Page 76 of Surviving the Break
The top of my desk hid beneath the colorful garnishes, and my chair had been piled high with the floral bouquets as well. The files I held slipped from my loose fingers. The papers drifted through the air, but the flowers spread over the ground broke their fall.
I pulled a folded note from an arrangement of irises.In Max’s handwriting, it read, A symbol of wisdom—Ash, through the experience ofyourlove, I now know what love truly means—and valor—a show of great courage in the face of danger.
I moved on to the purple lilac,the symbol of first love:Nothing before you counts.
I pressed the note close to my heart, trying to contain the seed of hope sprouting inside me.
Next were the white roses:New beginnings and everlasting love.
The red Carnation:Passion. His very detailed note sent a zing of lust through me.
I got to my desk, eventually, and the whole surface was stuffed with red roses.Max’s note simply read,I love you. A thousand times.
That was everything I’d wanted, but it frightened me. It gave my heart an edge in the tug of war with my head. My fear propelled me outside of my office. “Debra!” I growled. She fumbled her phone, nearly knocking her glasses off, shooting straight out of her chair. She grabbed her right hip, wincing.
“Are you all right?” I approached with my hands out.
“I’m fine.” She brushed me off, rubbing the area.
I sighed, feeling like an ass. “I can’t fit all these flowers into my car, and there’s way too
many to leave in the office. Do you want to take some home? Maybe place a few on your desk?”
She smiled warmly. “I’d love to.”
“Okay.” I turned to reenter my office but paused. “Not the roses.” I peeked over my shoulder to catch her doing a shimmy, her hip obviously fine.
She stopped, nodding and fighting a smirk. “Not the roses.”
I went back inside and slammed my door.
Clearing off my chair and shifting some of the roses around my desk, I logged into my computer and came face to face with Max. Someone had installed the picture of us after Pete’s performance as my wallpaper. And then, I realized after a few seconds of inactivity, they’d also made it my screensaver with the wordsI love you, Ashbouncing around the corners of the screen. Not a problem; I could easily fix that. Except a program had been installed that prevented me from removing the photo. “Damon,” I whispered as I spun my chair to stare out the window with my hands steepled in front of my face. Max was fighting for me. I dropped my head back on my seat and closed my eyes at the same time that my lips formed a smile.
IARRIVEDat The Center that night and went into the library and trudged up the winding steps that led to the medical lab, so deep in thought it didn’t occur to me that I should’ve heard the kids’ eager voices by now. I walked into the empty room and froze, startled when the door closed and locked behind me. On the other side, someone scurried away. I turned the knob experimentally, but sure enough, it was locked.
Facing the room again, my eyes made a circuit, taking in the life-sized cardboard selfies of Max and me plastered around the room. In one, he and I were lounging and laughing by my pool. I remembered that day clearly. I had crawled out of the pool after having been tossed in against my will, and after tackling him to the ground and tickling him, he’d snapped a photo of us.
I moved on to the next shot, reaching out to run a shaky hand down his face in the photo standee. I was asleep in his bed. He’d made love to me thoroughly moments before, and he’d taken a picture of himself kissing my face as I slept. I’d never seen that one before.
And the next, a picture of us sandwiching Pluto on my couch, one of our favorite things to do. Pluto licked my face in a mid-shot.
I circled. So many photos. Most were new to me. Candid shots of Max observing me without my knowledge. Me absorbed in a book, listening intently to Trish’s complaining at the clinic. Me bickering with Damon.
The one that made my breath hitch, though, was taken during Christmas dinner at my mother’s house, during a pre-dinner ritual we called theThank You Table.This one wasn’t taken by Max, but it was of Max watching me when everyone else, including myself, had their heads bowed in thanks and prayer. The look on his face reflected untamed...love.
A remote rested on a desk at the front of the room with a note that said, “press play.” I headed for the door again, jiggling the knob.
“Not until you watch the video,” came Sam’s playful, snickering voice.
I dropped my head between my shoulders, then walked over, sat in a chair, and aimed the remote toward the television mounted on the wall. The screen went from blue to an out-of-focus outline of what looked like one of the Center’s kids.
“What does love mean to you, Timmy?” the voice behind the camera asked.
“It means saying you’re sorry, even when you don’t know why.” Timmy hopped off the stool with a flourish. Next up was little Debbie.
“It means never saying goodbye, forever,” said Debbie, her pigtails swinging with the force of her nodding.
“If you love someone, you shouldn’t stay mad at them for making a mistake,” pleaded a young Samuel, sticking a finger below his thick-framed glasses to wipe a stray tear.
