A Merman's Tale

Fates: Chapter Twenty-Six

      She began to make her way towards the bunch of white flowers to begin picking the stems that she would include in my bouquets. She picked three lilies and six roses then went to the cluster of baby’s breath which will serve as accents to the main flowers of the bouquet. I watched her the entire time as we made small talk about the weather.

       As she placed the flowers on her arrangement table behind the counter, she suddenly lifted her head and faced me, as if she just remembered something quite interesting.

      “You know, I just remembered that I arranged these same set of bouquets about an hour ago. He said he was visiting some people’s graves.” She placed her fingers under her chin and stared right into my eyes. “It’s odd ‘cause I don’t usually arrange this many sympathy bouquets in one morning—especially when I don’t remember anyone dying on this particular day.”

      I nodded in agreement. “It’s also weird that we chose the same set of flowers.”

      “Exactly, my dear. Do you know anyone who might visit your parents and grandfather today?” she asked before she got back to her task at hand.

      I paused for a few seconds to recall if anyone would indeed visit. “Nope. None. The people who knew my parents and Grampa had stopped coming since last week.”

      She nodded. “Perhaps he’s visiting someone else.”

      “I guess.”

       We went on to talk about flowers, her family and my life until the last bouquet had been finished. She didn’t use cellophane or paper to bind the flowers together but decided to wrap the stems in wide, blue satin ribbons. It looked very elegant in my opinion.

      “I hope you don’t mind that I did a different arrangement this time,” Mrs. Blanchard said, giving the bouquets over to me.

      “Oh, no. I don’t. They’re beautiful, really. Thanks,” I assured her.

      “Well, then. I hope your family likes it too.”

      “I’m sure they would.”

      I paid for the flowers and then thanked the flower lady again before leaving the shop. It seemed that everything was going differently today and I felt more lighthearted as I took the bus to the cemetery. I even smiled at the driver as I got off at the bus stop.

      The moment I crossed the arc that welcomed the visitors to St. James Cemetery, I knew that something strange was going to happen. The clouds began to cover the sun, the wind began to blow and a shiver ran up my back to my neck. It felt like something that had happened to me before. I glanced around but found nothing wrong with my surroundings so I just shrugged and continued towards my parents’ graves.  

      I saw the flowers even from a few meters away.

      My feet started moving faster, recognizing the same arrangements as the ones I held in my hands. Heart beating furiously against my chest, I stopped in front of my parents’ tombstones and stared at the neatly placed bouquets of white roses in front of me.

      There was a chance that my instincts were wrong but my frantic heartbeat was telling me that they were from the guy who bought the bouquets from Mrs. Blanchard.

      “Who could he be?” I whispered in wonder.

       And then I realized that there was another set of bouquet that I had not seen yet. I immediately turned towards the direction of Grampa’s grave but it was behind a huge acacia tree and if there was anyone there, I couldn’t see him from where I was standing. Without thinking any further, I placed the roses I held beside the bouquets that were already there then began walking nervously to where Grampa’s burial place was. My reaction was weird in my opinion but seeing those bouquets had made me feel that I needed to see the person who brought them.

      When I was only about two meters away, I tried to keep my steps as quiet as possible for reasons that I couldn’t quite understand. I reached the acacia tree then paused to take a breath.

      There’s no reason to be nervous, Marge, I thought to myself.

      I took that precious step and found him standing not far from me, in front of the tombstone. He was wearing a black polo shirt and jeans. His back felt familiar to me but no matter how much I dug into my memory, I couldn’t recall anyone I knew who was as tall as he was.

      Perhaps he’s someone whose memory I’ve lost.

      That thought made me even more anxious but my curiosity got piqued and somehow, I needed to know who he was. I took a slow step, and then another until I was standing right beside him. I had seen him stiffen even before he could see me in his peripheral view; I took no effort to walk quietly and he must have heard the dried leaves crunching under my feet as I stepped on them.

      The mysterious guy was wearing sunglasses and all I could make out from his face was a strong jaw and high cheekbones. His hair was dark brown and yet again, I wondered if I had seen him before.

      “Hi,” I began as casually as I could, considering how anxious I was. “Are you a friend of Grampa’s?”

      He didn’t answer right away but he turned towards me and I felt like his eyes were scrutinizing me from behind his sunglasses. I swallowed and tried my best not to let him know in any way that his silence was unnerving.

      “Yes,” he finally answered. His voice was deep and husky but despite the short response, he sounded almost like he sang it. “I knew him quite some time ago.”

      “I see.” I nodded and looked towards Grampa’s tombstone. It was difficult to keep looking at him without actually seeing his eyes. And the only way I could hide mine from his gaze was to look away. I leaned down to place the identical bouquet in front of us. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Margaret. His adopted granddaughter.”

      I had to face him again to shake his hand. He seemed reluctant to let go after the handshake but since I couldn’t see his eyes, I couldn’t be very sure.

      “I know,” the mysterious guy replied.

      I hadn’t expected his answer so instead of my plan not to continue looking at him, I ended up staring at his sunglasses. “You do? But I don’t think I remember you.”

       He just smiled at me in response and I fought the urge to shake him and force him to tell me how he knew about me. I knew that doing that to a stranger was rude and I settled for a smile back at him.

      We were silent for a moment and then he sighed. “I’m sorry but I have to go now, Margaret.” The way he said my name was so gentle yet its impact made me momentarily breathless that I barely heard him saying, “It’s nice seeing you again.”

       I knew it was only proper to nod or say goodbye but I had no idea if I did any of that before he turned his back to walk way from me. His voice kept ringing in my head until his back disappeared from my view.