Quiet, part 2

"Will Miles," said Daisy, sitting in the very back row of the first
baptist church. She waved slightly and pointed at what appeared to be
the only free seat in the room, "Will," she called again, making sure I
had heard her the first time.

I stumbled through an elderly couple whom had refused to move their legs
to allow me to pass freely through the aisle. She sat calmly, but
smiling as I moved next to her. Immediately her left hand found my right
leg and her right arm went around me in one of the more awkward hugs I
had ever been a part of. She was definitely much more pretty than I had
remembered, and she happened to be very pretty in high school: wearing
jeans and a faded tee shirt that actually hugged her small frame, she
had a very large silver necklace and cross hanging from her thin neck.
Typical Daisy.

"Thanks for the seat," I said, smiling slightly embarrassed from the
hug.

"William Miles, it has been too long," she said softly.

"Yes it has," I answered, wanting to add that it had been since May 30th
and now it was nearly Christmas, meaning that would make it nearly six
months since we had last seen the other.

She kept her hand on my leg and turned her attention from me to the
children singing Christmas songs on the stage of the church, and then
back to me.

"How was your semester," she asked, not looking at me, but paying her
attention to the stage. Every time she spoke it was just soft enough to
not bother anyone else in the full room.

It was okay," I lied, honestly thinking it was a blessing that I had
survived without dropping out of the school before the holidays, "I'm
actually transferring next semester."

"Transferring," she asked.

"Yes," I spoke, "turns out I made a poor choice when choosing schools,"
I quickly stopped speaking and turned my eyes and attention to the
children singing. She had always had the ability to completely steal you
away with her conversation, and I wasn't in the mood to speak freely
about my life during the past six months to a girl who I could have
considered a complete stranger, if not for the fact that I had known her
nearly nine years.

"Have you eaten," she asked, changing the subject for me.

"Not yet, no."

"You want to skip out of here and get some dinner," she asked, motioning
with the hand that wasn't on my leg towards the doors in the back.

"Yes," I answered, standing and leading her through the aisle and out of
the church.

Outside the night had fully set in with several stars overhead and a
chill lingering from the afternoon shower. She shook slightly in her tee
shirt.

"Take my jacket," I said, sliding out of mine and handing it over to
her.

"Thanks Will," she coughed from the cold air.

"Do you want to meet at the diner," I asked.

"I actually walked here," she replied, which shocked me, since it was a
little over a mile from her dad's apartment to the church. She didn't
ask for me to drive, but sort of twirled under the stars, holding the
bottom of my jacket out to her sides, as if it were a cape.

"How about I drive us?"

"That'd be nice," she smiled, taking my arm and pulling me close to her
as we walked towards my car, "aren't you cold?"

We drove to the diner and found a seat in the very back, close to the
jukebox and waitress' entrance. It had been everyone's favorite lunch
place when we were in high school, and was probably still very popular
among those still living in town. My concern for health was always
forgotten there, as most of their food was deep fried; nearly always to
a crisp. It was so bad that you always left the diner smelling as if it
were you that had actually been deep fried and not the food. She was
very lively throughout dinner and never mentioned our lack of
communication or friendship throughout junior high school or high
school, or even between the months of graduating and that exact moment.
She didn't care; she just spoke and told stories and hardly touched her
burger and fries as she wildly described her first semester experiences.


Watching her speak and eating my own food, I couldn't help but wonder
how I could have ever hated this girl; she had beautiful deep, green
eyes and she spoke so well, in this voice that seemed so sad, yet very
distracted, but also very sincere. She had this new opportunistic view
on life and though my mind was confused between the Daisy I thought I
knew and the one I was learning, the one constant was that my mind was
on her.

Since the seventh grade I had tried avoiding her and pretending that she
didn't really exist and now, sitting across from her, it was obvious
that I had been wrong about her. Five years had gone by with this one
girl sitting in most of the classes I had taken, attending most of the
events I had attended, and I have never sat and conversed with her; a
girl who most likely could have been my best friend, lost behind my own
stubbornness.

"So my roommate starts dating this really nice guy," she continued
speaking, "and one night we are leaving the dorm and we open the door
and sitting on the ground is this vase and it's full flowers with a card
to her and it is just so sweet, and I'm thinking," she paused for a
second and pushed her full plate of food, that had now gotten cold, to
the side before returning to what she was saying, "I'm thinking that I
don't even know what I would do if a guy was to give me flowers right
now. I'm just like, dead inside, at least with romantic feelings. No
interest at all and that scares me because what if I stay dead in here,"
she pointed to her chest, "and the next thing we know I'm this old woman
that had never loved and I've got a million cats, but no one to love?"

When she stopped speaking, this time, she expected me to answer, or at
least throw in an opinion. I thought carefully about my words and
realized that I had nothing to really contribute, other than sadness
that a girl as amazing as her could not feel she could love; ever.

"How about I pay for this food, and we listen to this new CD I just
got," I spoke quietly, not really looking at her, "I think you'll love
it," I continued, standing and taking her hand.