Aaron reached into the pocket of the red dress.
He pulled out something small, flattened, and carefully wrapped in tissue paper.
The laughter continued for several more seconds.
Then he unfolded it.
The moment I saw what was inside, the auditorium disappeared.
It was a dried yellow daisy.
One petal was missing.
The stem had darkened with age, and the flower had been pressed nearly flat.
But I knew exactly where it came from.
I covered my mouth.
“Oh, Aaron.”
Suddenly, I was back months earlier.
Mary had still been strong enough to leave the hospital for a few hours.
She had spent the previous week complaining about hospital walls, hospital food, and everyone treating her like she might break.
She wanted to do something normal.
So I took her shopping.
Graduation was still months away, but Mary had made me promise we would find her dress.
“No depressing colors,” she told me as we entered the store.
“You haven’t even looked yet.”
“I already know.”
She headed straight toward the racks.
Aaron came with us, pretending he was bored.
Mary tried three dresses before finding the red one.
The moment she stepped out of the fitting room, she smiled.
Not the tired smile she gave doctors and worried relatives.
Her real smile.
She spun in front of the mirror.
“This one.”
Aaron laughed.
“You look like a fire alarm.”
Mary threw a price tag at him.
“You have no taste.”
We bought the dress.
On the way back to the hospital, Mary asked me to stop near the small garden beside the entrance.
Yellow daisies grew along the walkway.
She bent down and picked one.
I told her she probably wasn’t supposed to.
She grinned.
“Arrest me.”
Later, from her hospital bed, she slipped the flower into a book.
I had completely forgotten about it.
Until now.
Aaron held that same flower in his palm.
My hands began trembling.
“Where did you get this?”
He looked down.
“Mary gave it to me.”
I stared at him.
