Answering Machine

Curious, I flipped the card over, but found there to be nothing else written on it. Smiling to myself, I picked up my bags and headed towards the door.

“I’ve got to run, guys, but I’ll see you tomorrow!” I called by the time I was practically halfway out the door. They both called back with good-byes and I rushed down the hallway to the school’s main entrance.

As I approached my car, I grinned, noticing yet another stargazer lily caught under one of the windshield wipers. I unlocked my car and dropped my bags onto the back seat before reaching across the hood of the car to grab the flower. Just as there had been on the first flower, a small piece of paper was tied to the stem.

I love the way you sing along with the radio when you drive.

I smiled, slightly shocked that there was no joke about how badly he thought I sang, especially in the car. Clutching the flower between my fingers, I slid into the car and headed for home as fast as I possibly could.

As soon as I pulled into my usual parking spot outside the apartment complex, I had spotted another lily. Forgetting about my bags in the back seat and only holding on to the two flowers I’d already collected, I leaped out of my car and grabbed the third from the curb in front of my car.

I love the way you always park in this spot. (And the way you get mad if someone else parks here.)

I let myself laugh out loud at that message, before turning and practically skipping to the building’s entrance. I was about to push through the glass doors when a gleam of pink caught my attention. I backtracked towards the bench in the small garden in front of the building, picking up the flower.

I love the way you storm outside and sit here after we have an argument until I convince you to come back inside.

I smiled, although almost sadly, at this one, as well, before adding it to the growing collection in my left fist , before stepping inside.

On the first step of the building’s stairs, there was another one.

I love the way you always take the stairs.

I dashed up the stairs then, running up all four flights and down the hallway until I reached the door to our apartment, huffing and nearly out of breath. Upon opening the door, I narrowly avoided stepping on the flower that lay on the floor by my feet.

I love the way you kick off your heels after a day at work. Sometimes you just start pulling off your work clothes on the way to the bedroom to get changed, and I like that even more.

I felt a slight blush creep up my neck and to my cheeks, realizing that he wasn’t going to hold anything back. I smirked, though, and kicked off my shoes just as the note had described, and headed towards the flower that was perched on the back of the couch.

I love the way you curl up on the couch with me, even if I just sit there while you read a book or correct papers.

I smiled, running my fingers over the lettering on the paper. It was funny to think that John actually noticed and liked my stupid, nondescript, everyday habits. I began to think of his habits and which ones I thought to be endearing, until I was distracted by yet another flower in the bookcase.

I love the way you read so many books.

Not far from the book flower was another, lying on top of the record player.

I love the way you put on a record and slow dance with me.

I sighed happily, thinking back to the times we had done that, whether it had been in our sweatpants and pajamas or in our nice clothes before we went out for an evening, and began to make my way into the kitchen, where I found a flower on top of the coffee maker.

I love the way you wake up early and make my coffee just the way I like it.

Unable to find any more flowers scattered throughout the kitchen, I walked into the hallway. I merely stuck my head into the bathroom to look around, shrugging at the absence of flowers, and figuring that no one’s bathroom habits were particularly likeable, anyhow.

Upon entering the bedroom, I immediately noticed five flowers. First, I picked up the lily on my vanity.

I love the way you get ready in the morning. Sometimes, even though you think I’m still asleep, I just lay in bed and watch you.

I laughed at this one, even though it was sweet. I wished he had thrown in more little secrets about himself in all of the notes. Secondly, I picked up the flower on top of my dresser.

I love the way you dress like it’s 1953, and sometimes like it’s 1967.

I looked down at the clothes I was wearing: a high-wasited narrow skirt and buttoned blouse, and then smirked, immediately thinking of June Cleaver.

The next three lilies that I picked up were scattered on the bed, and I could already feel myself blushing at the prospect of what they would read. Nevertheless, I grabbed the one closest to me and gently opened the note.

I love the way you love me.

Even though he had worded it in a mellow fashion, I still felt myself blushing fiercely at what I knew he had meant. I found myself looking over my shoulders, as if he might suddenly appear behind me, and only then did it occur to me to think of his whereabouts. I sighed and figured that perhaps this scheme of lilies would eventually lead me to him, and picked up the next flower from the pillow on my side of the bed.

I love the way you talk in your sleep. (Yep, you do.)

I let out a small gasp, surprised he had never told me that I talked in my sleep. What did I say? It couldn’t be anything bad if he never brought it up, right? Shaking my head, I reached for the last flower.

I love the way you don’t get mad that I’m not here with you every night.

On instinct, I flipped the card over, even though there hadn’t been anything on the backs of the previous notes, and found more of John’s words.

I’m sorry I can’t be here with you every night.

Before I could catch myself, I felt tears sting my eyes and begin to cloud my head. I wiped at my eyes with my free hand – the one that wasn’t clutching the sixteen lilies I had already collected – and looked around for any more flowers that might have been lying around. Eventually I found them, a whole trail of them, all without note cards attached to the stems, leading to the tiny excuse of a balcony adjacent to the room. I slid the door open and stepped outside, looking around. The only way to look, it seemed, was up. Sure enough, the trail of lilies continued up the fire escape of the old building. I grimaced, but grasped the partially rusted bar and began climbing my way up, and up, and up, stepping over the lily that lay on each metal step.

I finally made it to the top, silently cursing myself for being barefoot and clad in a skirt. As soon as I landed my feet safely on the floor of the roof, my heart felt as if it was beating ten times stronger. I couldn’t be sure if it had to do with the fact that I had just scaled six stories worth of fire escape, or if it was the image of John standing alone in the middle of the vast roof, or maybe even a combination of the both, but I was willing to bet it had more to do with the latter.

“John?” I called out softly, though loud enough that he could hear me, as I approached him, barely noticing or caring about the heat underneath my bare feet. He simply stood still, staring at me with his smoldering eyes, a smile playing on his lips as he watched me approach. As I got closer, I realized that he was holding a single stargazer lily between his fingers – the last stargazer lily I was meant to find.

If I had thought my heart was pounding strongly a moment ago, I wasn’t exactly sure what to think of its beating pattern right now. I stared at John, now standing in front of him, trying to steady the flow of thoughts, of possibilities, rushing through my mind.

Was this just a cute gesture? Was he trying to make up for being gone? Was it something more serious? There could have been a dozen more reasons for us to be standing on the roof of our apartment building, I’m sure, but I couldn’t think of them as he simply smiled softly and stretched out his arm to hand me the lily.

I looked at him briefly before gently taking it from his grasp. I ran my thumb over the edges of the folded paper tied to the stem, both hesitant and anxious. I unfolded the paper, smoothing it out between my fingers before allowing myself to decipher the simple, narrow handwriting.

“I love you.”

John spoke the words he had written as my eyes glanced over them. I moved my eyes up from the paper to look at him, only finding that I had to bring my gaze back down, as he was now perched in front of me on one knee.

“John,” I breathed, unsure of what I could possibly say or do, or even think, at the moment.

“Lindsay,” he responded, his voice soft but loud enough for me to hear him clearly. He gently pulled the lily from my grasp, setting it on the ground beside us, so he could hold my hands in his. “I don’t know why it took us so long to figure this out; our families and friends, and even people we barely knew, seemed to know long before we did that we’d be together. And yeah, maybe sometimes we wish things had worked out differently so we could have been together longer, but that doesn’t matter to me anymore.”

I could feel the second onset of tears approaching, and I closed my eyes for a moment to attempt to halt them, before John continued.

“And who knows? Things could have ended up completely different had we started to date when we were younger. Maybe we needed to wait until we did to really realize it all. All I’m saying is that if things had been different, I might not have gotten the chance to be here right now, telling you how in love with you I am, and how I plan on spending the rest of my life with you.”

I felt myself hiccup as an uncontrollable cry got tangled in my throat along with a nervous laugh. This couldn’t be happening, could it? This didn’t happen in real life. Girls didn’t follow trails of their favorite flowers to find the love of the life standing on a rooftop. This was everything that unrealistic movies were made of, and it was happening to me.

John looked up at me, and he must have seen the expression on my face, because his own twisted nervously and he ran his thumbs gently over my own as he took a deep, shaky breath.

“You’ve been my best friend for so long, Lindsay, and becoming my girlfriend never changed that. You know me better than anyone else, and you love me like no one else has ever loved me, and I want to know it will be that way forever, for the rest of my life.”

My breathing was rapid, but I must have been doing a decent job of concealing the fact, because John didn’t look concerned that I might keel over any minute. I certainly felt that way, though, like I would pass out because I was so overwhelmed. I felt as if I might explode. With what, I didn’t know. Anxiety? Nerves? Happiness? Love? I could feel myself practically gawking as he pulled a small, black velvet box from his pocket, and even with all of the nerves shooting through my body, I couldn’t help but wonder how he had fit it in his pocket without me noticing it.

“Lindsay,” he started, before clearing his throat and blinking nervously at me. I swear I had never seen him more of wreck than he was in those few moments. His eyes were darting, though they remained focused on my face, and I could feel his hands turn cold and clammy in my own. I’m sure I wasn’t doing much better than him, though, especially not when he began to speak again, “will you marry me?”

Even though I had gauged pretty well the question that shot from his mouth, I couldn’t help but feel as though dynamite had just been set off in my body. And then I laughed. I instantaneously brought my hand to my mouth, embarrassed that I had begun laughing, of all the godforsaken things I could have done at that moment.

“Lindsay?” John questioned, his voice wavering as though it might break, if possible.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, speaking softly before realizing that was probably the second to last thing any man wanted to hear after he proposed, right after a solid ‘no.’ “It’s just – it’s just that one of my students asked me today if I was going to marry you.”

“What – what did you say?” John asked hesitantly, and I didn’t blame him. It wasn’t exactly customary to share stories before an answer, was it?

“I told her you had to ask me first,” I explained, my nervous laughter mixing with my tears again, forcing an awkward sound to emit from my voice, “and now here you are, asking me. And she told me,” I chuckled slightly again, “she told me that if you asked me, I should say yes.”

John simply stared up at me, practically expressionless.

“And…” he continued meekly, his skin growing pale.

“And,” I continued again, biting down on my lip as a smile started to appear on my lips, “I don’t think I should let her down.”

A look of sheer relief washed over John’s face and he stood up slowly, staring intently at me the whole time.

“So,” he said lowly, and still nervously, bringing his nose a mere inch from mine, “is that a yes?”

I grinned and nodded, before wrapping my arms around his neck and bringing my lips close to his ear, so I could whisper:

“That’s a definitely.”