The Proposal

She is going to be so surprised.

The ring in my pants pocket makes an uncomfortable bulge. I turn onto her street, and turn off my headlights as I drive past her house. I park the car down the street, out of sight. I really don’t want her to see it and be spoiled. I check my mirrors and look out the windows all around the car to make sure no one can see me. I don’t want one of her nosy neighbors to spot me and call her before I surprise her.  

I pick up the bouquet of roses I’ve brought and I walk back the few blocks to her house carefully avoiding the pools of streetlights as I go. She really does have nosy neighbors. I just can’t afford to have one of them tip her off tonight.  

I approach her house and hide myself in her high well-trimmed hedge. She has a beautiful house. But not as beautiful as her, of course. She is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. 

I still remember the first time I saw her. I was shopping at the grocery store, and there she was – picking out produce. She was luminous. I was smitten from the first minute. The first second. I really am a lucky guy.

I peek over the hedge at the house and notice all of the windows are dark. Perfect. She’s not home. That gives me a chance to sneak in first and prepare. I want everything to be perfect.  

Keeping to the cover of darkness, I sneak up to the house. The porch light is on, so I can’t go to the front door. Again, those pesky neighbors. Instead, I go around to the back door and try it. Locked. I sigh in frustration. She hasn’t given me a key yet, even though I’ve hinted several times that I’d like one. That’s okay, though. After tonight we’ll be together forever, and keys won’t matter.  

I look up and see a half-open window on the second floor. She loves her fresh air. There’s a lovely lattice on the side of her house covered with ivy. She loves to garden. I’m not much of a gardener myself, but I love to watch her garden. She always wears a huge straw hat to shade her delicate skin from the sun. She ties her hair back in a ponytail, but one persistent strand always sneaks out and hangs down as she works. She’ll tuck it behind her ear, only to have it escape again a moment later.  

I put the bouquet of roses in my teeth, and begin to scale the lattice up to the window. I feel like Romeo. The balcony scene’s famous lines run through my head and I have a moment of insanity where I almost project them at the top of my lungs as I hang there outside her back window. I love her so much and I want to shout it from the rooftops. I really want the world to know. And, of course, after tonight, they all will.

The window is easy to open and I crawl through it into her bedroom. Her bedroom is immaculate. She is a bit of a neat freak, but I love her all the more for it. I get right to work and start to tear the petals off of the roses and scatter them all over the bed. Once I’m done the bed, I scatter some more along the floor leading to her bedroom door. I hope she doesn’t mind the mess, what with her cleaning obsessiveness, but I don’t think she’ll mind in this case.  

I quietly open her door and peek out. The house is dark and silent. I tiptoe out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom. I open the cupboard under the sink and – aha! – find some candles. Just what I was looking for. She loves to take long baths with candles. I take all of the candles I can find and a lighter and pad back to the bedroom. I set them up all around the bed. 

There’s one last thing to prepare, so I quietly steal downstairs to the kitchen and get what I need from there. I take what I find back upstairs, and look over my preparations. Perfect. Romantic and perfect. Exactly the way I had imagined it in my head. I reach down and pat the bulge in my pants pocket. The ring is still there, just waiting for the right moment.  

I sit down in a chair and wait for her to come home. I practice my speech over and over. I’ve been preparing for this night for weeks now and I can’t believe it’s finally here. I’m halfway through my third time through when I hear her car pull into the driveway. This is it. Showtime.  

I hide behind her curtain. When I planned this night in my head, I decided that I want her to see my preparations and then turn to find me. I think that’ll have the maximum surprise impact.  

I hear her key turn in the door and I can feel my heartbeat quicken. My breathing gets faster as I become more and more excited. I reach up carefully, trying not to disturb the curtain, to wipe away sweat that has begun to drip down my face.  

I hear her enter and close the door behind her. I listen carefully and can imagine what she’s doing with each new noise; putting her keys in the dish, taking off her shoes, hanging up her coat. Heavily she ascends the steps. Based on how heavy she’s taking the stairs, I can tell she’s tired. But she won’t be when she gets to her bedroom. I hold my breath in anticipation.

I hear the bedroom door creak open, and a quick intake of breath. She’s noticed the rose petals on the floor. I hear the door gets pushed further open, and she takes a few tentative steps into the room.  

“What the hell--?,” she asks herself. I can see her shape through the curtain I’m standing behind. I can tell she’s tense and confused. I quietly slip out from my hiding place and come up behind her.

“Hello, my love,” I whisper in her ear.

I see her visibly relax as she turns to me. “Ted, you scared the hell out of—”, she says, and freezes as she looks up at my face. She lets out an ear-splitting shriek just as I slide the kitchen knife into the softness of her belly. It enters her like a lover, like I’ve always wished to be. Her blood gushes out over my hands, over her hands, down our legs, twisting, entwining.  

I hold the back of her head and look deeply into her eyes as I plunge the knife again and again, out and in, out and in. She lets out a gurgling sound as blood gushes from her mouth. I gently lay her on the bed where the red of her blood mixes with the red rose petals. The blood slowly spreads over the white bedspread, eclipsing the petals and making them disappear.  

She gasps shallowly. “My love,” I begin. “I know in the past you’ve shunned me. I know you’ve expressed disgust and revulsion for me. But deep down, I’m certain that you love me as much as I love you. Here, on your bed, our life blood will mix and our union will be permanent. The world will find us, and all will know that we are together, just as we were always meant to be. Two hearts pumping blood as one. Please, my love, be mine. Be mine forever.” I dig into my pocket and fish out the ring box. I open it to reveal the ring that I bought, decorated with two entwined hearts. I slip it onto her delicate finger. She looks up with me, her eyes wide. She cannot speak, but I’m sure it’s because she is overwhelmed with the emotion of the moment. 

I slip the knife from where it protrudes from her belly, only to be met with a fresh fountain of love. I put my hands in it, bathe in it, rub it all over my face and body. Then I lovingly take the knife and slit my wrists with it. First one, and then the other. I cut them lengthwise down my arm, rather then across, so more of my love will flow out. I also plunge it into and out of my belly. My blood gushes out over her body. I bathe her in it, her body, her breasts, her face. She has stopped moving now. I will be with her shortly.  

Lastly, I run the knife across my neck. I feel my life slipping away. Quickly, I climb onto the bed next to her, and interlace my limbs with hers. Now we are as one. I see her just ahead of me, smiling, beckoning me to join her. I run to her eternal embrace, finally.