On the Simplicity of Words

I buried my intent deep under layers of guile, but over the next few days I began placing the orders for the various things I needed. I got everything delivered to my workplace, and begged a locker off our sympathetic office manager who, alone amongst everyone, I'd let in on my plans because I knew he'd been to Morocco the year before.

He made a number of fantastic suggestions, then flushed scarlet as I hugged him in a complete departure from my normal character.

Finally, I had everything I needed.

Lea had a busy week, and had been asked to attend a late meeting in person. It was my chance. I made my way in to the office, confessed to my boss, told him I needed the day and why I needed it, and was given an amused "fuck off and don't come back unless she says yes."

I retrieved my packages and waited for the taxi to arrive.

.:.

I pushed the couch back against the wall, and moved our coffee table to the middle of the floor.

I unrolled the wafts of burgundy, violet, indigo and red fabrics and began tacking them to the roof; it took some time to work out how to secure them properly but I figured it out and began to construct a tent of cascading fabric that fell in gentle waves. I knew that the dim light of evening would soften the roughness and lend to the illusion, and I was happy that the effect would be as I wanted it to be.

I wove the fairy lights in the space above the coffee table, and tied their battery box to the room's central light fitting.

I covered the coffee table itself with a length of scarlet cloth, embroidered with silver Arabesques.

I scattered petals of pink Damascus rose over and around it.

And I placed the small Moroccan-style lamp dead centre.

I closed the curtains and conducted a lighting test, and it was everything that I'd hoped it would be - a small oasis of light and colour, with the falls of cloth screening us from the rest of the world.

After that, I just had to make the meal I wanted to prepare for her.

.:.

Nearly home. Be there in ten minutes

See you now xxx I replied, blessing the fact that a text would not betray the stress I felt.

I smoothed my dress in a helpless gesture of nerves, and quickly lit the candles on the kitchen counter and in the lantern. I cracked a window so the smoke would escape. I checked the food in the oven, it still had half an hour to go. Plenty of time.

I opened a bottle of her favourite red, and poured us both a glass. I took a nervous gulp of mine.

I was terrified.

I took a breath. I pressed my hands to my cheeks, opened the window wider, took some deep gulps of fresh air.

I lit the tee-light candles on the window sills.

I dimmed the lights and lit the fairy lights.

I turned up the soft soundtrack I'd set up on my phone, the selection of tracks that had felt appropriate for this moment with her.

And even I had to admit that I'd done a good job.

I closed my eyes, counted to ten.

I heard her footsteps on the stairs, the soft footfalls as she approached our door.

I took my place, and fought for calm. I touched my hair to make sure it was still in place.

She opened the door, then froze on the threshold.

"Rosie?" she whispered. "What on earth..."

I reached out, pulled her to me, kissed her, and hugged her hard. I took her backpack from her slack hand and gently dropped it beside the doorway. I pushed the door closed behind her, kissed her again. I took her coat off her and hung it, and then led her to the space I'd made for us. I helped her sit on the pillow I'd placed for her.

And through all this she stared at the flat, at the candles, the colours, the lights... and at me.

"Rosie," she said, lower lip trembling in her classic tell. "What's going on? What is this?"

"I'm setting the scene," I whispered in her ear. "For when we go away. You always cook for me. You do everything for me. I wanted to do something special for you."

I passed her her glass of wine, then came and sat cross-legged beside her.

"I tell you a lot how much you mean to me," I told her. "But... words are cheap. Actions say what a million words cannot."

"You did all this... for me?"

"Yes."

"Oh, Rosie," she whispered. "What did I ever do to deserve you."

"You took my hand and showed me where the pony drawing book was."

She laughed, a strange little half-sob, and she turned away for a moment so she could catch her breath.

I drank my glass of wine beside her, and slowly she unwound.

I served her her meal and ate mine beside her, and told her of the research I'd been doing on our potential city break, the things we'd need to do to be safe, the choices we'd have to make about where to go and what to do when we got there, and that if we took a slightly longer break then we could do a trip into the desert and see the North African stars.

She leaned her head against me, not saying much, just breathing. Her eyes were dark pools of liquid night, her breath gentle, her hand warm where it curled on my thigh.

Sometimes she'd smile, and sometimes I'd reach up to gently wipe away her tears.

My Lea.

My light, my shadow, my soul.

The very best part of me.

She got up once to go to the loo and wash her face, and I quickly scrabbled up the small black bag from inside the coffee table's topmost drawer.

I hid it in the shadows of my lap, and waited, aching, until she'd settled herself back down beside me.

"Lea," I quavered, softly, my heart pounding hard in my chest.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Close your eyes."

"No more, Rosie, please," she gulped. "No more. You've spoiled me so much already. I'm going to blub if you don't stop..."

"Close your eyes," I begged once more, as I leaned in to brush my lips against her cheeks.

She took a shuddering breath and complied. I fumbled the ring into my shaking hand. "Don't peek," I whispered. I took her left hand, kissed it, then slowly slipped the cool metal of the ring onto her ring finger.

She let out a low moan - something primal, something raw and unfiltered.

She opened her eyes, stared at her hand, then up at me. Her mouth worked, but no further sound came out.

"Will you marry me, Lea Fergusson?" I somehow managed to gasp. "Will you be mine from now until forever?"

She shuddered, once.

She pulled me to her.

She kissed me.

"Yes," was the single simple word she sobbed in answer.

And there, in the gentle candlelight, I kissed my love's tears away.

And, at last, we were whole.

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