Sam
He
held the last post-it up against the wall with his left hand, with his right he
balanced the tape between his teeth and pulled it, yanking it, snapping it
through his teeth.
“That’ll
do,” he said to himself, admiring the work around him. He eyed the sky,
slightly worried about the weather. It was windier than he’d anticipated so he
hoped with all hope that the post-it’s would hold out. If she missed even one,
it might mess up the whole trail. He sent a little prayer up to the Gods, hoping
the fates were on his side.
But,
he knew in his heart of hearts that when the girl of his dreams came around
that corner she would see the flowers and the effort. Lots of them, all
intertwining over and under the, little-town, gazebo. The flowers were purple;
all different shapes, shades and sizes. He didn’t have a clue of their names…
gerba somethings and orchids? Maybe? He was only half-listening to the florist
when she started spurting names. He nodded to her suggestions. All Sam knew was
that he needed purple ones; her favourite colour, the women at the shop could
work out the rest. That’s what he paid them £100 for.
He
knew it all looked kinda corny, but he hoped she’d see the romantic side. He
didn’t care though, she loved over-romantic gestures. He just hoped this was
the right way about it. Sam had been planning this whole thing for weeks. He
knew she was the only girl for him. She was sweet, kind and sexy; if not a
little scary sometimes. She had determined direction and knew what she wanted
in life. Sam enjoyed that about her, especially when her goals were so ‘up-in-the-air’
sometimes.
“Morning,
Sam!” A voice called from across the street. “So, today’s the big day then?”
Sam
blushed. As well as planning this thing for weeks, he’d also been telling
everyone in the village for weeks. He looked up and covered his head with his
hand, blocking out the morning sun. He smiled, recognising the woman’s sweet,
elderly face.
“Hi
Claris. Yep, today is the big day. She should be coming over this way from her
Aunt’s this morning...” He checked his watch, “…Anytime now I reckon.”
“You
nervous?” Claris smiled at him.
He
laughed, lightly, at the small but bold little old lady, walking her dog on
this far too cold, frosty morning.
“Nar,
I’m good. It’s not like this hasn’t been coming for a while. I just needed to
get on with it.” He shrugged, desperately trying not to show the little
nervousness edging its way into his system. The longer he waited the longer it
felt like she wasn’t coming. He ignored the feeling.
Claris
saw his confidence falter, “It’ll be fine henny I’m sure.” She walked over the
empty street, slowly stepping up the white metal gazebo steps. She looked up
into Sam’s young, hopeful eyes.
“Samuel
Parker Washington. I’ve known you since you were little boy. I’ve watched you
grow-up and become the great incredible man that you are. If she says no then
she’s a fool.”
“If
only you were 50 years younger Claris. I would’ve asked you to marry me right
here right now.” Sam laughs, bending down to pet Claris’ little Bichon.
“Pah
Sam. Get away with you.” She patted his shoulder, swiftly brushing off his
comment with a smile.
“Thank
you though Claris,” he bent a little and squeezed her into a big over-bearing
hug then waved her off and rubbed his hands together, adjusting his scarf.
Taking
a mental inventory of everything he had sorted for the gazebo, Sam, walked
around the gazebo, staring at his feet. Suddenly, wondering if should’ve
dressed up a little, tried wearing a suit and tie or at least some smart shoes?
She liked it when he dressed up. But he wanted to be relaxed and be himself, so
wearing his trusty converse and jeans it was.
Sam
stopped pacing. He knew he needed to calm down. She always came this way to his
place, all he needed to do was wait. He started pacing again. Looking up, Sam
noticed a flower, wilting and browning at the edges. It seemed to mirror his
exact feelings right now. In a rushed assault, he ran to the railings and
pulled the imperfection from sight, then turned full-circle and admired his
handy work. He had to admit, although he didn’t choose the flowers he certainly
knew where to place them and how to wind them to make them look engaging. Purple
flowers and foliage twisted and turned around the ageing gazebo. It’ll only
took him the best part of 4 hours. That alone would impress her since she knew
how much he hated mornings.
He’d
thought of putting the words “Will you marry me” separately on a post-it each
so she had to twirl around the entire gazebo admiring his work before noticing
him down on one knee with the ring his mother had given him. But he wanted to
say those four important words, hear them come from his own mouth as she
replied with a resounding yes.
Thinking
of what was about to happen Sam slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out
the old velveted red box, and sprung it slowly open. The gold band was slim and
delicate, shining in the morning sun, perfect for her beautiful fingers. The
large mesmerising oval opal sat circled by twelve smaller diamonds. They
sparkled and glistened as light from the morning sun bounced off them, bringing
small dark spots into his eyes. He loved this ring.
He’d
seen his mum wearing it for years and she said his grandma had worn it too. He
loved multi-generational objects like this. Items, memorabilia, photographs all
with a story behind them. It made him want kids so badly. Not lots, but a few
at least. Especially a little boy, one his future wife could give their
engagement ring to, when he came to her to tell her how much he loved a girl
and wanted to ask her to marry him; just like Sam did with his mum last month.
That’s when she’d given him the ring.
Suddenly
realising he’d been caught in his own head for a while, he snapped back to the
present, and searched the street corner he knew she’d been appearing from.
As
he did his phone vibrated in his pocket, he put his hand into his pocket and
replaced his phone with the ring box.
‘B
@ urs a little l8. Auntie’s had sum emergency wiv her nails. Sigh. Hr @ mst.
Luv u X’
He
cringed at her text speak. He hated that she typed like that, especially when
she was so intelligent. Her messaging habits made her seem stupid, and like her
life was so rushed, that she didn’t even have time to message properly. He
sighed, and slumped into the bench on the gazebo, staring into the sky. At
least this gave him time to calm down a little.
