I Love You to Death

Cloud nine – a state of euphoria or bliss
∞

Playlist:
1. Undisclosed desires – Muse
2. Unchained melody – U2 version
3. Kiss me – Ed Sheeran
∞

I never realised what wanting someone was really like. The power it holds over you, the way it can make you feel, the way it completely messes with your brain. It’s like the biggest rush, the greatest high, where you can simultaneously feel like you’re floating and falling and you don’t ever want it to stop.
I never got that with Sam. With him, one minute we weren’t and the next minute we were. We happened so quickly, that as soon as we did, I couldn’t really remember a time without him. With Adam, I’d simply never thought it could happen, so by the time I got around to acknowledging it, I already had him anyway.
With Luke however, it all just crept up on me. That tension, the longing and especially the want. I wasn’t looking for it, I didn’t expect it and I certainly wasn’t sure I wanted to risk it. But suddenly it was there and now that I see it, now that I feel it, I can’t believe I ever thought I could go without it. It’s all I ever think about. He’s all I ever think about. It’s simultaneously unbearable and unbelievable.
And it just makes me want him even more.
∞

My grandmother’s death was difficult for me. I know what happened was my fault. But, I also know when she died, she was with my Grandad again, and there was a tiny part of me that couldn’t ignore that. It was still wrong, everything that happened, but them being together was a tiny bit of good that I could take from it all. So yeah, I still felt responsible and I still felt guilty, but a part of me felt something else too.
They had such a beautiful life together my grandparents, true soul mates who had a story like something out of a movie. The really sappy ones about a young boy who fell in love with the young girl who lived next door, who never gave up on her, watched her and pursued her and fell in love with her. The young boy and girl who became a young man and woman who fell madly in love, who danced together, loved together and stayed together for decades, never losing that love. That was their story. I loved hearing it growing up and it made me wish for a story like that of my own. I thought I’d found it when I met Sam, although the start of our relationship wasn’t under the best of circumstances. But I can still remember, even from when I was young, the huge amount of love and joy that flowed between my grandparents whenever they were around each other. It was beautiful to watch and even though I was a kid, seeing it was some of my most favourite memories of them.
"Grandma?"
"Yes Asha?" Grandma said, smoothing my hair back as I stood beside her at the kitchen bench.
"What are you doing?"
"I’m making your Grandad a birthday cake," she said smiling down at me.
"Can I help?" I asked, standing on my toes so I could see what she was doing.
"Of course you can."
Grandma pulled me in for a hug as she leant down and kissed the top of my head and I wrapped my arms around her waist hugging her back. After she’d helped me tie on an apron and wash my hands, we spent the rest of the morning baking, Grandma telling me what to do and me trying very hard to follow her instructions and not mess anything up. The whole time we were cooking, I listened to her sing along to all the old songs that were playing from the radio. I had no idea what any of them were, I was only nine at the time, but I loved listening to her sing them.
"Hello ladies," Grandad suddenly said, walking into the kitchen and kissing Grandma on the cheek as I was licking the cake mixture off the spoon.
I giggled as I watched them. When I did, Grandad turned and pulled a funny face at me. My laugh got louder as I ran out of the kitchen waiting for him to chase me. I was in the living room by the time he caught up to me and with no effort at all, he picked me up and hauled me over his shoulder.
"What are you laughing at missy?" he asked, walking us back into the kitchen, me still slung over his shoulders.
"You!" I said, still laughing.
"What about me?" Grandad asked.
I laughed again, I couldn’t help it, as Grandad sat me down on the kitchen bench and leant over to kiss Grandma again. "You and Grandma," I said giggling.
"What about me and Grandma?"
"Kissing!" I yelled.
Grandad only laughed as he reached in and tickled me more, making me laugh so much I dropped the spoon I was licking. I looked over at Grandma as she started laughing too and I remember her saying, "Ah Ash, you’ll be like this one day, when you meet the love of your life."
"No!" I said confidently.
"Yes you will my sweet, yes you will," Grandma said, leaning in to kiss my cheek and tickle me too.
I didn’t know what she meant by that. At the time I thought kissing was gross. It wasn’t till years later that I understood what Grandma meant and just how true her words really were.
∞

When I wake up this morning the first thought that pops into my head is of Luke. I realise once more that I’ve dreamt of him. And once again, the nightmares have stayed away. I also realise I haven’t thought of Sam. And for the first time, none of that bothers me, it’s only Luke I want to think about and dream of, and I don’t feel guilty about that anymore.
As I shower and get ready for work I’m still thinking of him, wondering what he’s doing, whether he’s at work already. His voice fills my apartment, but now I want to hear it for real, I want to hear his voice talking to me, or even better, singing to me. I want his mouth at my ear and his words flowing through me. I want to feel his arms around me again. I’m longing to see him, I crave the idea of touching him and I’m aching with wanting to kiss him. My body heats under the water at just the thought, and I have to switch off the hot just so I can cool down.
Even though I think I know how Luke feels about me and as much as I crave him, I’m still a little bit afraid. Somehow, I don’t trust that what I see happening between us, is really real. How can it be, how can I deserve it after everything I’ve done?
When I finally get to work, I walk through the door and the first thing I hear is Luke singing in the kitchen. I hear his voice as it sings only to me, even if he has no idea that’s what he’s doing. I stop for a minute, just to listen. To enjoy the sound of his voice as it floats out towards me, wraps itself around me. Closing my eyes, I try to imagine it’s his arms that are wrapping around me. A shudder runs through me and I force my eyes to open and start to make us coffee.
When I take it out to him, he looks up and smiles at me. That smile, his smile. His whole face lights up and I smile back because I just can’t stop myself. I hand him the mug and when he takes it, our fingers touch. I have to grip the mug harder just so I won’t drop it and for a minute, we both stand there, holding it together, our fingers resting on the hot cup. I force myself to breathe and let go. Force myself to say, "Morning."
He smiles again, "Morning Ash."
Another minute and we keep standing there, silently watching each other. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. I’m not sure how much longer this can go on without something, anything happening.

Kiss me.

It’s Luke who finally does something. "Ash, we ahh…" he continues, "we have a show this weekend, it’s um…it’s kind of a big deal." His hand runs over his head again. I know now this is something he does when he’s nervous or not sure what to say. "Will you come along?"
As I stand there watching him, all I can think about is what it would be like to kiss him, what it would be like to run my hands over his hair. How soft would it be? What would his lips feel like, what would he taste like, if I kissed him? Whether he would kiss me back? My fingers are tingling at just the thought of touching him.
"Ash?" He says again. "Will you come and watch us?"
I nervously swallow. It feels like my throat has been pulled shut. I blink. "Yes, I will come along Luke," I force out.
He takes a sip of his coffee and I can’t help myself. I watch his mouth, his lips as he drinks, his throat as he swallows. I really want to touch his lips. With my fingers, with my tongue, with my lips.

Kiss me.

His hand reaches out. His thumb hovers just in front of my cheek and for a second I think he will.
"Thank you," he says quietly, slowly pulling his hand back. "I really want you to be there."
∞

By the time Grandma died, my Grandad had been gone nine years. I know she missed him terribly, although she did continue to live her life, never wallowing in her sadness. She still lived up in Maine in that same old farmhouse, so I didn’t see her as often as I liked, although by the time I moved to Boston it was a little easier. Sometimes, she even came down and visited me and Sam.
I used to send her flowers every year on the anniversary of his death. I can’t remember exactly when I started doing it because I was only twelve when Grandad died, but whenever it was, I know why I started it. Guilt. Even if it was subconscious to begin with, maybe there was a part of me that always knew I’d been the reason he died. I don’t know. All I do know is that I sent them to her for years before it happened.
I always used the same florist and I always sent the same flowers. Red peonies, because at the time, I thought they were beautiful, the kind of thing she would like. Years later I learnt they can represent shame, but of course, at the time I didn’t know that.
Every time I sent them to her, she would always call me to say thank you and how sweet of me to remember and that honestly I didn’t need to keep sending them.
"It’s okay Grandma," I would always say back. "I want to."
"Thank you Asha, they are as always, beautiful my sweet girl."
If nothing else, it was a small piece of joy that I could give to her on a day that would otherwise be filled with bad memories. Then one year, when I was about twenty-one and living in Boston with Sam, I sent the flowers as I usually did and I didn’t get a phone call. I remember thinking it strange she hadn’t called me, but that maybe the florist had forgotten to send them. When I called to confirm the order had gone out, I was told yes they’d been delivered and the report also said they’d been received.
That afternoon when I called Grandma, I got no answer. I called my Dad then and asked if he knew if she was away or something.
"Not that I know of Ash, I was planning on going up there in a week or so and she never mentioned she would be away. I’ll try her tomorrow if you like and let you know."
"Okay Dad, thanks, please keep me posted alright?"
"Will do Ash, love you kiddo."
"Love you too Dad."
I was at work the next day when he called me back. I remember seeing his name light up on my cell and thinking to myself why would Dad call me and not Grandma? I don’t know why, but seeing his name there made me think the worst and when I answered the call, that’s exactly what it was.
I don’t remember everything Dad said except that he hadn’t been able to reach Grandma and he’d called her friend Marge and asked if she knew what was going on, whether Grandma was away. Marge had said no, she’d seen her the previous morning and everything was as normal. It was after that, my Dad got worried. He called the police and asked them to go and check on her. Apparently when they arrived Grandma was inside, collapsed on the floor. She was already dead by then and there was nothing the police or the paramedics could do when they got there. Nobody knew what had happened; I think initially they thought it was a heart attack.
It was only once they got to the hospital that they discovered she’d had an anaphylactic reaction. They found the cause, a wasp sting. We never even knew she was allergic to them, I don’t ever remember her saying anything about it, maybe even she didn’t realise. But when Dad arrived in Maine at her house all he found was a vase of spilled flowers on the floor, right next to where her body had been found.
It didn’t take much to work out where the wasp had come from and it took even less for me to work out whose fault it was.
I know I said I was a tiny bit happy at her now being reunited with my Grandad, but it still didn’t make the pain at what I’d done any easier to bear. After all, I’d been the reason they were separated in the first place. Being the reason why they were now together didn’t make that any more excusable.
∞

When I walk into work today, I find Luke out the front making coffee. When he looks up at me and smiles, it literally stops me in my tracks. All at once my stomach feels like it’s full of all those damn butterflies again, and they’re all simultaneously trying to escape. My heart is racing and my skin feels like it’s on fire. It shocks me, this sudden complicated reaction I have to a simple smile.
"Coffee Ash?" he asks.
I can’t talk. I literally can’t move.
"Ash?" he asks looking up at me. "Would you like a coffee?"
I shake my head, trying to get my brain to work. "Yeah thanks," I finally stammer out. "Ah, why are you making me coffee?"
He smiles again and now my stomach feels like it’s falling. I feel like I’m falling or floating or maybe even flying.
"I don’t know," he says shrugging. "Just thought I would make you coffee for a change."
He places a mug on the counter for me, stirring in a sugar. He’s made it black, just like his.
Oh shit I think to myself as though I’m seeing all of this for the very first time. It’s true. I really like him. I really do like him. And he knows, I know that he knows. God he knows how I drink my coffee now, that I drink it like he does. He knows, he knows everything.
"Can I make you some breakfast?" he asks me.
Does he not realise I’m standing here mute, dumbstruck, completely blown away by my sudden realisation? Does he not see what I’m thinking, how I feel about him now? His offer of food makes me think back to our little taste test the other day. Something hot flashes through me and I wonder if I can even remain standing at this point.
"Ash?" he asks again, coming over to me. "Is everything alright?"
He’s standing right in front of me now and all I can think is I want to kiss you so badly. I look up at him and force my brain to start working. "Yeah sorry, day dreaming," I say, attempting a smile and at the same time, wondering why I can’t just lean in and kiss him.
And then, smiling back at me, Luke reaches out his hand and I watch as he runs it over my hair, curling strands of it around his finger.

Kiss me.

His eyes are very dark now. They’re watching his fingers as he gently winds my hair around them. It looks as if he isn’t in control of his own hand, as if even he’s trying to work out what it’s doing. I’m watching his eyes and I’m positive he can hear my heart, which is racing, pounding inside my chest now.

Kiss me.

His eyes move to mine. We stand there just staring at each other, waiting for one of us to move.
Waiting.
Waiting for one of us to do something.

Kiss me.

He moves a tiny bit closer towards me and I feel my heart beat increase even more as I seem to unconsciously lean towards him. My stomach has fallen to the floor, my hands are shaking at my sides and my eyes drop to his mouth, focus on his lips. Both of us lean a fraction closer.

Kiss me. Please.

The phone ringing is what breaks us apart, shattering the tense silence that’s holding us in place, unable to move away from each other, but somehow unable to move that last bit closer together. Both of us turn to the counter.
"I should get that," I say, my words strained, breathless.
"Yeah," he agrees softly, his voice catching.
It keeps ringing and he slowly pulls his fingers from my hair, gently running them down my cheek as he does. A shiver runs down my spine in response and I want to lean into his touch. Luke doesn’t move away, just keeps watching me, a tiny smile on his face and I have to force myself to look away, force myself to walk over and answer the phone. My fingers are still shaking when I pick up the receiver, but whoever was calling is now gone.
∞

I had mixed feelings about Grandma’s funeral. Dad, Seth, Lara, Sam and I travelled together up to Maine to say goodbye to her. We were all upset, my Dad especially, but we were also in some small way, happy or something. Somehow it made it easier knowing she was now with Grandad again, the man who was the love of her life and we could all only smile at that thought. Plus it was a rare occasion I was with my family, with the four people I loved more than anything. I think that car ride up there was the last time I ever got to experience that.
In typical Grandma fashion, she’d taken care of everything. Planned her own funeral right down to the last detail, including the red peonies she wanted for it. The same flowers I would send her year after year.
"So typical of her," Dad said, a smile on his face. "She always did have to make sure everything was how she wanted it."
"Were these her favourites?" Lara asked, smelling the huge bunches of them that had just been delivered.
"I don’t know," Dad said. "I didn’t think she had a favourite."
I wanted to tell them no, they were the reason she was dead in the first place. That they were the flowers I used to send her every year because of my own guilt. But this year when I sent them to her, I’d also caused her death. I don’t know why Dad hadn’t put it all together, he’d seen the flowers that were spilt on the floor when he’d first come up here.
But it was Sam who spoke. It was Sam who said, "Yeah, she loved them." He smiled at me, pulling me into a hug where he whispered only to me, "It’s not your fault babe, you know that."
I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him even closer. I wanted to believe him, I really did. I didn’t say anything though, just smiled when he kissed me on the cheek and pressed against him as he put his mouth to my ear. Kissed his lips when he whispered that he loved me, he would always love me. I finally understood what Grandma had been talking about all those years ago.
∞

I’m locking up the shop late on Friday night, when I notice that Luke is still in the kitchen. I don’t know why I’m surprised, he always says goodbye to me when he leaves now, so I should know he’s still here. When I go in there, I discover he’s pulling out bowls and ingredients and actually looks as though he’s about to start cooking.
"What are you doing, shouldn’t you be packing up?" I ask him.
He looks up at me. "Oh hey Ash, nah I gotta get some things done tonight so I can take tomorrow off, big show remember?" he says smiling.
Yes, the big show tomorrow night. The one Luke nervously asked me to come and see the other day. I don’t know why this show’s any different from all of their others, but it must be a big deal if he’s taking a whole day off work to practice. It makes me think that maybe I shouldn’t go in case I mess it all up for them. But I know I’m kidding myself with that idea because I really want to go and I know in the end I will. He asked me to go, he wants to me to go. I want to go.
"So, you’re going to cook all night?" I ask him.
He smiles up at me, "Yep, for a couple of hours anyway. Do you wanna help me?"
I stand there looking at him. He’s turned back to the cupboard and is busy getting everything ready and doesn’t notice me staring at him. I should go. I should walk away and go home and leave him to it. Staying in here with just him will almost be too much. Staying in here with him and not touching him will be excruciating. I should go.
"Sure."
He looks up from the cupboard he’s crouched in front of, a tiny smile on his face. "Great," is all he says and something inside of me flips.
Everyone else has gone home, so I move away to finish closing up the shop, turning off all of the lights out front and making sure the door is locked. Suddenly, I realise I’m very nervous. I know I shouldn’t be, I’ve spent so much time with Luke before, a lot of it with no one else around. But deep down I know it’s because now, everything has changed. Now I’m allowing myself to feel things. Now I’ve admitted, at least to myself, how I feel about it all, and especially how I feel about him.
That he might possibly see all of that when he looks at me, that everything I feel is written all over my face. That’s what’s making me nervous.
When I come back into the kitchen I take a deep breath to try and calm myself down. Luke has put some music on and there are two open beers sitting on the bench. I put on the chef’s jacket he hands me. It’s miles too big and I realise it must belong to him. When he turns away I smell the fabric. Yes it’s Luke’s and it smells amazing, just like he does. It feels incredibly intimate to be wearing his clothing while we are both locked away in here. I don’t know if he’s noticing what he’s suddenly doing to me. I feel electric. The whole room feels electrified.
We’re standing in a lit kitchen at the back of a darkened shop. There is no one else here. No one else is going to come in for the rest of the night. Outside, life is going on as if we don’t exist. Inside, it is just the two of us. It’s just after nine o’clock on a Friday night.
We move about in silence for a while, the only sounds are Luke’s occasional instructions or his soft singing to the music that’s playing. It feels like my own private concert now and it’s so much better than listening to his CD. I savour it. I try not to mess anything up but I notice my hands won’t stop shaking. I think Luke sees it too. When he reaches for something, brushing past me as his hand lightly rests on my waist, I nearly drop the bowl I’m holding as a jolt of electricity shoots through me. I go to the cold room and get us a couple more beers just so I can breathe again. Inside I press my forehead against the back of the door like I’ve done so many times before, trying to cool myself down.
I need to cool down.
When I come back out, Luke has his back to me and I can see he is up to something. I put the beers on the bench and when he eventually turns around, he says entirely seriously, "So what do you think, a good look for tomorrow night?"
I look up at him and can see he has painted his face with flour, only he’s drawn on a nose and whiskers like the cat make-up the guy in Kiss used to wear.
I can’t help it, I burst out laughing. I don’t know if he’s done this to break the tension that I know we are both feeling. But when he looks at me with utmost sincerity as though he really wants my opinion on it, all I can think, is how hilarious he looks with a cat face on….in flour. He’s smiling at me now as he asks, "So maybe not then?"
I can’t stop laughing, it’s just so funny and so cute what he’s done. Tears are streaming down my cheeks now, but they are tears of laughter and although I can barely stand up straight, I feel so incredibly alive at this moment. I haven’t laughed like this in forever.
When I finally get myself under control, I look up and Luke is still standing there, looking at me now with a strange look on his adorable little cat face. Another giggle escapes me as I ask him, "What?"
"It’s really good to see you laugh like that," he says quietly.
I look at him, still smiling. "It feels good to do it again," I say honestly.
And there it is back again.
Electricity.
Tension.
Something.
I’m standing here, looking right at him.
He’s standing there, looking right at me.
We are both looking at only each other and suddenly, I notice just how close we’re standing.
He reaches out to brush the tears from my face, an action I have become so familiar with from him. Only this time the situation is different. This time he is not comforting me, I am actually happy. This time his touch sends tiny shivers all throughout my body. This time I smile and lean into his fingers. This time he takes a step closer, looking at me in a way I haven’t seen him do before. This time I reach my hand up to him, curl it around his neck, against the softness of his hair and pull him towards me, my other arm encircling his waist. This time I know exactly what’s going to happen when Luke’s hand slides into my hair and he takes another step, finally closing that distance between us.

This time Luke bends down and presses his lips to mine.
This time, Luke kisses me.
And this time, I kiss him back.
I am floating.
∞

"Tell me again Grandma!" I ask, wriggling further under the covers as she walked towards my bed.
"Again?" She says, a smile on her face. "Aren’t you sick of this story yet?"
"No!"
She sat down on the side of my bed, her hand gently brushing the hair back from my face. "Alright Ash, I’ll tell you again, then it’s time for sleep okay?"
"Okay."
Smiling, she began my favourite bedtime story. The one I never got tired of hearing, the one she told me over and over again, no matter how many times I asked, she always kept telling me. The story I adored, the story I wanted for my own.
"I first met your grandad when I was about nine years old. I guess I was about your age. He had just moved with his family to the house next door and I remember sitting on the front veranda watching the workers unpack their house. This took all day, but not once did I move because I wanted to watch all of their furniture spill from the truck and be taken inside. I liked to try and imagine where each item was going, to what room and where in that room it would be put. We had known the previous owners and I had been in the house many times. Then sometime in the afternoon, your grandfather walked up to our front porch bearing two glasses of lemonade. With a very serious look on his face, he handed one of the glasses to me and said, ‘this is for you, it’s thirsty work this move, so I thought you might need it,’ before he turned and walked back towards his house."
She is smiling now as she continues.
"I couldn’t believe it, a boy, a new neighbour was handing me a glass of lemonade! Of course that was only the beginning. The next morning he came and knocked on our door, asked if I would like to come and play. I did of course, I didn’t want to seem rude, but more than that I wanted to find out where all of their furniture had gone inside the house! Then a few weeks later when school started back, he came and he walked me to school. Every morning he’d do this and then every afternoon, he would walk me back home. This continued on for years and years, every morning he would be waiting on the front porch and every afternoon I would find him at the school gates. My girlfriends teased me mercilessly, but he never stopped and deep down I secretly enjoyed it. By the time we were sixteen and going to local dances he would ask if I would accompany him. I always said no, because young girls didn’t go out alone with young boys back in those days. But I did allow myself to dance with him, every time he asked. He asked at every dance, for every song. Then one day we suddenly found ourselves at nineteen and everything changed."
I could feel my eyes starting to shut as sleep pulled me in, but I fought to keep them open because I knew my favourite part was coming up.
"It was July, late in the afternoon and I was sitting on the front porch reading a book. There was music playing in the house and it was drifting out the windows because the air was still very warm and they were all open. The sun was just going down and I was thinking I would need to head in soon because all of the light from the day would soon be gone and I wouldn’t be able to see the words on the page. Just as I was standing up from the porch swing, from the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of your grandfather leaning against the car in his drive. I didn’t know it, but he had been watching me as I sat there reading. When I asked him this, he said yes and when I asked why, he simply said, ‘I was trying to work up the courage to come and ask you to dance.’ Oh well, I remember I blushed a furious shade of red then, my cheeks must have been as red as the setting sun in the sky. Eventually I managed to say, ‘what here?’ And at that, your grandfather pushed off the car and walked towards me. As he came up the steps to our porch, he didn’t once take his eyes off of me and as his arm went around my waist and he pulled me towards him, he simply said, ‘I would dance with you anywhere.’ And it was at that point that I fell in love with him, or maybe I just finally realised how much I had always been in love with him."
Grandma’s hand was on her heart now as she told me this part and even in the darkened room I could see the smile on her face, the glisten of happy tears in her eyes.
"And the rest Asha, as you know, is history."
I giggled then, loving the story, no matter how many times I heard it.
"Now time for sleep young lady," Grandma said, leaning over to kiss me goodnight. "Tomorrow we’ll have a proper bedtime story."
"No Grandma, this is my favourite," I remember saying.
She laughed then, because she knew she would be telling it to me again tomorrow night, before switching off the bedside lamp and whispering, "Alright then the same story tomorrow night. Sweet dreams my beautiful girl," and walking quietly out of my room.
I fell asleep floating into a land of happy endings, of my own prince charming and a love slowly creeping up on you when you least expected it, until one day whilst dancing on the front porch to music as the sun set slowly in the sky, colouring it brilliant shades of red and orange and gold, you finally realised, it had been there in front of you all along.