Smell Of Daises

Chapter 5

My mom is a lot different from me, she hasn't been single in like 20 years. Not because she's been married for that long, not at all actually. She's just a huge flirt, dating a new guy every month it seems like. As long as she's happy I guess.

"Are you coming shopping with us?" Audrey asked.

"Of course" I hopped into her mint green car.

She got it for her 17th birthday, even though she doesn't even have her drivers licence yet. Everyone at our school go shopping at the same place, I guess it's because we only have two shopping areas in our town. No one goes to the second one because that's where all the middle aged moms shop. 

The street was crowded with people. A row of bikes were next to the river and the diners were filled with people waiting for their food on a monday afternoon. The sun smiled down at me, sometimes I think that the sun is the only thing on my side. We walked past the street band playing their old school instruments. It was a perfect day.

"Let's go into this boutique!" Audrey dragged my arm.

It was the fanciest place I had been to in a long time. They had an entire area of the boutique with fancy dresses.I found the cutest dress I had seen in my life! It had floral print with puffy arms and a sweetheart neckline.  I glanced at the price tag, 130 dollars for a dress? 

"Oh my! That's like so you! You should try it on!" They all insisted.

I went into the dressing room. I put on the dress, it was down to my knees almost. I zipped it up, it fitted perfectly. I felt expensive in the dress I went out of the dressing room to show my friends. It was like their eyes light up when they saw me in it. I went back in and changed into my regular clothes. 

"I wish I could afford it..." I laughed it off.

"I will buy it for you!" She took the dress to the register. 

"Audrey..."

"It's on me!"

I went home with a smile on my face. This dress will look perfect for tomorrow at school. I wonder how Christopher will react. I hope he likes it! Another letter was on my bed, from Christopher perhaps? 

Dear Daisy

You seem to enjoy my letters, so I will continue sending them. Meet me by the sunflower field where the sun always shines. The one next to the warm river where we had our first picnic together. 4:44 pm, our favorite angel number. From your dear Christopher.

I quickly put on the newly bought dress with the blue flowers on it. I even put on my favorite pearl necklace that I got from my father before he went away and never came back. I wonder what he's doing now.

"Wow, you're dressed up! Special day?" My mom walked into my room.

"Well I have to meet Christopher right now, bye mom!" I waved goodbye.

The sunflower field might be the warmest place in our city. At least warmest in my heart. There Christopher was, as handsome as always. His messy light brown hair shined like the sun, he smiled once he saw me. We fell in love in June, that's why I love summer. 

"Daisy, remember this place? This is where I first met you." He laid down on the grass next to the sunflowers.

I remember that day so well. We were eight, he sat right there on the tree branch. I was here with my mom, we were walking home from our picnic when I saw him. I wore a white midlenght dress with ruffles on top and a white bow in my hair. He sat there on the tree with dirty shoes and a shirt with stripes. He said hi as we walked past the tree. My mom told him to be careful and not fall down. 

"Yeah I do, you were always covered in dirt." I laid down next to him. 

"Isn't it crazy that we're off to college soon? There's a chance that we'll never meet again, and if we meet we'll pretend that we're strangers." 

"Like we did when we started middle school? We reconnected again, and we'll do it again after college." I reminded him.

"What if we move to paris and live together there while being in college. Would you want that, Daisy? Just away from everybody, you and me." 

"I would love that."

Relationships are like glass. Sometimes you don't realize that it's better to leave it broken than to hurt yourself trying to put it back together. You are my broken glass but I'm willing to always cut my hands to put you back together.