since feeling is first

TREA looked at the different flowers that filled the shop with their sweet fragrance. Each blossom was special, each had its own meaning, though he knew most people had forgotten or didn’t care much about it anymore.

It had been a long time since he had visited this flower shop, but he had his reasons for doing so. Today was special; he would be seeing Miska again. He couldn’t go and visit her empty handed. It was against his very nature!

He smiled, picking up a single rose before putting it back, as he remembered the first time they had visited this shop together.

----------------------------------

“Why are we here, TREA?” Miska asked, eyeing the flowers around her wearily.

“Because,” he said as he looked at each flower, “I wanted to get you something. I know you’re not into anything extravagant”--he turned to her--”which, by the way, confuses me to no end.”

“So, you decided that you’re going to get me flowers?” She sighed. “You know that they’re only going to live for a little while, and then they’ll die. Why bother getting them in the first place?”

TREA took a single flower into his hand and brought it to his nose. He nodded in approval and then turned to her. “Because they’re beautiful while they last. Who cares if they won’t be around for long?” He handed her the flower. “What do you think?”

“A red rose?” she asked, taking the flower into her hand. She raised an eyebrow.

“What, you don’t like it?”

Miska shrugged and put the flower back into its black, water-filled container. “Not really. They’re overrated and overused.”

“I see your point,” TREA said. He turned around and took a branch covered with small, pink buds. He held it out to her. “What about this?”

“What kind of flower it?” she asked, taking the branch from his hands. She rubbed the smooth petals in-between her fingertips.

"That, Miska, is a peach blossom. It means 'I'm your captive.'" He got down on his knees and took her hands into his. "What would you want this lowly slave to do for you, master?"

Miska looked around the store, blushing. "I-Idiot! What are you doing? Stop that! And get up, for God's sake!"

He laughed as he pushed himself up off the floor. “All right, all right. But at least let me get you something before we leave.”

She rolled her eyes, her arms folded across her chest. “Fine. Just hurry up, okay?”

It didn’t take him long to find the flower he was looking for. He grabbed a handful of them and walked up to the cashier. The cashier, a young woman in her late thirties, looked at the flowers, then at him, then at Miska. She smiled.

“They’re on the house,” the woman said, handing the flowers back to him.

His eyes widened. “That’s not necessary. I can pay for them--”

The woman shook her head. “Please, it’s all right.” She looked at Miska.“You shouldn’t keep your girlfriend waiting.”

“Thank you,” TREA said, bowing. He made his way to Miska, who looked more bored than when they had first walked in, and handed her the bouquet. “For you, Miska.”

“Camellias...” she said, staring at the red blossoms in her hand.

TREA nodded. His fingers twitched as he waited for her response.

Miska brought the blossoms to her nose, closed her eyes, and took in a deep breath. She sighed contently. Opening her eyes, she looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you, TREA.”

----------------------------------

TREA exited the flower shop, bouquet in hand. There were no camellias today, but he had a feeling she would like the flowers he had gotten for her nonetheless.

He passed by a couple of smaller shops. Most of them were unoccupied, thanks to the larger corporations that had made those stores obsolete, but there were a couple of stores here and there that were still open. One of them, that happened to be his favorite store in the whole world, was a cake shop by the name of Ivy L. MacBeth’s Treats From Around the World.

Once he had passed the store, he heard a voice call out to him. “TREA?” the low feminine voice asked.

He turned around and smiled. "Hello, Ms. MacBeth! How are you today?"

"I'm doing well, TREA," Ivy said, wiping her hands on her apron. “You were just going to walk by without buying anything or, at the very least, stopping to say hello? You know, you’re almost the only reason I’m still in business.”

“I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration.” He laughed sheepishly.

“Well, perhaps so.” She looked at the flowers in his hand. "Ah, visiting Miska again, are we?"

He nodded. "Of course! It's been too long since I've seen her."

“I won't keep you, then. Tell her 'hello' for me. Ah, wait! I have something for her.” She ran into her store for a minute. When she came out she had a slice of red velvet cake in her hands. Smiling, she handed it TREA. “Please give that to her.”

He nodded. “I will. I’ll see you later!”

“You’d better!” she called out to him.

A couple of times on the way he was stopped. It was starting to get on his nerves, to be honest, even though he knew they were just trying to be friendly. But they were keeping him from visiting Miska. It wasn’t until he was about a half-a-mile away from town that he was able to walk to his destination in peace.

He was nearly there when he looked to his left and saw a small willow tree. His gait slowed as he stared at it. Another place that held memories for them.

--------------------------------

“And this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart. I carry your heart. I carry it in my heart,” TREA finished. He looked at Miska, her head laid against his shoulder. She stared back at him, her hazel eyes filled with wonder.

“That was beautiful,” she said, looking at the book in his hands. “I’m not really into sappy love poems like this, but I liked this one. Who was it written by?”

“E.E. Cummings. I like his poems, too. They’re very...unconventional.”

“Like you.”

He flicked the blue clip in her hair, much to her dismay. “Yes, I guess you could say that.” He looked at the once blue sky, now tainted with a faint pink. “We should probably get going. It’s getting late.”

“Just one more,” Miska insisted. “Unless, of course, you want to leave me so soon...”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder tighter. “That’s quite unfair, you know that?”

“Of course. But you don’t seem to mind, do you?” She took the book from his hands and started flipping through it. “Say, are there any more poems by him?”

He held his hand out, and she placed book in his palm. He flipped though a couple of pages, knowing exactly where to find the poem he was looking for, and then stopped. “I’ve saved the best for last.”

She scooted closer to him, her eyes closed. “All right. What’s it called?”

“Since feeling is first.”

“Hmm.”

“Since feeling is first, who pays any attention to the syntax of things...will never wholly kiss you; wholly to be a fool--”

"Well, you've certainly gotten the 'fool' part down."

"Are there going to be any more interruptions? Or should I just stop reading?" TREA asked in mock-irritation.

"No, there won't be," Miska said, laughing. "Continue--you were saying?"

"Wholly to be a fool while Spring is in the world. My blood approves, and kisses are a better fate than wisdom.” He brought his hand to her mouth, his thumb brushing against her lower lip. He rested his forehead against hers. “I can honestly say I agree with Mr. Cummings...”

Miska bit her lower lip, her eyebrows furrowed. “TREA?”

“Yes?” he asked. He had moved his hand from her lips to her cheek. He lowered his head further, his lips barely grazing against hers.

“The poem.”

TREA cleared his throat and sat up straight. “Of course,” he said, taking the book back into his hands. “Where were we?”

“A better fate than wisdom?” Miska offered.

“Ah, yes,” he said. “Lady, I swear by all flowers. Don't cry--the best gesture of my brain is less than your eyelids' flutter, which says we are for each other. Then laugh, leaning back in my arms, for life's not a paragraph. And death--” Again he stopped, but this time he didn’t continue.

Silence.

“And death, I think, is no parenthesis,” Miska read, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes.” He didn’t know what else to say.

More silence. They didn’t say anything for a long time. TREA took one of Miska’s hands into his own, startling her in the process. It intrigued him, seeing her hand in his own. It seemed so small, so frail, but he knew better. She had a strength that he could only wish he possessed.

"TREA," Miska started, her gaze on their interwoven hands, "there's something I want you to promise me."

He frowned. "Miska, not this again."

"Yes, again."

"You know how much I hate talking about it--"

"And you think I enjoy it?" she demanded, her gaze firm. After a moment, she sighed. "I don't, TREA! I don't. But it's going to happen sooner or later. You know that."

He looked away. "Of course I do. I knew the moment I first met you."

"At least hear me out." She placed a hand on his cheek, turning his head so that he was facing her. "Please, for me?"

He hated it when she did that. She knew all-too-well that he could never say no to her when she asked him like that. He sighed. “All right. What it is?”

“I know when I’m...gone...,” Miska said slowly, struggling with the words. TREA couldn’t blame her. How many people could talk about their own morality nonchalantly? “I know that there will be other women in your life.”

“Miska--”

“Wait, let me finish,” she said. “I know there will be other women in your life. I’ve already accepted that fact.” She laughed wryly. “That’s just the way you are. I can’t change that. I’m not sure I really want to either.”

She squeezed his hand tighter, her voice strained as she continued, “All I ask is that you don’t forget me. The way I am here, today.” She looked at herself, then at him. “Please, that’s all I want. Promise me.”

“I promise,” TREA said, placing a small kiss in the center of her forehead.

What else could he have possibly said?

Miska smiled. Her head rested against his shoulder again. “Thank you.”

------------------------

“Hello, Miska,” TREA said softly. He knelt down on the plush green grass, not caring that his pants would be stained. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited you in a while. I guess you could say that I lost track of time.”

His fingers traced her name, etched into the cold white and black marble tombstone. He had wanted to get her something better, something more than the plain slab in front of him, but he knew she would have protested. Miska had always preferred simple tastes, a fact that amused and perplexed him even now.

“Ah, before I forget, here!” He placed the slice of cake on the grass in front of the stone. “A gift from Ms. MacBeth. She told me to say, ‘Hi.’ You’re probably wondering who on Earth Ms. MacBeth is, huh?” He paused. “Well, you never got the chance to meet her. She was a little after your time, but she’s an excellent baker. She has the best cakes in town! And her red velvet cake is to die for. I know you’d like them.”

The grass swayed as a small breeze blew by.

“It’s amazing how the days just melt into each other. A week can pass, and I won’t even realize it!” TREA smiled, crossing his legs. He patted the grass softly. “But I knew today was special. I knew I couldn’t have it melt into all the other days. You know why, right?”

A cricket chirped in the distance. He looked at the sky, already starting to become tainted with the pink glow of twilight.

Just like that time...

“It’s our anniversary,” he said, closing his eyes. “It’s been one hundred and fifty years since we first met. I can’t believe that much time has passed.” He opened his eyes. “I’m kind of surprised that some of these landmarks are still here. The flower shop, the old willow tree--you know, the one where you made me promise...”

He didn’t continue. A few more crickets joined the first one in its chirping. The light was fading fast, the sky now a deep shade of red. It was quickly turning to a dark blue.

“Do you remember what you told me? You said that there would be other women in my life. That you had already accepted that fact.”

TREA could already see the stars appear on the horizon, but he didn’t hurry. She needed to hear what he had to say, what he had wanted to say so many years ago.

“But you know, Miska, you were wrong. Yes, there have been other woman--many others, actually--but not in the way you were thinking. It's not that they weren't attractive or kind or anything like that. There were many woman who almost literally threw themselves at my feet. Most men would kill for that kind of attention. I think before I met you I would have done the same. But the thing is, I could never be with any of them; I didn’t want any of them. Because, when it comes down to it--"

His voice cracked.

"They weren't you.” His eyes stung. He could feel a warm trail of moisture run down his cheek, but he didn’t wipe it away. He swallowed, pushing back his tears, and continued, “I still haven’t found anyone who could put me in place like you could.” He chuckled sadly. “I’m not sure I ever will. And Miska? I know you’ll hate me for saying it, since it’s so ‘sappy’ and all, but...I hope you will forgive me. I just have to say it.”.

A calm, peaceful silence filled the air.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. Until the day I die, I will always...always love you.”

He looked up. The sky was filled with stars that shone back at him brightly. He had stayed longer than he had expected.

“I have to go now. I’ll try and visit you more often.” TREA took the flowers in his lap and placed them next to the slice of cake.

Pink carnations--he could think of no better flower to give her.