Compliments and poppies

He came from behind her shoulder and, with a soft whisper, he told her what he thought about her. The soft touch with the skin on her arm triggered in him something different, something that had been asleep. It was not until that moment when he realized how soft and delicate that skin was, and the sweet fragrance that was coming from that body. He realized that that night was the perfect chance to talk. Every woman feels good when she hears a compliment…. “I hadn’t realized your skin was so soft. I have to tell you something I’ve been keeping to myself for quite some time. I don’t want you to take it badly…and it wasn’t the wine what has troubled me. I am conscious of what I’m going to say…” They had been work partners for several months, and one time there came an opportunity to take a trip. An exposition of plastic artists had summoned them out of their city. They spent only three days and two nights sharing many intense hours together. The last day there was a gala for all the participants, and there, between glasses of wine, appetizers and nice background music, they enjoyed the pleasant evening. The place was decorated with some fresh poppies, placed in strategic places. The main dish was of course the artworks of the many different local artists. When she came into that room and saw the poppies, she felt at home. In her garden, the poppies grew in abundance. Many times she was told to plant a different kind of flower, like roses, geraniums, freesias…. but no. Poppies were her favorites, and they had always been. She remembered the time when her husband, back when they were only friends, brought her a bouquet of poppies as a gift. It was the same for their wedding, at church, and at home, when their children were born, the maternity room was full with them. Weren’t they her favorite flowers? “I hope you can forgive me if what I say seems out of place, but I’m beginning to feel something for you; something more than partnership, more than friendship. I don’t know if you feel the same way. I know, I know, you’re not alone, but not telling you this would be a lost opportunity.” That rather thin woman was wearing a long but simple dress attached to her shoulders by two straps, and a linen shawl above everything else. Upon hearing those words, she turned around and looked at him with big, dark eyes, a gaze that was steady but also astonished. The first thing she felt was joy. She already knew. She was expecting him to express her his feelings at any moment, but deep down, she didn’t want to face that moment. But that moment came at that night full with poppies and art. She appreciated his friendship very much, for he was a well-known artist. She had learned at his side. Many times he had been the patron she needed to make her own artwork known. Their ideas matched. And not only that, but he was also a nice and pleasant person. “I wished I could accept your compliment. And I’m flattered. I think I’ve been waiting for this for a long time, but I have to tell you something, and please don’t take this the wrong way.” At that moment, she took his hand and opened it. Then, she closed it tenderly, as if she had put something inside. “I can’t accept your compliment or your confession. For the friendship that binds us, for the respect that I have of you, and because I don’t want to lose you, I return them to you. Take them, because if I keep them, my heart will be hurt. And I don’t want to treasure what I don’t need. I will not keep this compliment nor this confession inside of me. You know I’m a married woman. For that, my friend, I return them to you. You understand?” And then, after having talked, she slipped her delicate hands away. The line that divides a true friendship, a feeling of respect or a feeling of admiration from the ground of love is many times very thin. And what is love between a man and a woman? It’s when after many years of sharing joys and sorrows, abundance and scarcity, the feeling of being close or being away is the same. Just what is love? Is it habituation? Is it routine? Or is it that intense beating of the heart when you’re near the person you look up to? Or is it just the little details, like realizing that the person you loved changed her perfume, or has softer skin? And so it was that that woman returned to her city. Her children and husband were waiting for her at the airport. The children had a big welcome poster full of hearts, and her husband had a bouquet of poppies in his hand. She came to her children first, who were running to receive their mother’s first kiss and hug. Then he came closer, and hugged her and kissed her. He said something barely audible to her ear. She smiled at him, and, walking embraced, she said: “Yes, honey, I changed my perfume. I’m so glad you noticed!”