Chapter 15

Mark reached the stone a little earlier that day. He had got a sudden impulse to do what he came to do. He knew the moment it came to him that he should have done it earlier. The stone—the stone had played a very important part in their togetherness and what he was going to do now was fitting to the extreme. He picked up one of the many stones with a sharp edge and started etching into the stone. It took him quite a while and effort but the end result was satisfying in a deep, intense way for him.

Mark loves Daisy, forever.

In clear and dark letters, it stared back at him. These inanimate letters when together took on a life of their own, talked in a language that only he could understand. And Daisy would, he hoped. There, etched on the stone, he made the truth unalterable. No one could erase it now. They could, of course, pick up and throw the stone or shatter it into pieces, but the words would still exist, even if separated.

Mark was happy, as he saw Daisy walking down the road. Casually, he sat on top of the etching so that Daisy wouldn’t be able to notice it. He wanted to enjoy this.

"Hey, that’s my side of the stone!" she said coming up to him.
"Yes, I know," he said, "but I want to see how the sunset looks from your side." He spoke as if it was a point of faultless logic.
"Well," she said a little sarcastically, "I haven’t really thought about it you know? But I guess I can give it a shot!"
As she sat on the right side of the stone Mark took out a packet of Classic Mild and handed it to her.
"Here," he said, "smoke away."
Daisy smiled faintly. "Thanks Mark," she said, sliding the packet inside her denim pocket.
"You’re welcome. Why aren’t you smoking?"
"I don’t have a light."
"I do," he said, taking his lighter out.
"Not right now Mark," she said, a little gloomily, "don’t feel like it."
"What’s wrong?" he asked, noticing her tone.
"I didn’t think you’d be handing me cigarettes. I thought you’d slap me if you saw me with one."
"Daisy," he said, trying to make her see his point, "I can either make you happy, or myself. I choose your happiness over mine…"
"Mark, do you want me to smoke this?" she asked, tapping the box in her pocket.
"Yes," he replied.
"Okay then I would like to do what you want me to. But would you do the same for me?"
"Yes, of course."
She took out the packet and offered him one.
"What?" he asked.
"I’ve never seen you smoke. I’ve only fantasized about it. I want to see how you look when you smoke."
"Well," Mark said, a little confused and a bit upset, "if it’s such a great fantasy for you then I will."
Daisy stared at him while he lit the cigarette and took a long drag, blowing the smoke out exaggeratedly.
"So, have you come?" he joked.
"I’m almost there, I’m almost there," she replied smiling. "Come on. Go on."
"Christ! This girl is mad," he muttered and took another puff. "Wanna share it?" he asked.
"Sure. But this is our last cigarette. No more smoking for either of us after this. So enjoy this one," she said seriously. "And no talking in between."
"Yes ma’am. As you say."
"I said no talking," she said clenching her teeth.
"That applies to you as well doesn’t it?"
"Hushhhh!!!"
They smoked in silence for some time. "Ok time out," Mark said, when the filter started burning. "Now do you want to chomp off the butt too?"
"Shut up Mark. One drag left. Want it?"
"No."
Daisy threw the cigarette. "So, what do we do with the packet?" she asked.
"I don’t know. You’re the one who makes the rules. I have an easy way though."
"What?" she asked.
"How about throwing it?" he said sardonically.
"But you bought it for me," she said, taking on a cute half sad face.
"Okay if it means so much to you, then just frame it and hang it up on your wall," Mark continued to mock.
"Okay, will do that."
"Oh shut up," he said suddenly and snatched the packet from her and threw it down the mountain.
"Mark!!!" she screamed angrily. "How dare you do that?!"
"Hey, chill," Mark said, a little taken aback at her serious tone. "It’s just a packet of cigarettes which we didn’t want to smoke."
"You will never understand Mark!" she snapped. "Never." Daisy got up from the stone and started walking down the cliff. It wasn’t too steep but she took small cautious steps.
"Daisy, come back up," Mark tried to stop her but she didn’t listen. "Oh damn, wait. I’m coming," he shook his head in disgust.
Mark slowly led her down to where the packet lay. She picked it up and kept it back in her pocket.
"Why the…" he asked, at a loss for words.
"I don’t know," she replied looking at him earnestly.

Mark kissed her on the lips. Even though they had kissed several times, Daisy was always pleasurably stunned. Her eyes remained closed, her lips still quivering, even after his lips parted from hers.
"Mark, it’s been long since you took me in your arms," she said to his surprise, once she could speak again.
He smiled and picked her up in one swift motion. The walk up wasn’t too much. Just before reaching the stone, Mark put her down.
And Daisy felt weak in the knees. She was staring at the etched words, overwhelmed. Mark shut his eyes tight, waiting eagerly for a reaction. As usual it was an unexpected one. "That’s my side of the stone," she said, "and from now on if you want to see the sunset from my side, you’ll have to sit on my lap."

In a vague way, it was most gratifying reaction he could have hoped to get. He sat on her side of the stone but not on her lap, in front of her. She had her legs around his, her hands wrapped around his shoulders. He was watching the sun go down from where Daisy saw it everyday. She was watching the same sight with her head stretched as far as possible to the right—from where Mark saw it everyday. No sight could have been better, for either of them.