our favorite place to be because can admire the blossoms of our work and feel a sense of pride.

We reach that oak bench and she lowers herself gracefully onto it, opening her book in her lap. Her brown hair falls perfectly around her face as she tilts her head ever so slightly to read the page. Her brows furrow, my favorite expression, and she almost immediately gets lost in that story. How can someone be so beautiful doing something so simple? Regardless, it was a sight for myself and myself to see alone. How prideful I've become of seeing Sam in her relaxed state. Who could blame me? Ten months, I waited for these moments like waiting for a butterfly to emerge from its chrysalis. And she was a worthy butterfly.

I begin tending to the plants carefully, watering in amounts only my eyes could know and that differed from plant to plant. I prune, I water, I trim, I weed, I watch. Typically, I'm never this particular. Never cared too much about details, only getting the job done. But when she's around, and when it's for her, I'm more than happy to be meticulous.

After half an hour of said meticulousness, I return to her side, sitting beside her on the bench and watching her read. She glances up at me and smiles, a soft, graceful curve of her beautiful lips. I glance at her book.

"I read the first one you recommended to me," I say quietly, nodding towards her book. Her face brightens a bit.

"You did?" she asks, tucking her hair behind her ear and closing the book enough to glance at the cover.

"Yeah… it was great. Mind if I borrow this when you're done?" I propose. Before her, I never read. Never was interested in those kinds of fantasies. But to absorb myself in something that she enjoyed, something she escaped reality in… that was another form of change I'd undergone because of her. It was an immersive activity I find to be refreshing in a sense. I sometimes wonder if I treasured it because she enjoyed it or if I simply like to read now. Probably mostly the first given that I constantly imagine her view on every line whenever I read books she likes.

"Of course! I would love it if you read it, there's a huge plot twist I've been dying to talk to someone about," she rambles excitedly and we spend the next hour discussing the first book. I could talk to her all day about anything. I mean it. That's how I know its love, too. Because before her, if I wasn't interested in the topic, I wouldn't listen to anyone. I think she's changed me for the better.

After the hour, I stand, preparing to leave.

"Leaving already?" she asks softly, looking up at me from the bench with those delicate brown eyes.

"It's been almost three hours since I got here, Samantha," I remind gently, smiling with amusement beneath my gaiter mask, but she can see my blue eyes smiling anyway.

She blinks in surprise, glancing at her phone to confirm before laughing a bit. Angelic laugh she has. What I wouldn't give to hear that laugh everyday. To wake up to that laugh instead of my lonely apartment… it'd be a dream come true.

"I guess time does fly when you're having fun! Remind me next time not to rant so much, Will," she jokes.

"I think I'll let you rant next time too. I enjoy listening to you…. If I could, I'd do it for longer than the three hours we spend together," I confess, causing her face to flush slightly. She's smiling still, so she clearly liked that statement. Good. Finally… I'm growing the courage to flirt. I already knew the chemistry was there between us, so seeing it grow past the look in our eyes is more exciting than I anticipated.

"Really…?" she whispers, as if testing this new development.

"Really."

"Then… I'll be sure to rant to you more often…."

There it is. Now I know for certain I haven't been delusional about our relationship. Yes… okay… don't mess this up, Will.

"Yeah. I'll be listening whenever you do, Sam. You're… definitely a priority in my life right now," I admit hesitantly before smiling a bit again, trying to be more honest with her.

"I am?" She looks surprised again, but this time there's signs of hope in those big eyes. "Y-you…. You're a priority for me too…. If I'm being honest… you mean a lot to me. You help me unwind and de-stress from my life…. It means more to me than you know. I've grown to trust you. More than my family…. Is that too much?"

I shake my head and take her hand, helping her stand. "No. Your trust.… it's never too much for me. It's something I value, something precious to me. I swear to always be here for you, no matter what."

She smiles, a glowing smile that just melts me.

I get home later in the evening, having spent a while longer at her house after that vulnerable moment. I take my mask off, grinning widely as I pick my cat up and hold her high above my head.

"I had the best day ever, Cleo," I whisper to her. She meows softly, quite atypical to her usual happy mewls of greetings when I get home.

"Aww, is somebody tired?" I murmur as I kiss her face all over. "Sweet angel needs to go to bed."

I lay her in her cat bed and she starts to get up before flopping back down and sleeping almost immediately. I walk to my room, leaving her alone for the night as I ready myself for bed, my movement lighter than it's been in so long.

I slip into bed, fatigued but happy. I notice a missed message from my sister, Kaley, but don't have the energy to answer. I fall asleep as quickly as Cleo.

The next day is Saturday, so I decide to go out to this cafe Sam recommended me and read the book she lent me. I wander in, looking around in appreciation of the cozy vibes she had described perfectly to me before. The warm fairy lights strewn across the ceiling from wall to wall above me, the brown wooden plank floor that welcome you, the dark oak tables and chairs that are perfectly positioned by the large window taking up most of the wall on both the east and west side of the building. I suppose they did that for those who want to sip coffee and watch the sunrise or sunset in peace.

"Large… caramel frappuccino, please," I order, recalling what she recommended me to drink too. I would've never ordered such a sweet drink before I met her. But if she recommends it, it's worth it.

I take a seat and pull her book out, setting it on the table and opening it, almost with a sort of reverence. I begin reading and get lost in it once again, noticing but choosing to ignore the constant messages that Kaley keeps sending me. I silence my phone and put it on Do Not Disturb without reading them, determined to get as much of the book finished this weekend to be able to discuss it with Sam on Monday.

Suddenly, as someone walks past me, I catch her scent. The same smell of vanilla perfume and her home I've grown to relish. My head snaps up to the woman walking to another table, and there she is. My Samantha, visiting the cafe the same day as me at the same time as me! What are the odds?

I mentally prepare myself to approach, closing the book and fixing my hair and shirt before walking to her table. I take a deep breath on the way before smiling warmly at her when I stop at her table.

"Hey, Sam," I greet, trying to be confident but failing a bit as my voice is weaker with nerves. I'm wearing my favorite band's t-shirt, baggy pants and my hair is messy, unlike how I usually am around her.

She glances up, returning my smile with a small, polite one. My smile withers a bit, feeling discouraged at the formal expression of curiosity rather than her usual warmth with me.

"Hi…. So sorry but… do I know you? You seem quite familiar, I just can't quite seem to remember," she says gently, but even her voice lacks the familiar tone I've grown accustomed to. What is going on right now…?

Then, as sudden as a rat trap closing, I realize it. She truly doesn't recognize me. The gaiter is missing. My hair and clothes are completely different. My expressions are being shown to her now. My voice lacks the confidence I have when its just us and I have that stupid mask on. Mask…. that's it…. I've always worn a mask for her.

I feel a bit dizzy, as if the world I knew and the life I've been living for these past ten months have finally been brought to the light in my mind. I don't respond to her. I grab my things and leave, ignoring the look of concern on her face. I walk a straight path back to my apartment in silence with my head down.

This shouldn't have affected me this much. But I realize it isn't just about the gaiter. It's never been about the gaiter. From changing my interests to changing my priorities for her, of course she didn't recognize me. I made an entirely new me, just for her. All this time… I wanted for her to like me so badly that I completely changed who I was…. How could I have possibly told myself I was more honest with her than anyone else when I did what I did?

I get home, expecting to see Cleopatra run up to comfort me. Tears fill my eyes, blurring my surroundings as I search for her.

"Cleo…? Cleo! Come, Cleo…," I call, hot creeks flowing across my cheeks. I wipe them and spot her on her bed where I put her last night…. Exactly as I put her last night.

She doesn't move. Why isn't she moving? I keep calling her name as I walk to her, falling to my knees before her bed.

"Cleo…? Cleo, babygirl, come here… please… please, Cleo… wake up for me… I need you," I sob quietly, my hands trembling as I reach for her and cradle her limp body close. "Cleo, why are you so small…? I could've sworn-"

My voice fades as I stand and run to my car. I did this…. I can't even remember… the last time I set a bowl of food out for her…. How did this happen? When did I become such a monster? She was there, everyday… she was begging me for food… and I-

I speed to the vet's office, trying my hardest not to cry lest my vision blur again. When I arrive I run with cleo against my chest inside, looking like a mad man.

"P-Please… s-she needs help, please, she isn't responding," I beg, finally breaking down again.

The lady at the front desk stands quickly, calling for a doctor with a look of concern, and probably at my state as much as Cleo's.

A vet comes rushing in, taking Cleo from my arms, checks her, and takes her behind closed doors. Before I even begin to follow the front desk lady grabs my arm.

"She has a pulse still. Just sit down… and all we can do now is wait," she commands in a gentle tone. She guides me to sit in the waiting area and I sit heavily, guilt and grief consuming me.

My phone buzzes and I slowly pull it out to look at it. Another message from my sister… I read it this time.

"Look, I don't know if you're upset or just ignoring me, but I'm coming over now."

I read the ones before and my heart drops into my stomach. My mother passed almost a week ago…. Kaley was texting about it to me. She even asked for comfort…. And I never even looked. What have I done…?

I always thought… loving Samantha so deeply changed me for the better. Now I realize… I've ruined everything that ever meant anything to me. I've become worse because of my obsession. I can't blame Samantha. Only myself. Can I even fix this…?