My life was a prison, and Senator Jones was my sentence.
Standing in front of the door, illuminated by the morning sun, she stared at me. She was wearing a white pleated skirt, a striped shirt, stiletto heels, and pearls around her neck. Her gazeheld the same hatred as always, and I, as usual, couldn't help but draw a sad smile. No matter how much she tortured me, mistreated me, even if she were to kill me, I could never hate her. Seeing Senator Jones was a sentence, but meeting her eyes every day was also a gift she gave me without realizing it.
It was like seeing Lester again.
“Good morning, Senator Jones.” I greeted, and she frowned with all the contempt she felt for me. “At the counter or at a table?”
She jerked her chin toward the booths, her shoulder-length platinum hair swaying. “At a table,” she hissed.
I followed her quickly, stopping beside as soon as she took her seat, waiting for the order and the accusation.
“Did you sleep well, Daisy?”
“Yes, Senator Jones.”
A spiteful smile flashed across her face. “And you still have the nerve to admit it?” she spat, her furious expression nailing me to the spot. “Sometimes I wonder if you even remember him.”
That made me stagger a step back. It hurt more than any accusation she had ever made.
“Every day of my life,” I retorted, my hands tingling.
Senator Jones laughed. “It just proves you never loved him as he deserved.” I bit my tongue hearing that. “I don't understand how you have the courage to keep living.”
I lifted my chin. “It's not fair for you to say that to me.” Normally, I wouldn’t dare to respond. I usually accepted her accusations and insults, but we all have our limits.
“If life were fair, you should have died that night, not him.”
I clenched my fists tightly, swallowing another response that I knew would be futile. “Would you like me to bring you some coffee?” It was better to go back to being a waitress. If after twelve years she still hated me, nothing would change that.
“Green tea.”
“Anything else?”
“That's all.”
I ran behind the counter, swallowing the lump in my throat and wiping away the curtain of tears that blurred my vision. All those years, I had done nothing but wish I had died in Lester's place, or at least gone with him. But I couldn't change the designs of fate, nor could I change what had happened.
My penance would always be to face the guilt and the memory of the greatest love of my life alone.
August 19 I would turn thirty, which was strange. It seemed like only yesterday I was eighteen and was dancing with him at the prom. But the truth was that I was no longer that same girl, and I didn’t feel like her either.
TheFlower GirlLester had known was lost to space and time. There was nothing left of her, neither in spirit nor in body. There was no trace of the fat girl with pastel pink-dyed hair. The new Daisy was another Southern woman with honey-blonde hair, golden skin, and a skinny body. Someone who, in her darkmoments, would sneak into the city’s gym and run on a treadmill until her lungs hurt, imagining she would find those she lost at the end of an invisible road. A kind of pot of gold at the other side of the rainbow. Someone who, during the day, would put a big smile on her face, showering complete strangers with her charm, and laugh even when she just wanted to cry.
The new Daisy was a fraud with well-styled hair, tanned skin, and a nose job. A fraud with no goals, who didn't allow herself to dream of any kind of future, nor believe in any kind of happy ending. She lived each day with patience, expecting nothing.
I took the tea and placed it in front of the senator.
“The floor is dirty.”
My eyebrows knitted. “What?” I asked, looking around. The white mosaic couldn't be cleaner.
“I said...” She stretched out her arm, dumping the mug of tea in front of me, forcing me to jump backwards. “The floor is dirty. Clean it.”
Chapter 13
Camillo Vicari
July, 2025