Chapter 2: Proposal
"Man, it never gets any less strange to see whenever we come back here," Drift says, placing her hand against the wood panelled wall of the hallway. She glances back at Aimée, who is lit up in the dim glow of genuine oil lanterns still affixed to the walls, slouching against the beautifully carved bannister running up the staircase that twists its way up to the floor above, her hair chopped up into a messy mullet, a faded horror movie shirt hanging half untucked over her ripped jeans. She well and truly could not look more out of place if she tried. "If you weren't dressed like that, I'd think it was still the 1800s."
Aimée smiles at her, "Well, I've put a lot of money into keeping the place preserved, even the furniture is still all the original pieces," she pushes off the bannister and comes over, leaning in close and whispering in her ear, "Including the bed."
Drift laughs and shoves her shoulder, "Yeah I'm sure it is, you freak. I bet you'd have kept the bedsheets too if you could."
Aimée grins at her, then slides her arm around Drift's waist and begins walking down the length of the corridor, "So why'd you wanna visit? Feeling nostalgic?"
"Mm, something like that," Drift says, following along with her hand in the pocket of her jacket. "How's the garden? Are they keeping it up to your standards?"
"Ugh," Aimée groans, "Not at all. It's passable, I suppose, but it doesn't truly flourish without my touch."
Drift's face falls slightly, "Oh, really? Is it still alright with you if we visit?"
Aimée laughs, "You can do whatever you want, Drift, you don't need my permission."
Drift rolls her eyes, "Better question then—does it bother you enough to not want to see it?"
"Oh, no," Aimée answers, "It's still my garden, after all. And it's not terrible, I'm just... particular, you know."
"Ahh," Drift nods, "Yeah that tracks. Well shall we head over?"
Aimée frowns, and looks down the hall, "You don't want to visit the office?"
Drift smiles wryly to herself, then schools her face back to an innocent smile when Aimée looks back at her, "I do, but I think we should go there afterwards."
Aimée's eyebrow quirks and she grins, arm around Drift's waist tightening and pulling her in closer, "Oh really?" she purrs, her face inches away from Drift's.
"Mmm," Drift hums back, slipping her hand out of her pocket and tapping Aimée on the nose, "Garden first."
"Alright, alright," Aimée laughs, and pulls her along.
"Aimée I have to be so honest with you, I have no idea what you mean. The garden is as lovely as ever," Drift says, brushing her fingers against the heart-shaped leaves of the climbing moonflower vine that wraps around the archway that marks the garden's entrance, its bright white flowers filling the air with their delicate, floral fragrance, mixing with the honey sweet scent of the night phlox blooming in the flower beds around them. The wash of bright moonlight paints the leaves and flowers in shades of silver, the yew hedgerows all around shimmering beneath its light as they shift beneath the breeze. Aimée has never told her so, but Drift has always suspected the night-blooming flowers were planted for her sake.
Aimée sighs almost wetly, wiping away a tear that does not exist, "You wouldn't understand. My beautiful baby, she's just not the same without me!" she shakes her head, and then the faux-sad expression drops, "I'm glad you still like it, though. I may not see her much these days, but she'll always be my pride and joy."
"Of course I do," Drift chuckles, "You know, actually, I don't think I've ever told you this? I used to sometimes visit your garden as a bat, just to enjoy it."
"Wait, really?"
"Yeah. I'm fond of the place," she smiles, softly. Then the smile turns into a grin and she elbows her lightly, "Sometimes I'd even get to oggle you while you were gardening."
A wide grin blooms on Aimée's face, "Ha! And you call me a freak!" Aimée says, voice dancing with delight.
"Takes one to know one, you know," Drift replies with a lilt, "Shall we go to the magnolia tree?" she asks, nodding her head towards the path and stepping forward.
"Oh?" Aimée smiles, following along, "Planning on re-enacting something?"
"Pah, you wish," Drift rolls her eyes, "It's just my favourite spot."
"Oh is it now?" Aimée drawls, "Filled with good memories?"
"Mmm," Drift hums back, "That's one reason, yes. I just kind of like it, though. It's pretty—see?"
They round the hedgerow, and the ancient magnolia twists before them, encircled by the same flowerbeds that have lain there for nearly 200 years. Sure enough, various memories flicker through Drift's mind as they see it—soft moments, heated arguments... both at the same time, in most cases... Drift's hand comes to rest on the bark as they approach. "Mm... Yeah," she murmurs to herself, "This will do."
Aimée frowns, "This will do..?"
"Yes," Drift turns to her smiling, then closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. When she opens them again, she fixes Aimée with a gaze so intense it makes her heart skip. "Aimée, for the last 181 years, you have harassed, threatened, blackmailed, and been an all around nuisance in my life. I don't think there is a single person on this planet alive or dead who has caused me more headaches than you have. The google doc I could write about you would take weeks to read," Aimée startles and opens her mouth, but Drift holds a finger up to stop her, "Yet, you have also been there for me in some of my darkest moments, held anger for me when I could not hold it myself, and offered me a kindness no-one else could. Although you did use very underhanded tricks to get me to turn you, and even worse tricks to get me to give you an open invitation to my home, rendering me well and truly stuck with you for the rest of time... I must admit, my eternity would have been very boring without you in it."
Aimée's face twists with confusion, taken aback by the bizarre mixture of insult and praise. Her mouth opens again, and then closes, her head tilting.
"On the other hand," Drift continues, "They have a saying these days—'no means no', are you familiar with it? Don't answer, I know you're not. For nearly two centuries, like clockwork you have asked me again and again to marry you, knowing full well my answer to your asking will always, unshiftingly, from now until the end of time, be a resounding no."
Aimée eyes go wide with horror, "Are—are you breaking up with me?"
Drift stops talking, staring at her, then guffaws loudly, bending over and needing a moment to collect herself, "No! God no, not at all Aimée, you think I'd bring us here just to break up with you!?"
"Well I don't know!" Aimée exclaims, her cheeks flushing red, "Maybe you, you want one last look before we part ways!?" she gestures around them wildly.
Drift wheezes and wipes her eyes, coughs another laugh, and then reaches into her pocket, "No, quite the opposite actually. You see, my answer to you asking may be no, Aimée. But what is yours?"
Aimée stares at the little velvet box in her hand, "What."
Drift drops down to her knee, "Aimée Hawthorne—"
"What."
"—Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"
"What!?" Aimée shrieks, hand flying to her forehead and stumbling backwards slightly, "What the fuck. Hello? Where am I?"
Drift grins at her, "Come on man, don't leave me hanging."
"Drift what the fuck. That's the worst proposal I've heard in my entire life. Who are you? Mr. Darcy?! I seriously thought you were breaking up with me!"
"Well maybe you should have done more things for me to speak positively about," Drift retorts with a roll of the eyes, "Besides, Darcy's mistake was insulting her family. That was aaall you, babygirl. Anyway, if you don't want the ring I'll just go give it to Shelby instead."
"Wh—no! I, wait. Yes? Sorry. Hold on," she presses her face into her hands for a moment and inhales deeply, "You just proposed to me?"
Drift's eyes soften, "I did."
She just stares at her, blinking a little too much, hand covering the mouth that hangs open in shock. "You proposed?"
"Yup."
"You're asking me to marry you?"
"I am asking you, Aimée Hawthorne, to marry me."
She looks up at the sky, "You know I actually don't remember getting staked, could like my dying conscience clarify when that happened exactly?"
Drift laughs again, "This is the real deal dude, if you ask me then I'll say no, but I'm asking you this time."
Her gaze drops back to Drift, "Oh my god. You stubborn little—right. Right, okay," she laughs, and shakes her head, "You're actually insufferable, did you know that?"
Drift grins at her, and begins to lower the ring box, "Well I mean if you don't want it, like I said I can give the ring to—"
"—I do!" Aimée yelp, her hands flying out in a warding motion. "Shit, sorry, wrong one. Yes, yes Drift. Yes, I want to marry you."
"I do?" Drift laughs.
"Shut up!" Aimée buries her face in her hands and groans, "Just put the ring on me already. Or just stake me at this point, whatever."