30 - Samantha
It’s Valentine’s Day. I have never really had many plans for Valentine’s Day in years past. Roxy and I usually split a tub of Baskin Robins and then have a movie marathon or something. Cynthia had plans with Knox last year since they’d been dating for a while, and of course they have plans this year. I’m not sure what they are going to do, but I can’t wonder about it. Cyn will share the details tomorrow whether I want them or not.
This year is my turn. I have plans with my incredible boyfriend who I love so much. I don’t even care if we go anywhere because I just enjoy spending time with him. It means more to me that he’s overjoyed with my company than if he buys me gifts from the store. Gifts are nice, but they can also be lost or broken or hold empty meanings. Someone who loves you and wants to be around you is what it’s all about.
Before I began dating Phillip, he once told me that he was willing to settle for proximity rather than lose me forever. He didn’t know if he should approach me, because it meant risking rejection and could possibly cause problems in the friendship I have with his sister. He didn’t want that. Phillip wanted to spend time with me too but didn’t know how to bring it up. Finally, the opportunity presented itself when our notebooks got mixed up. And now, we can’t be without each other. Spending time together and just being happy doing so and yearning for more time with one another is more precious than any gift that can be bought, in my opinion. I can’t imagine life without him.
“Where are you taking me?”
Phillip wants to surprise me and keeps me guessing the entire evening, but because I digest pasta the easiest, I figured out we’d be having Italian.
He reaches for my hand, enveloping it in his, and lifts it to his mouth to kiss my knuckles. “We’re going to the Bistro.”
My heart aches because it’s a charming Italian restaurant offering plenty of options that fit within my dietary restrictions. How can somebody ordinary like me be so lucky to have a guy like him?
After dinner, I think we’re going to head home for a movie or something when he takes the highway, heading in a different direction.
“Where are we headed now?”
He turns and smiles. “It’s a surprise.”
“Another one? This is too much.”
Phillip takes my hand and nudges me to come to the middle seat. I unfasten my belt and slide over, re-buckling my seatbelt and then he takes my hand. “Nothing is too much for my girl.” He kisses my knuckles and sets our hands in my lap, driving, thoughtfully looking out to the open road.
We end up in Birmingham where he tells me the museum is featuring a photography exhibit simply called Love, in recognition of Valentine’s Day, and this is his gift to me. He patiently walks through the gallery with me, pausing every time I need or want, giving me as much time to explore each picture. I’m awestruck at the images captured as they reach out and touch my soul.
“These are the kind of photographs I want to be capable of.” I continue, pointing out the ones I especially like. “I’d love to see mine on display like this someday.”
Phillip’s devilish smile showcases his strong jawline, and his eyebrows raise high above his eyes on his forehead. He suddenly seems triumphantly proud, but I can’t be sure why.
“What’s the look for?” My eyes narrow. Phillip’s up to something. He offers his arm for me to take it and I accept. “Is there another surprise? You’re acting funny.”
“Maybe someday could be today.”
We turn the corner to a section of the exhibit roped off by red velvet ropes and matching carpet. Then I notice a sign. It’s dedicated to new artists.
I can’t explain my reaction. There’s nothing rational about it, but suddenly I notice a lump in my throat. Phillip takes my hand, and we edge closer to some of the photographs on display. They’re stunning, but I have difficulty concentrating because there’s a group of people at the far end of the hall. My intention is to give each photograph its due time, to appreciate them all but even though it’s quiet in here, their whispers are still audible. Muffled as they are, it’s like the low buzzing from a nearby beehive and I must know what the commotion is all about. We step closer, drawing nearer to the hum. A kind couple steps to the side allowing me to have a better view and I can now make words out of the humming. Flawless, raw, bold, intimate, charming, and beautiful are just a few mentioned. Another person side steps. Phillip stands behind me with his hands on my shoulders and I gasp. Two hands are the focal point. One frail hand threaded with an IV is being held by the other, much stronger, masculine hand. Her thumb is tucked under his in this black and white still image. I know he always rubs her thumbnail because it’s soothing to her and soothing to him as well. I know this because it is our hands.
My eyes well up with tears, but I’m not sad. “How did...” I shake my head uncertain of my question. I whisper, “how did that get here?”
Phillip drops to rest his chin on my shoulder, sliding his arms around my middle, holding me. “Are you upset?” he asks, suddenly concerned. I shake my head no, but I’m so overwhelmed my voice escapes me. I make to turn as he straightens up, allowing me to face him, but he still has his arms around me. “It took some doing, but your dialysis takes a few hours and sometimes Cyn goes with you. Roxy let me look through your pictures and helped me pick one to submit. I was thrilled when they chose you for this feature. I’ve had to keep this a secret you know.”
I lean down to wipe under my eyes and pull myself together. My photograph is in a gallery. I close my eyes. “Pinch me.”
“I won’t pinch you.” Phillip stoops down and kisses my forehead. “It’s real. Please open your eyes and enjoy this with me.”
He’s right. The moment is now. This is our now. Just like in the hospital, I wanted a picture of him being there with me. However, we didn’t exactly want to just take a selfie since it wasn’t a real happy occasion. Instead, I came up with the idea to snap a picture of our hands together. After all, he was there to take care of me.
Now I’m in a gallery, seeing my photograph on display for others to see. I get to watch and listen to the people while they look at it. And I have Phillip to thank for that. He’s so amazing.
“Thank you,” I whisper and he nods, turning me around for another look at my display.
He stands behind me, wraps his arms around me and dips his head to my ear. “Anything for you, Wallflower.”