She wasn’t even fully aware of how she had made it there. Not just to the garage-though that all seemed like some sort of hazy dream that she’d just been woken from. She could remember parts of it, but none of it seemed to pull it all together; she couldn’t recall actually driving out there. Somehow she had just known. It made sense that he’d come here, where else would he have gone? Daisy had driven without thinking; the only thing keeping her going was the promise of seeing Donald again. Now that she was here, with him, she wasn’t entirely sure what to do.
Nuzzling her face further against his neck, a shaky breath racked her body. In her head her mind was spinning trying to stitch together a coherent sentence, something, anything for her to say before he pushed her away.
Her heart suddenly dropped to her stomach. The only thought that seemed to push through her scattered mind was her silent begging that he wouldn’t turn her away, not now.
“I’m sorry.” She finally blubbered, though his neck muffled her voice. There wasn’t much else to say. She’d said it all early and he’d left. Anything else now and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to find out what would happen. “What are you sorry for?” the voice in her head drawled. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” The words tumbled from her lips again. “I’m sorry that I’m Daphne.” She cringed at the use of her own name. Since when had saying Daphne become so taboo? She’d always been Daisy-more importantly, she’d always been Dais. Any mention of her other half seemed to spark something that no one ever wanted to visit. She was Daphne though. Daphne and Daisy, they both made up who she was.
It was even her own father who had nicknamed her Daisy to begin with. Why then was Daphne such an issue for her? Daphne always seemed to be the vain, obnoxious girl who looked down her nose at the rest of the world because she was both smart and beautiful. Daisy’s only problem with that was that she had never been like that. She had never been the Daphne that she seemed to dread she was. Granted she was a socialite, she was popular, the other girls would often look to her for fashion-but never had Daisy given in to the snobby self centered ways that seemed to plague the rest of the people in her social status.
Something she could thank both her parents for. Neither of them had let money rule their lives. Granted her father was always conscious of it, but that was how he had raised her as well, how she had made it this far…she’d lived her life as Daphne. Here with Donald though Daphne seemed to be the worst thing she could ever be.
“You’re not scared of no longer being Daisy,” the voice echoed in her head “You’re scared he wont accept Daphne-the girl you’ve been since he left.”
For a moment the words stuck in her throat, but she pushed them. “Please don’t leave me.” She begged finally pulling back from him to face him. “I’m asking you this as me…whoever I am.” Daisy paused for a moment, gasping for air. Her lungs trying to cut her off stop her from speaking. She wasn’t supposed to be such a mess. Her mind swam around in her head. When was the last time she had ever apologized so much? When was the last time she had felt so helpless? That question was a bit easier, she could only think of two moments that filled that answer. When her mother died, and the first time Donald had left her.
With a moment of realization, Daisy’s lungs suddenly expanded, allowing her to breath deeply. The uncomfortable numb sensation slowly wrapping itself around her as she stepped back from him, eyes trained on his face in an attempt to read him.
Quietly she bent over grabbing at the blanket that had fallen from her shoulders when she’d launched herself at him. Without a word she placed it gently on the car next to him before walking back out in to the rain.
Daisy turned her face skyward. She couldn’t tell if it was raining harder now or before, not that it mattered much. Her body convulsed, the cold rainwater seeping back in to her skin in its demanding embrace.
Was this going to happen every time Donald left? She didn’t know if she could take feeling so broken, so helpless. As much as she didn’t want him to leave again, maybe he needed to. When had she crossed the boarder from loving him to obsessing over him? The past few days seemed to be yet another fuzzy dream that she couldn’t quite grasp. Everything was always about Donald though. Donald and how he left her. Donald and how his rejection had kept her from telling him she loved him. Donald and how much it hurt to think he’d given up on her. Donald and how much she knew she would never be able to let him go.
“I don’t want to let you go.” She whispered. “I don’t want to lose you…” her words fell to the ground. “I just think I spent so long being Donnie and Daisy, that I lost who Daisy was.” Her stomach tightened. “I don’t know how I expected you to ever love me, when I don’t even know who I am.”
