She Loves Me...

Main Prompt: End your story with someone saying “I love you” or “I do.”

She Loves Me

“Daisy, Daisy, I’m half-crazy all for all my love of you! She loves me. She loves me not” as I murmured to myself picking the petals off of a daisy. I have two dozen more flowers to go. So, if I don’t get it right, I have plenty more petals to pluck. I am overwhelmed with a forlorn heart with no remedy for it. I planted myself under the shade of a weeping willow to wreak a horticultural nightmare on those innocent daisies. So why project my anxiety on them? There is not a lot to do as a kid on a sweltering hot summer afternoon. Besides, my Daisy was away for a few weeks at an all-girls summer camp. I am miserable without her. Now it was just a few days away from her return.

Nothing could quell my starry-eyed vision of her. In these days it sounds strange to be in love with a girl named Daisy. Certainly, the name is outdated and old fashioned. Her given name is Bertha or Bertie if a family member. I never told her outright, but I could only associate that name with battle axes and big booming cannons. When we first met, I told her she was pretty as a flower. The only one that came to mind at that time was “Daisy.” Later, I discovered it was a good choice because roses are so expensive nowadays. Daffodils do not lend themselves to a shortened, cutesy name. I can’t imagine calling her Daffy”. She would not be flattered being named after a crazy, cartoon duck. Bertie was overjoyed at her new name and smiled at me every time I called her by it. Yes, every time she would smile.

Our magical attraction began one day when we were three years younger. She had forgotten her crayons at home, and I more than willingly obliged to give her mine. From that moment on we became instant friends. There was nothing I would not share with her. My heart pinged with paralyzing love. I felt an indestructible bond between us. I could tell she felt the same way about me by her smile. Now my innards were stinging with aches because she left me for a bunch of crazy, wild girls.

Unfortunately, picking at the flowers did not help ease the loneliness I felt by her absence. Granted I was only twelve, but my desire for her was epic. I really felt I couldn’t share this with family or friends because they would attribute my feelings to the onset of raging hormones. Well, some of it is true. But honestly my heart pings at every thought of her. Daisy is not just a pretty flower. She portrays an air of warmth and personality far beyond her fourteen years. Yes, I am infatuated by an older gal. It would be senseless to cast this amazing gem of a person aside just for the sake of two years. The quality and depth she would add to our relationship is invigorating. Daisy knows it too. She expresses it by allowing me to do her bidding. I am her “love slave.” Ok, I am not stupid. I have my boundaries too, but Daisy is my princess. I had truly hoped I am her prince. Or perhaps at the very least, her knight in armor that could use a little buffing or silver cleaner.

The afternoon sun was just above the horizon as I plucked the last petal from the very last flower. “She loves me …”. I was suddenly interrupted by approaching footsteps. To my horror, it was Butch, Daisy’s older brother.

“Hey dweeb! Why the compost heap of dead flowers? Oh, now I know. You poor sap! Bertie is far away in never-never land, because she never wants anything to do with you! Why don’t you give up and pair with someone your own type like a lizard or a frog? Then both of you can creep along together.”

Butch laughed and snorted at the same time causing himself to choke and gasp on his mucus. I thought he was going to asphyxiate himself.

I nonchalantly replied “lizards and frogs don’t resuscitate their enemies. They let the vermin die and then eat their guts.”

With narrowed eyes Butch spewed out, “You are a creep and I don’t know what my sister sees in you!”

I responded “Why did you crawl out of your cave? Or do you prowl around like a wild beast looking for someone to devour?”

He looked at me saying “I am excited to break the news to you little man, but your sweet Daisy has a new boyfriend. His name is Beauregard or Bo for short. He’s an athlete and rugged like me too. You should meet him sometime soon. He’d make you wince in pain. Oh, are you going to cry? Lizards can cry tears too! By the way, you can say your goodbyes to her when she comes home tomorrow.”

Having said this, Butch disappeared into the hole he came from. I just sat under the tree holding my head in my hands. And the last petal was “she loves me not!”

I could not sleep that night. At the first light of dawn I ran over to the shrub line that divided our property lines from each other. Like a brave young man I hid behind the bushes camouflaged with branches. It seemed like an eternity. The bus carrying its cargo of summertime nymphs pulled up to Daisy’s house. Smiling from ear to ear with frenzied hand waving, Daisy disembarked off the bus. I pulled the shrubbery out of my face and raced to her with open arms and a Cheshire-like grin.

“Daisy, Daisy, I missed you so much!” I feverishly cried out. There were no longer any smiles on her face.

No sooner was I ready to hug the daylights out of her when she abruptly said, “Whoa cowboy, not so fast! You and I need to embark on a little tete -a-tete. You and I are no longer a 'thing'."

I looked at her in disbelief. “What is tea a tea?“ I asked her.

Daisy sneered adding, “We are just worlds apart. You lack sophistication and etiquette of a mature man. I need someone strong and virile. He even calls me his sweet little “birdie” because I sing like the sparrows.”

I interrupted her saying, “you mean boorish Bo who thinks with his biceps and not his brain?”

Daisy’s beautiful face was turning beet red. I thought to myself maybe I should have called her Rose instead. She gave me the evil eye.

She yelled at me. “This is precisely why I want nothing to do with you. You are such a buffoon! You are crass, disrespectful, immature, and not lovable!”

That last word split my heart in two. In a low voice I asked her how I could make things right and restore the love and affection we used to have.

Daisy tersely said “Nothing!” It was at that moment I had to turn away from her. I headed for home and hid in my bedroom for the rest of the summer.

Making matters worse I heard from my parents (of all people) that Daisy was painting the town red. She and Bo seemed inseparable and passionate about being together. They speculated that both would marry each other very soon. I hoped I would not be invited.

Meanwhile I continued to lick my wounded ego. The extended time I spent in my bedroom helped me to deeply reflect on my love life. That took all of five minutes. I resolved to purge myself of anything related to romance, relationships and ravishing women. No, I didn’t become celibate like a priest; nor did I become gay. I threw myself into my studies at high school and college. I essentially became an academic nerd. Time just floated by me as did all the gorgeous angelic women that danced around the periphery of my nonexistent social life. Cupid’s arrows just bounced off my chest. I felt I had become immune to love. I think I even despised the concept of it which channeled me into my lucrative livelihood.

I am now nearly thirty now and gainfully employed as a divorce lawyer. I guess one devastating end to a relationship and a few classes in jurisprudence are all that it took to make me qualified and successful in this line of business. I learned to be really good at it.

Just as things were going so well, Cupid crushed me without warning. My legal endeavors took a back seat or more like a one hundred eighty-degree reversal. My professional colleagues would claim that I betrayed my principles. Nevertheless, I was happy as a clam as I stood at the altar with my bride. I suspected it would be sooner or later I would succumb to the gushy feeling I always held very deep in my heart.

Who would have thought that at this juncture of my life, I’d be taking the plunge back into the many waters of love. The pastor continued his reading: “Many waters cannot quench love, nor can rivers drown it. If a man tried to buy love with all his wealth, his offer would be utterly scorned.” (1)

I deeply looked into the eyes of my bride garbed in a flowing white dress. So much love radiated between us. The pastor continued his reading: “Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.” (2)

Does time heal a broken heart? Does absence make the heart grow fonder? How deep is the spiritual connection in love? Is there such a thing as a second chance in love?

Ever since my youth and yes even now (despite my profession), I believe in the incredible power of love. It is healing, restorative, forgiving, and unconditional. Today my bride is holding a bouquet of daisies (they were a bargain), a token of my unshakable commitment to her.

The reverend turns to my bride saying, “Do you Daisy, take this man to be your husband in sickness and health, for richer or poorer, to live and to cherish til death do you part?”

Her face radiates with joy as my Daisy exclaims in a loud voice “I do!”

-END-

“We know what real love is because Jesus gave up his life for us. So we also ought to give up our lives for our brothers and sisters.” 1 John 3:16 NLT

“For this is how God loved the world: He gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16 NLT

(1) Song of Songs 8:7, NLT

(2) 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 NLT

NLT=New Living Translation

Author: Pete Gautchier

Acknowledgement: Reedsyprompts.com