Bouquet Toss

by Melissa Brown

  “Maybe,” I say, staring at the table, my heart pulsing painfully inside my chest, “or maybe not.”

  “Oh, Daphne, I would never want to hurt you.” She sighs, reaching out to touch my hand. Without thinking, I pull away from her. She looks so much like Mayson, that I can’t bear her touch. I can’t bear to be hurt again. When I see her expression, her eyes wide and wounded, I’m immediately filled with regret for hurting her.

  “I know that, Cece. You’ve been through so much. I haven’t forgotten that. But, I was finally coming to terms with everything and now...now it’s worse than I ever could’ve imagined. I dreamed of a future with Mayson, fantasized about it. I dreamed of moving to Denver, of buying a home, of getting married. And now, you’re telling me that he may have shared that dream with me. But then again, he may have decided to pursue those things with someone else.”

  Abruptly, Cece stands up and wipes the tears from her eyes. “Words cannot begin to express how sorry I am, Daphne. I thought I was doing the right thing. As a mother, I wanted to comfort you, to let you know that my Mayson was capable of more. But, like my son, I have hurt you and I’ll always regret that. I need to go, Daphne.” She stands and places the ring box in the middle of the table.

  “This ring belongs to you. I am certain of it, Daphne. Even if you can’t see that right now. Do what you will with it. You can leave it here, throw it in the nearest trash bin… whatever you feel you need to do. But, I know in my heart that it’s yours.”

  “Wait, Cece--” I jump up, but it’s too late. She has left me standing next to the table in the cafe, patrons staring at me with curiosity. Unsteadily, I grab the velvet box, place it in my purse and head towards the door, back to the safety of my hotel room. My flight can’t leave soon enough. I must leave Denver as soon as humanly possible.

  Chapter 19

  Questions

  “Daph, honey, please get out of bed,” I hear Morgan talking into my answering machine. She knows me too well. I glance at the clock and groan seeing it’s already noon. I know that I should get up and start my Saturday, but I feel as if I’m permanently adhered to my bed when I’m not at work. I’ve done my very best to keep up a positive front when teaching my students, after all my personal life should not affect their education. But, at the end of each day, I’m completely spent and yearn for the comfort and solitude of my bedroom.

  Mayson’s ring calls to me from the top drawer of my dresser. I can’t bring myself to open the box, afraid I will fall apart completely but, the thought of parting with it is equally painful. Morgan doesn’t know about the ring. In fact, no one knows it’s in my possession apart from Cece.

  Morgan continues to speak into my machine, “It’s been weeks now, Daph. I’m getting tempted to use my spare key and drag you out of bed...Daph. Daph!” Slowly, I pull myself out from under my cotton comforter and walk to my phone.

  “Hi, Morgan.” Simply uttering these words takes a massive amount of effort and restraint. Lately, whenever I speak outside of school, my voice quivers and cracks and I feel helpless to stop the tears that inevitably pour from my eyes.

  “Thank God. I was about to come over there this time. I mean it.”

  “That’s what you said last weekend, Morgan. I’m fine. I just need to be alone.”

  “Nope, I’m not accepting that answer today, Daph. We’re spending the day together whether you like it or not. Get dressed. I’ll be right over.”

  Five minutes later, Morgan is knocking at the back door. I somehow muster up the will to answer, knowing her face will show pity and concern, two emotions I’m avoiding like the plague. I hate when people feel sorry for me. I hate feeling helpless. It’s almost as awful as feeling heartbroken...almost.

  Luckily, when I open the door, her face shows none of these emotions. Rather, her beautiful blond hair is pinned up in a pony-tail, a powder blue scarf that matches her eyes is wrapped around her neck and she’s smiling from ear to ear. I’m instantly annoyed at her chipper demeanor, yet relieved at the lack of worry on her face. The first thing she does is stroll over to my CD player, removing my Andrew Belle disc. I’ve had the song “In My Veins” on repeat ever since I left Denver. Cringing, I watch as Morgan lifts the disc out gingerly, places it in its plastic case and into her purse. The lyrics echo in my mind even after silence fills the air.

  “I need that,” I mutter. “It’s the only way I feel connected to him.” Morgan ignores me completely.

  “Oh good, you managed to get dressed. I can see you didn’t shower, though.”

  “You didn’t say that I had to bathe. From now on if you’re going to order me around, you’ll need to be more specific. You know I can just burn another mix off iTunes,” I hiss.

  “I’m going to ignore that remark since you’re my cousin and I love you. But, Daph, enough is enough. It’s been two months since Mayson’s funeral. It’s time, honey. It’s time to let go just a little bit. That song pulls you right back within yourself, right back into the pain and I won’t let you get pulled in anymore. I’m doing this for you. You must know that.”

  “Morgan, I do know that. I’m just filled with so many emotions that I’m powerless to manage them right now. I still need to feel connected to him somehow. He’s gone and I know that, but I’m left thinking about Brynn and about his family, especially Cece. We left things so badly--”

  “Daph, she must’ve known that seeing the engagement ring would leave you upset. How could she not? It was an act of selfishness, if you ask me.”

  “Selfishness?” How could Cece have been acting selfish? The thought had never occurred to me.

  “Yes, Daph, I’ve given this quite a bit of thought. Cece wanted to tell you about the ring because it would give her peace, it would give her the closure that she so desperately needed. She wanted to believe that his terrible behavior was all for a noble reason, all for a positive end result.

  She said he was behaving differently while seeing you. As a mother, she wanted to envision him proposing to you, to making you his wife, to living happily ever after with the woman that she instantly connected with in the hospital. She didn’t want to believe that he was seeing another woman only to propose to a person like Brynn.”

  “Brynn didn’t do anything wrong, Morgan. She loved Mayson. She trusted him just like I did.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I’m not blaming Brynn. Although I’m shocked that you’re somehow able to look the other way knowing he cheated on you with her during college.”

  I cringe as she brings up this painful memory that I’ve chosen to submerge deep within my consciousness. Morgan continues as she lovingly strokes my shoulder, “What I’m saying is that Brynn obviously did not have the same positive effect on Mayson. Cece felt that. She wanted her son to be happy, to be kind, and to be generous. And she observed her son taking on all of these attributes when you entered his life, not Brynn. They had been together for years. It wasn’t until you showed up that she saw the change.

  So, she wanted to see him as being a man who would risk everything for the right person. She was able to forgive him cheating on Brynn. It sounds as if she couldn’t bear to have him cheat on you. In her eyes, you were the one for him.”

  Slowly, Morgan’s words settle into my brain. Deep down, I know she’s right. But, I can’t bear to blame Cece. She was a victim in all of this, losing her son and not knowing what his true intentions were. Part of her must be ashamed of his behavior, but the other part was hopeful; I must’ve represented the hope that she felt. She’d hoped that Mayson could be the man she had envisioned. Without warning, my eyes begin to burn, and deep, guttural sobs escape my lips. Morgan quickly wraps her arm around me and holds me tight as I weep uncontrollably for what feels like eternity.

  For eight long, excruciating weeks, I’ve been swirling in doubt and confusion. I would never know if Cece was correct about Mayson’s intentions towards me or to Brynn. I would never know for whom he purchased the ring that sits inside my dresser. The conversation
in the cafe has haunted me as I’ve desperately clung to Cece’s words, hoping she was right. But, those words have also caused me to retreat like a reclusive hermit, wishing I could turn back the clocks and prevent the accident that stole my love.

  “Talk to me, Daphne, please. I feel like I’ve caused you to break apart and I hate myself right now.”

  “No, no, Morgan. You’re right,” I say between sobs, “For weeks now, I’ve been laying here daydreaming about Mayson, imagining he was still here. I’ve been playing scenarios in my head; how would he have proposed? When would we have married? Would he have taken me to France for our honeymoon? Would we have started a family? How would that ring look upon my finger?”

  “Oh, Daph.” Morgan’s eyes moisten as she stares at me with the look I’ve dreaded for weeks, the look of pity.

  “Stop looking at me like that, please. You don’t get it. What you just said is what I needed to hear. I need to move on. I need to let those scenarios go. Just because Cece felt that the ring was for me, doesn’t mean that it was. I understand that now. I need to get past this. I need to say goodbye to him...for real, this time.”

  “Wow,” Morgan gulps. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of you in my life.”

  “Thanks. I hope I can stay true to what I just said. Moving on is going to be really hard.”

  “I know, but you have me and you have Elise. We’ll help you through this, I promise. The man of your dreams, the love of your life, he’s still out there. I know it.”

  “God, I hope you’re right,” I laugh, feeling hopeful for the very first time. “I’m going to take a shower and then we can get the hell out of here. I need some fresh air.”

  “Thank goodness. I’ll do a little clean up while you get ready. This place is a pit, Daph.”

  “Thanks,” I smile, my first one in months. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

  Morgan’s crystal eyes sparkle as she begins picking up Diet Coke cans from my coffee table, “We’re both lucky, Daph. Now, take a shower. The department stores won’t wait forever!”

  “Good, I have a paycheck waiting to be burned. I’ve hardly spent money in months. Oh, and Morgan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You can keep the CD.” I smile, shrugging my shoulders. Morgan looks shocked before I turn quickly towards the bathroom. Little does she know that although the music will be gone, the ring will still be here, calling to me from my dresser drawer.

  Chapter 20

  Dating

  It’s a rainy Sunday afternoon and I’m spending way too much time on the internet, checking my email and Facebook page. On a whim, I log into my dating profile on the site Morgan set up for me ages ago.

  Shocked, I stare at the welcome page with my mouth agape. Twenty two “date requests” are waiting for me, many dating back to last summer when I was completely wrapped up in Mayson. Curious, I begin to sift through the requests. Surprisingly, many of my potential suitors are quite handsome and seem to have steady careers. Clicking on the latest date request, sent just this weekend, I’m surprised to find an unbelievably gorgeous face staring back at me.

  Name: Brock Gallino

  Age: 30

  Body Type: Athletic

  Career: Lawyer

  Relationship Status: Never Married

  Seeking: A relationship

  Intrigued, I read further about Mr. Gallino. Brock loves his career as a lawyer, but is even more passionate about his favorite sport, hockey. He’s a devoted Chicago Blackhawks fan and has season tickets to the games. He seems to be a true “guy’s guy” with spiky hair, a deep tan and tattoos on his forearms. In his message, he tells me that I’m “cute” and that he “loves my red hair and blue eye combo.” He wants to get together for a drink or perhaps dinner if I’m interested.

  My curiosity, combined with a smidge of loneliness, motivate me to hit “reply” and accept Brock’s invitation for a date. It’s time for Daphne to move on and this would have to be the first step. Brock seems attractive, successful and interesting. Perhaps this will be a great way to get my feet wet in the dating pool.

  The following weekend, I meet Brock for dinner at a French Bistro that he suggested. Not usually my type of cuisine, but willing to try something new, I agree to dinner and drinks. I recognize Brock as I walk in the front door of the restaurant. He walks over to greet me and I’m immediately consumed by the scent of his musky cologne. Brock is dressed in a button down linen shirt and khaki pants and he’s as good looking in person as his profile suggested. He kisses me on the cheek and smiles widely, “Daphne, it’s so great to meet you in person. You look lovely.”

  My heart flutters as we make our way to the table. I’m definitely attracted to this guy, but need to see if his personality matches his physique.

  The conversation is a bit awkward. He talks about himself...a lot. I’m not used to men who are so consumed by themselves. It’s a little troubling to find that even by the time we’ve finished our meal and are sharing a piece of chocolate cake, he has only asked me one question about myself. I could probably write an entire essay about him, though. I learned about his childhood, his career at his law firm, where he got each of his tattoos and why, his apartment downtown, etc. etc. etc. His one and only question to me, “So, Daphne, do you like French food?”

  Just as I’m ready to thank him for the date and retreat to the comfort of my corduroy sofa, our waiter delivers the bill to the table. Out of habit, I offer to help pay for the bill. I’ve been doing this for years, dating back to high school when boys struggled to afford dinners out with their girlfriends. No one had ever let me pay on a first date, ever. But, I guess there’s a first time for everything.

  “Yeah, that sounds great.” He says, “Your share will be $37.50”

  Seriously? He already divided it in his head? Who was this guy? This wealthy lawyer who suggested the French restaurant is letting his date pay for exactly half of the bill. Thank goodness I had already placed cash in my wallet, just in case. Begrudgingly, I drop $38 on the table, testing to see if he will give me 50 cents in return. He does not. That confirms it, Brock is a cheap ass.

  After paying our bill, we walk out to our respective vehicles. As I’m unlocking my car, Brock says, “Wait, Daphne, the night is still young.”

  Taken aback, I respond, “Well, what did you have in mind?”

  “Well, I thought maybe you’d like to come back to my place,” he smiles with a sexy grin that I imagine has worked well for him in the past. I do my best to hide my disgust at his proposition.

  “I’m thinking I should call it a night, Brock. I have a busy day tomorrow.”

  Brock looks disappointed but doesn’t ask to see me again. Suddenly, his intentions for the evening have become transparent and I can’t get into my car fast enough. Morgan calls me within minutes of my drive home.

  “Seriously?” she asks incredulously, “The dude is a lawyer and he didn’t pay for dinner? He asked you out and he chose the place. What a cheap ass!”

  “Those were my thoughts exactly. But, that’s not the worst part. The guy had absolutely no interest in getting to know me, but had every intention of getting me back to his place. Geez, Morgan, is this what dating is going to be like? Going dutch for dinner followed by one night stands with douchebag guys who don’t even try to sound interested in me?”

  “No, not at all, Daph. This is just one date with one guy. Don’t give up yet. You said you had plenty of other date requests on the website.”

  “Yeah, okay.” I agree. “But, you need to pick the next date. I chose Brock and look how that turned out.”

  “Alright, I remember your password. I’ll choose the next guy. No lawyers this time.”

  “And no tattoos,” I add.

  “Why not? Matt has a tattoo,” Morgan says defensively.

  “I know. I just want to get as far away from Brock’s type as I possibly can.”

  “I understand,” Morgan concedes. “I’ll get to work right away.”

>   By the time I arrive home, there’s already an email from Morgan telling me the name of my next date.

  Name: Abram Moore

  Age: 35

  Body Type: Athletic

  Career: Teacher

  Relationship Status: Never Married

  Seeking: A relationship

  In his profile picture, the blond haired blue eyed Abram is smiling wide while riding a bicycle. He lists his pride in his athleticism, his love of all things culinary and his desire to one day write a hit screenplay. Morgan definitely did a decent job. He sounds nothing at all like Brock.

  When Abram calls later that evening to schedule our date, I’m immediately drawn to his voice. It’s soft and silky and I can tell he has done this many times before. I must admit that the thought of ending up with another teacher sounds wonderful. He’s an English teacher and loves to talk about literature and the classics. In addition to screenplays, he writes poetry and has a real artistic streak to him.

  Unlike Brock, Abram asks me many questions about myself. He inquires about my job, my family, and my students. He seems genuinely interested in my answers. We have many things in common such as our love of the theater and for books written by Hemingway and Twain. When he asks me out for the following weekend, I realize that I’m genuinely looking forward to learning more about him, wondering if maybe this could amount to something.

  Abram suggests we meet at a restaurant in between our two suburbs, an Irish Pub that sits on the outskirts of a movie theater. He writes screenplays and I love movies so I assume we’ll be heading there if all goes well at dinner.

  “Wow, you’re even prettier in person, Daphne,” Abram says, greeting me at the door to the pub.

  “Thank you,” I smile. “You look very handsome yourself.”

  Abram’s light blond hair is short and spiky in the front. His hipster glasses complement his sapphire eyes and I’m instantly drawn to the freckles that adorn his pale cheeks. He takes my hand gently and leads me to our table.