Dreamland

Two

Two: Weddings Under the Slide

            I groaned, pulling the fluffy comforter closer around me, enveloping my whole body in the sea of blankets. Jeremy laughed and instructed me to move over, so I did, taking the white jumble with me. After a minute of rustling, Jeremy’s face was right in front of mine, and two pairs of green eyes stared each other down under the tangle of sheets, pillows, and blankets we had created as a nest for my weak body.

            “I am the definition of lackadaisical,” I whispered.

            “You’re sick. It’s your job to be lackadaisical,” Jeremy comforted. “And even today, you’re still beautiful.”

            And so we kissed. Even though I pulled back and informed him that I was going to infect him with the flu, we kissed. We had more conversations containing big words we’d learned from his parents, who were both English professors. My mother brought us each a cup of noodles and she smiled at the sight of us bundled up together, watching a movie. She told me later that we had looked like a giant marsh-mellow with two head that liked to look at each other with an affection one only read about in books.

            When we got bored, Jeremy sang for me. He let me rest my head on his chest, no matter how much my tangled hair scratched against his neck, and he sang.

            “Red is the rose, that yonder garden grows. Fair is the lily of the valley,” he serenaded. His angelic voice carried the tune throughout the little room, and I fell into a peaceful slumber. When I woke, he was still singing. My moving about in my sleep seemed to have caused him to move into what looked like an astrociously uncomfortable position, but all he did was smile at me and keep singing until I silenced him with a soft kiss.

            He told me stories; all kinds of stories. Real stories from his youth, stories from the storybook on my shelf, and stories he made up then and there, which were always my favorite.

            When instructed to get my phone from my desk, Jeremy did as he was told, but found a small plastic ring sitting there that I had obtained from my dentist quite a few weeks ago. Before crawling back into my bed, he got down on one knee and fake-proposed to me as if we were children on the playground. I told him yes, and we were fake-married as we lay in my cocoon of soft blankets. The rest of the evening-in which we did nothing more than speak and sleep-I couldn’t help but hope that one day I could take the ‘fake’ out of Jeremy’s new title of ‘Daisy’s fake husband’.

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

Dedicated to Indie_RISE because she comments nice things. :)