This is Love

Humming along with the latest love song on the radio, Kristine arranged the flowers to her own idea of perfection. The hot-house grown beauties carried a tantalizing scent and a rich color not found often in these fast paced days of mass production.

Charlie Stone kept sending them to Emma Cross; an arrangement every day until Valentine’s Day. She thought it one of the most romantic things a man could do. The last day the arrangement held the box containing Emma’s engagement ring.

“If only more men were like Charlie...”

"What are you muttering about?” Her partner and best friend, David wanted to know as he brought up a dripping batch of daffodils.

“Nothing.”

He eyed the arrangement. “Let me guess. Charlie Stone again. Didn’t he do this last week to apologize to Emma?”

“Oh David, where is your sense of romance? This is a flower shop.”

“Yes, I realize that, Kris. But a flower arrangement where a piece of jewelry is tied to nearly every flower is ridiculous. Is that what he thinks it takes to keep a woman happy?”

“It did make a really pretty arrangement.”

“It’s a waste of time and money, if you ask me. Love isn’t about jewelry and flowers.”

For working in a flower shop, Kris wondered if David’s sense of romance actually existed. People came in with wonderful ideas to surprise loved ones. Of all the men she dated, she wished one would buy her a flower arrangement like this. The jewelry would be a bonus.

Watching David wrap the daffodils in paper, she examined his lean build and strong, dark features. Nearly black hair fell over his eyebrow on one side, practically obscuring his vision. Most women she knew found him handsome in a dreamy sort of way. He dated sporadically, but rarely talked about the women. Center Point was a small town so word eventually traveled around. David was secretive though and the women weren’t talking a whole lot.

Brushing her own dark braid over her shoulder, she finished Charlie’s arrangement and called back to have it delivered.

“What is love about then, David?”

“Are we going to have a philosophical discussion here, Kris? It’s too early for that. I’m just saying, love is more than flowers, jewelry and showering women with constant gifts.”

“ Sure. But it can be a way to show you love someone.”

“It’s not even that.”

“Did you break off with Monica?”

“Last week. Keep up with the times.”

“I knew it. You’re feeling bitter.”

"No. You and I just have different ideas about what love is, friend.”

She handed the flower arranged to the young man who drove their van. Her friend certainly carried an air of strange today. They talked about many things, but their ideas on love generally didn’t come up. Both of them kept their relationship ups and downs to themselves for the most part.

“Maybe we do. Is that so bad?”

Resting his elbows on the counter, he examined her in a way that made her feel oddly uncomfortable. It left her turning away to busy herself with the cards at the counter.

“What if it is?”

“What if it isn’t?” She fired back, refusing to look at him still.

“What happened to your necklace?”

As if missing it, she reached up and touched her neck where it once laid cool against her skin. Mark gave it to her two weeks prior. When they broke up, she gave it back. It didn’t seem right to keep it.

“I gave it back. Mark and I didn’t work out.”

“Hm. Wasn’t he the one always taking you out to fancy dinners? I think he even bought you clothes to wear, didn’t he? Gave you that necklace you gave back.”

Slamming a stack of cards on the counter, she turned to favor him with what she hoped was a withering glare. “Your point?”

Raising his hands, though a smile hovered, he said, “I’m just saying. Things don’t make love.”

“All right, Mr. Love. If you’re so wise about it all, what would you suggest?”

Having known David for 15 years, Kris was beginning to sense a motive, one she likely wouldn’t care for. He kept working too hard to push his point.

“It’s a week until Valentine’s Day, right?”

Impatient, she pushed back from the counter and rounded on him. “Yes. We’ve established that.”

“All right then. Let’s make a bet. You spend this next week with me. I’ll prove to you that love isn’t about clothes, fancy dinners, flowers and jewelry.”

“And if you don’t change my mind?”

David shrugged. “That’s up to you.”

What in the world could her friend be playing at? David didn’t make bets like this. Kris understood his need to make a point, but at the cost of a bet where he might not like the consequences if he lost?

“What if you do change my mind?”

“Well, that, my friend, is up to me.”

“I don’t know, David... I’m not sure I like this.”

“Don’t be chicken, Kris. I never took you for a wimp.”

Grinding her teeth, she threw out her hand and dared him to shake it.

When he took it, she half-snarled, half-grinned. “You’re on.”


* * * *

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see. Stop being so impatient.”

The February weather bit into her cheeks and she pulled her scarf higher. She didn’t see why they needed to walk when both of them owned cars. David reminded her to wear her warmest coat and gloves. Kris felt relieved the snow held off this year. It was beautiful, but not so much of a pleasure to walk in.

She liked Center Point for its old town appeal. The shops remained connected as she imagined they always were, only renovated to give them a more modern feel. The town square still kept the original stone fountain in working order and the year they decided to add flowers to it, she and David won the bid.

Moving closer to David to absorb some of his heat, she found surprise to see them stop at the farthest end of town. This part of town kept a few stray shops and a carnival, nothing more.

“David... are we-”

“The carnival, yes.”

“We’re too old for the carnival. And it’s too cold.”

“You’re never too old for the carnival. Now come on.” He grasped her gloved hand and pulled her through the gate, paying for their entry tickets.

Kris found herself looking around, having no idea what to do first or where to go. David apparently thought the entire thing through. He started pulling her toward the center.

“When was the last time you rode the carousel?”

“I was 10.”

“Good. Now come on.”

“David, I don’t think-”

“Good. You aren’t here to think. Now come on. Pick a horse.”

She was surprised to find excitement stir in the pit of her stomach. “Okay, but I get the red horse!”

“Fine with me. I’ll ride the black one next to it.”

She couldn’t help the laughter that escaped. “Perfect.”

“Are you saying I’m a pirate?”

“Maybe.”

The carousel, considered another of the town’s monuments, spun in all its colorful glory bringing memories of her childhood and the times spent at the carnival with her friends. She loved the bright colors. They reminded her of the flowers in the shop. Each horse painted vividly to stand out on its own, inviting children to climb aboard and pretend for a moment that another world awaited.

Kris threw darts at balloons and missed. She teased David until he hurled baseballs at old milk cans and won her a teddy bear. She found herself relaxing in a way she would never have expected here.

Begrudgingly, she admitted David picked well.

A caramel apple and two bags of cotton candy later he dropped her at her door.

“Tell Sissy she has more hours at the shop all week. We still have six days of this.”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

“Very funny, Kris. Now go finish your sugar high and try to get some sleep.”

She watched him pull away, thinking how different David seemed from the David she thought she knew.


* * * *

“A cemetery? Are you crazy?”

“I haven’t denied it, have I?”

Unable to suppress the shiver, whether the surroundings or the cold caused it, Kris looked out across the miles of tombstones old and new. In the early morning fog, it seemed as fascinating as it was eerie. Strangely, she found herself almost as interested as she felt repulsed.

“If this is where you usually take your dates, David, it’s no wonder you can’t keep them.”

“Come on, Kris. Quit complaining. It’s fun. I like to see what the oldest headstone is that I can find.”

It became a game. She tried to outrun him, weaving between the stones, reading as fast as she could, but never seeming to outdo him. As frustrating as it became, she couldn’t help but laugh at his skill. Though she accused him of cheating, knowing he came here before.

By the time they found what they thought was the oldest, three hours passed and Kris was starving. David took her to a diner she seldom visited and they ate the worst kind of breakfast -- full of carbohydrates and fats.

Finishing a bite of her pancake, she remembered this diner from when her parents took her. It carried a 50s appeal; even the music lent to the atmosphere. She liked it.

“I can’t eat another bite or I’m going to die, David.”

He laughed. “Well no wonder, Kris. That’s your third one.”

“Don’t be rude and point it out. They were good.” Sipping on her coffee, she let her chin rest on her palm and studied him.“It feels like were in high school.”

He didn’t answer immediately. “Are you having fun?”

“Well... Yes.”

“Then, that’s the point. Don’t over think it, Kris. You do that too much.”

She wanted to argue with him, but she knew what he said to be true. So she let the conversation go and finished her coffee. For some reason she couldn’t understand, she felt different around David. And if she could figure out what she felt exactly it would make her feel less unsettled.

After breakfast, both of them went back to the store and relieved Sissy for the day; and it became further stranger to her. Kris found flowers with their accompanying gifts held less appeal than they usually did as the orders came in throughout the day.


* * * *

Day three he took her to the thrift shop and she put on a fashion show for him of the worst looking clothing she could find. Kris couldn’t remember when she laughed as much. Afterwards, they ate burgers and fries dripping grease. It proved to be nothing like the fancy dinners of her last lover and she found she liked it more because of it. It became more fun than she could remember having recently.

When the fourth day came, they simply walked the town for hours and talked about things they hadn’t shared in a long time. Kris came to realize she didn’t know David as much as she thought. When they reached the railroad tracks they laid pennies on the rail and waited until the train flattened them.

On the fifth day, they worked together making funeral arrangements for a woman who lost her husband of 55 years. It seemed right, somehow, that they would spend this day doing that.

Day six, they made a simple picnic and ate it in the park. It was nothing fancy. Sandwiches, bottled water, apples and crackers with cheese. It reminded her of lunches at school. There they talked more, of aspirations, dreams and things that went far differently from how they imagined as children.

When day seven arrived, Kris found herself disappointed and didn’t understand it. For some reason, David didn’t show up to work.

Kris couldn’t understand the point of all of this. Why would he make the entire bet only to be cruel? David did things she couldn’t agree with but the last description she would use of him would be mean.

She realized of all the Valentine’s Days that came before, this would be her first alone. It felt odd. It made her seem pathetic when she came to understand the reason had nothing to do with coincidence. No one wanted to be alone on Valentine’s Day.

Maybe David’s lesson came to that. Being alone on Valentine’s Day should be no different than being alone any other day of the year.

“Hey, Kris.” It was Sissy.

Distracted, she didn’t look up. “Hm?”

“Someone is outside for you.”

Looking up, she could see David standing on the sidewalk. Her heart rate picked up and she couldn’t say she understood that either. Removing her apron in what felt like slow motion, she pushed out the door, the ring of the bells sounding far away. He stood on the sidewalk, holding a hand of wildflowers.

“David?”

“Kris. I wanted you to understand that it’s the everyday things that show what love really is.”

Walking up to him, she stopped short. Wanting to reach out, not knowing how.

“I... I think I do now.”

He held out the flowers. She took them, and in the same move as her own, he grabbed her hand and pulled her in until they were flush. Smiling at her, he leaned in and their lips met. She went into the kiss and loved that it felt natural, real and perfect.

This is love.