If Only I Knew

I drove down that road, on my way back and forth to work, several times a day. She was always there come rain or sunshine, with her bewitching smile, beckoning to potential customers to come buy her flowers. I don’t know why it annoyed me so much to see her cheerful.

What has she got to be happy about? I wondered. Skinny, as if she hadn’t eaten a full meal in a month, ribs showing under her threadbare clothes. Such impertinence – smiling as if the world was her oyster!

Here was I, the envy of all women – rich, well connected, a prosperous entrepreneur, and good- looking too! But the perpetual frown on my face had begun to leave wrinkles on my forehead. I noticed that friends were happy to keep their distance.

“Not a nice person to know,” I heard someone whisper.

Who cares? I thought, Money can buy me anything I want. Then why did the innocuous smile of the flower woman irritate me so much?

That day I was in a particularly foul mood. I could cool off only by venting my spleen on somebody. The flower girl was a convenient target.

There she is again, I thought, with that irritating smile permanently plastered on her face.

I would understand her happiness if she had a large clientele. But only the odd housewife stops to buy a length of jasmine for her hair.”

I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I didn’t see the boy on a bicycle approaching, until it was too late. I swerved, and drove right into a lamp post. The last thing I recall, as I lost consciousness, were tender hands holding me close.

For almost forty eight hours I was in and out of sedation, oblivious to the world around me. But on the third day, though my body ached, I was fully awake.

“Where has your friend gone?” asked the nurse.

“Friend? Who?”

“She never left your side since you were brought in. Perhaps she’s gone out for a breath of fresh air, knowing that you are awake. It was she who called for an ambulance and brought you to the hospital.”

Whoever the friend was, she didn’t put in an appearance again.

But every morning, along with my breakfast tray, there was a bright red rose. It was left at the nurses’ station for me.

It’s the flower woman, I thought, She just won’t let me be.

But somehow I couldn’t summon up my dislike for her. I knew I was undeserving of her attention. She had put aside her flower selling for two whole days, just to sit by my side.

“When I’m better, I’ll drive down and thank her. I’ll also make up for her loss of wages for two days.”

It was two whole months before I could drive my car again. But the flower woman had disappeared without a trace. I drove down several other streets in the hope of finding her, but I never saw her again.

Was she an angel? I wondered. She taught me to love, to be happy and humble. Perhaps she was somewhere out there, on another errand of love.

– Dr. Eva Bell

Dr. Eva Bell is a Doctor of Medicine and also a freelance writer of articles, short stories, children’s stories. Published in Indian magazines and newspapers, anthologies and also on the web. She is the author of two novels, one work of non-fiction and two children’s books.