The Edge of Always

20

Yes, I’m a damn liar. That necklace cost a little over six hundred bucks, but I know better than to tell her that. She thinks that expensive things are always all about how many zeroes are behind the decimal, but it’s not always about that. Really, I think it’s usually the girl that makes it all about the price. Shit, I’ve seen chicks bitch and moan about how their guy didn’t spend enough. I wonder if they even realize that they make it hard on us when they get together with their friends and compare rocks like we might compare inches. We don’t really do that, by the way. At least, I’ve never known a guy who wanted to whip his shit out and compete with me.

I wanted to buy something really nice for Camryn for her birthday. It just so happens that the one thing I liked out of everything I looked at happened to be expensive.

Deal with it, baby.

She might faint if she ever finds out how much I spent on our wedding rings, which I bought while we were in Chicago. It’s been hard keeping Camryn from seeing them. But I managed to tuck the little box I keep them in, safely into a hidden compartment in my duffel bag.

We spend the entire day doing what we always do, hanging out together and making the most of the cold weather. When we arrive back at our hotel, I grab my guitar and play for her a song I wrote and have been working on for a week. I hoped to have it done by her birthday because it is part of her birthday present. I wrote it just for her. I call it “The Tulip on the Hill,” a song inspired by the first day we spent together when I got out of the hospital after my surgery:

“I just think you should take it easy,” Camryn said that day. “No burying your head underneath Billy Frank’s hoods for a while, or bungee jumping or drag-racing.”

I laughed lightly, letting my head fall to the side to see her. I was laying longways across the top of a stone picnic table. Camryn sat on the bench near my head.

“So your definition of taking it easy is to do absolutely nothing?” I asked, smiling at her with my head propped in my hands behind me.

“What’s wrong with a quiet day in the park?” she asked and reached out to trace my brow with her fingertips.

“Nothing,” I said and kissed her fingers when her hand made it to my mouth. “I like being alone with you.”

She tilted her head gently to one side and her expression softened. Then she looked out at the park. The trees were full, and the grass was thick and green. It really was a nice day. I wondered why we seemed like the only two outside enjoying it.

“I think tulips are pretty,” she said distantly, staring toward the small, grassy hill on the other side of me.

I looked, too, and saw a single tulip perched on the top of that hill, all alone. I’m not sure why, but ever since that day, whenever I see a tulip anywhere, I think of her.

I’ll never forget the smile on her face as I play and sing the song to her. It’s so warm and bright and endearing, the kind of smile that says I Love You More Than Anything In This World without having to say the words.