Love Me, Love Me Not

TW: Mental health, mention of sex

“Oh crap,” I whisper as the morning sun’s rays come pouring into the large bay windows of my room, piercing my eyeballs with so much light that I could feel my irises sweat.

Geez, why is the sun up so high, so early. Damn it, it’s February in bloody Barnet. Shouldn’t I still be waking up to a jet black sky littered with twinkling stars at six in the morning? Why has the cool, chilly breeze blowing from the Arctic that has caressed me for the past couple of months been replaced by the burning lasers from hell? Ugh, climate change, of all the days for you to rear your ugly head….

Right, it’s tonight!

I practically do a pirouette off the bed, as I reach for the tall walnut doors of my closet. I see my favourite black leather mini-dress, the one that hugs all my curves in all the right places and shows off my tight bum, and take it out. I grab my fire engine red Jimmy Choo pumps and smile as I imagine just how fit I’d look in them later once the clock strikes 6 P.M. I search for a small drawer hidden at the very back of the closet and with trembling fingers, retrieve a small black box. I can’t help lifting the lid, just as have a million times already, and beaming as I see a platinum band with a bezel-set diamond sparkling in the centre.

Tonight, I will ask my sweet Simon to marry me.

I know what you’re thinking. “Oooh, Amy, why are you the one doing the proposing? Shouldn’t it be the man asking you to be his wife?”

For Christ’s sakes, it’s 2024. Do you all still believe that marriage proposals are the sole territory of men, that the male species should have sole power in a romantic relationship? Besides, Simon is a very timid type; he’s the sort of man who not only minces his words when requesting for something, but practically purées them, afraid of causing offense to others --- especially when it comes to me, the love of his life. It’s just right that I --- the more assertive one, the one that brings my beloved out of his shell --- am the one asking my Simon to be my husband.

I mean, yes, it’s always been me taking the initiative to take the steps first in the five-year relationship; it’s true. However, whenever it is him summoning his courage to move the relationship along, goodness is it special.

You should know how I felt when I first received a card from Simon, the one where he bared his romantic feelings towards me. Six years ago, I moved from my landed family’s country manor to London. Yeah, at first, I detested the move; it wasn’t my choice after all. However, all that hate dissipated when I saw who my next-door neighbour was: handsome, golden-haired, blue-eyed Simon. Geez, you should have also seen how hard and how fast I fell for him when I first glanced at him cooking from my bedroom window; it was like I was free-falling to the molten core of the Earth.

Anyway, from that time on, I started dressing up in tighter and tighter outfits in order to impress Simon. Did you know that he scared me at first by not saying anything about my mini-skirts and corset tops? Yeah, Simon didn’t say a word about me looking fit, and so I resigned myself to thinking that he’s gay (I mean, why else would he be wordless about my sexy clothing?). Imagine my surprise when one day, I saw a Valentine’s Day card at my doorstep, and on the inside was….oh yes, Simon’s fluid penmanship declaring that he’s always secretly loved me and that whenever he’s near me, he feels home. How cute is that! I think the only caveat is that he called me “My sunshine” throughout the card. Yuck! Sunshine?! Oh well.

You should know how it feels every single time my Simon drives me to the hospital. Unfortunately, yes, my parents in the country had begged me to come see some Doctor Isobel Ravenscroft weekly (Well, more like threatened me. If I don’t see her, I’m off the will apparently. Ugh, annoying.). Anyway, my knight in armour decided to take me to her clinic in his blue Toyota so he could use the drive to spend more time with me. Isn’t that sweet? My Simon and I talk about everything under the sun in that car…well, that is if I can even manage to speak without stuttering whenever I see his blond curls and those cornflower eyes. Teehee! I swear that car is my favourite place…no, it’s actually my second favourite place on Earth.

What is my favourite place on Earth then? Why, his office! You should see how whenever I visit Simon at work, he wants to make love to me. Every single time it’s just the two of us in that enclosed space with his work computer on the desk, he just has to touch my chest. Of course, he has to be discreet about it; what if someone discovers us, after all. I swear, though, when his hand is on my left breast, I could feel those blue eyes boring right through my clothes and undressing me. Geez, if I had my way, I’d clear off that work desk of his; I’d strip him down naked, and he’d plunge into me right then and there. However, I know that Simon is one of those types that wants to save himself for marriage; that’s the only reason I haven’t slept with him yet. Once I slip that wedding ring on his finger, though, ooh! Well, I have always wanted four children minimum, so he’ll definitely have to make up for it. Teehee!

So, it’s settled. I’d slip on my leather number and red hot stilettos before dolling myself up tonight. I’ll be cooking my famous roast chicken, the one that will surely be hit with Simon and the four or more offspring that will bear his face, and we’ll have dinner at my place. I will thank him for loving me before I kneel down on one knee. I will watch as his beautiful blue eyes fill with tears as I slip on that diamond ring on his fingers.

Geez, I’m so excited! Mrs. Amy Gardiner, how lovely it sounds!

****************

“How perfect,” I exclaim at the unusually sunny February afternoon sky.

It’s 14 degrees Celsius, just as I had fervently wished it would be today of all days. From this bench in the middle of Green Park, I could see that the yellow flowers that I’ve always loved whenever I come to visit are starting to bud. However, all this beauty pales in comparison when I see the loveliest thing in yellow I’ve ever seen walk towards me, a bright smile on her delicate face.

“My perfect flower,” I state, beaming at my lovely Isobel in an ethereal, marigold chiffon number. I hand her a bouquet of sunflowers wrapped in gold wrapping paper and tied with a silk ribbon the same colour as her dress.

“Sweetheart! You shouldn’t have,” she replies, her beautiful jade green eyes sparkling in surprise.

I cup her face as I kiss her slowly, her delightful citrusy perfume filling my nose from up close. Isobel responds by pressing her soft lips to mine.

God, how did I get so lucky?

When I picked up a lost medical textbook left on a bench here in Green Park eight years ago, who knew my life would change forever for the better? Yet that’s exactly what happened when I handed it back to the beautiful redhead who’d been walking around the green for fifteen minutes at the time trying to locate it. I must admit, I was instantly smitten with her. However, when I saw her the next day at the medical school library and she introduced me to her mates as a "new friend", I accepted it, albeit with my heart slightly breaking.

“Hey, if that’s what she wants, don’t pressure her,” I thought. “Don’t be a sleaze.”

Well, eventually, what she wanted transformed into wanting a romance with me. The night before Valentine’s Day five years ago, whilst we were out to dinner at our favourite Italian joint, Isobel got called to the stage by the band performing. I was surprised when she rose up, confidently took the microphone…and stated that the song she was about to sing was dedicated to me. I gasped as her melodious voice filled the restaurant with Roberta Flack’s “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face”. She didn’t see it from onstage, but happy tears filled my eyes; she was singing that lovely melody…for me. For me, of all people!

After her performance, I tried to approach her. My mind whirred with glee as it tried to come up with the best way to confess to her the feelings I still held after three years of knowing her.

“Oh my! Does she know I’m still in love with her,” I asked myself as I took those giant steps towards the stage. However, by the time I reached the front, she was gone.

My heart shattered. Of course, as a cardiologist, I knew that was technically impossible. However, her sudden disappearance felt to me as if fate had literally punched inside me, grabbed my heart, and tore it a million pieces.

I strained to think of a way to tell her my heart was still hers until I remembered a conversation we had a year ago whilst having a picnic at Green Park where she told me she saved every single greeting card she received since childhood and put it in a special chest. I quickly ran to the nearest bookstore, paid for the cutest looking Valentine’s Day card I could find, bought another one because I lost that first one on the way to the hospital (Oof!), and slipped it under the door of Isobel’s clinic. The entire day, I was wondering what her response was, knees shaking in nervousness. Then, at three in the afternoon, I got the answer I was waiting for when she leapt into my arms and kissed me.

The rest was history…and so now, it’s time to mark another milestone in the story of us. I form my hand into a subtle thumbs-up pose. Immediately, the band I’ve hired for today, the very same one from the night Isobel serenaded me, comes out of their hiding spot.

The first time ever I saw your face

I thought the sun rose in your eyes

And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave

To the dark and endless skies, my love

"My sweetheart, what’s going on?”

I take a deep breath as I reach into the pocket of my jacket to get the small, golden velvet box I’ve kept hidden the entire afternoon. With tears in my eyes, I stare into Isobel’s sparkling green eyes whilst I kneel down on one knee and open the box to reveal an emerald-cut halo diamond ring.

“Isobel, the world knows you as a brilliant doctor, but I feel privileged to know the radiant, amazing person you are. You are my inspiration, my light, my best friend, and the love of my life,” I begin.

“Oh my! Sweetheart, is this what I think it is?”

“Dr. Isobel Caroline Ravenscroft, will you do me the honour of having you as my wife?”

From here, I see her green eyes fill with her own set of fresh tears. She then kneels down and presses her lips on mine.

“Oh, my sweet Simon. Yes, absolutely yes!”

I slip on the engagement ring on the love of life’s hand to the cheers of the band, as well as the passers-by at the park.

"Dr. Simon Gardiner and Dr. Isobel Ravenscroft-Gardiner, I really like the sound of it, you know," states Isobel, a cheeky smile on her delicate face.

"That's just perfect, my sunshine," I exclaim to my my brand-new fiancée. Fiancée!

"You know who's perfect, though,?"

"Who's that?"

"You," she replies, giving me a quick peck.

“Shall we go to my place for dinner?"

“That would be lovely, sweetheart."

On the drive home, I feel my heart leap, as it’s always done when I’m near my sunshine Isobel, as we talk about the future that has just started for us both. As we get out of the car, we can’t help noticing the smell of rosemary, thyme, and crispy chicken skin from the house next to us.

“Oh wow, looks like your neighbour is cooking up a storm. Whoever is devouring that roast chicken is lucky.”

“Oh you’re right,” I respond to my fiancée. “Looks like Amy Bolton has finally found someone special to bust out her chef skills for.”

Isobel’s eyes light up at the mention of our common patient.

“That's great! I guess when I see her next week, she's going to come in all sunshiny and well. Do you happen to know who the lucky guy is?"

“I have no idea, my sunshine. Sorry. You know, I only see her when she has check-ups with me, plus, of course, whenever you ask me to drive her to the hospital so she wouldn’t miss her psychiatric appointments with you. But, it would be great to see her finally happy and content."

“Of course. Poor thing, though. Having to be confined to the Nightingale Hospital two years ago after a psychiatric breakdown. I know it has to be tough on her, her erotomania. I’m glad she’s better, though.”