Lovesick (36 page)

I wrote out the paper for Lonnie but did not sign it straightaway. I told Lonnie that since the paper would not be legal unless it was notarized, he would have to take it to the bank. I called Shirley and told her to expect him.

“I know this is all a bit unusual,” I told her, “but I have been in a bad way ever since my accident. I am going to take a long vacation. I am certainly overdue for one. Lon and a friend will handle things here for me.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Vale,” she said. “Tell him to bring the signed paper over in the next day or two and I will handle it personally. And you have a nice trip. Do you know where you'll be going?”

“No idea at all,” I said. “Just someplace quiet. And peaceful.”

When I signed the paper, I handed it to Lonnie. “I want you to know one thing,” I said. “I am doing this because I love you. I have loved you from the moment I saw you. And I know that you may not understand it, but I am happy to give all that I have to you.”

In his eyes, I could see that same look I saw the day when he was trying to figure out the numbers for the prices of gas so he could put them on the sign in front of Joe Boggs's service station. I did not give him time to speak, time to react. I reached up and put my arms around his neck and pulled him close to me. “I do this for you,” I said, kissing him full on the mouth. I could feel the stubble of his beard on my face as I kissed him and he kissed me back, his lips full and firm against mine. And when I felt his hands tightening around my throat, I was not frightened at all, thrilled by the ecstasy of his kiss, telling myself only to “breathe out.”

Breathe.

Out.

7

So, now you know.

It was fairly simple, really. While Lonnie slept, I put one of my business cards into the Gideon Bible, which was in the drawer of the nightstand. Finally, a practical use for one of the damned things. I circled Psalm 94:6 in pen: “They slay the widow and the stranger, and murder the fatherless.” Around the margins of the page, I had written all our names: Roger's, Annabeth's, Sammy's, mine. On the back of the card I wrote:
You will find the murderers, Lonnie Flowers and Drexel Smith, at this address.

The media attention has been extreme as you may imagine given the nature and extent of the case. Articles entitled “Florist Killed by Flowers!” or TV segments called “A Deadly Arrangement” are not uncommon. These will undoubtedly provide many additional (and salacious) details not included here.

But as you read these articles or watch these programs and listen to the way they describe Lonnie and me, I want you to forget all the wretchedness and misery they try to inject into the story. What I hope you will remember is the softness of Lonnie's lips on mine, the sadness in his eyes, the strength of his grasp. For what I recalled in those last flashes of my life was the moment when I first saw Lonnie standing in front of the gas station, strong and simple and pure. Yes, pure. For in that moment, he held nothing for me but undiluted potential, was the unawakened dream, the eternal promise that is known simply as
before.

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Copyright © 2015 by James Driggers

 

“I Went to Your Wedding”
Words and Music by Jessie Mae Robinson
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eISBN-13: 978-1-61773-476-2
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