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.
“What?”
The mothers beside me had stopped giggling.
So had the students nearby.
Aaron carefully unfolded another piece of tissue paper.
Beneath it was a small note.
My daughter’s handwriting covered the page.
I recognized it immediately.
Aaron’s voice trembled.
“She gave this to me three days before she died.”
I looked at him.
“You never told me.”
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