Love you to death, a phrase Jared had heard all his life, but never quite understood.
Having smiled at the waitress who had come over to refill his mug with a sorry excuse for coffee, he looked around the table at his friends. They were all now living the best lives they could’ve ever dreamed of. Everyone of them having finished at the top of their professions whether that was in the armed services, two being generals, while the others had been in business or the medical field.
Jared looked at his breakfast which lay on his plate getting cold, as he wondered whether he should really be eating something so unhealthy. For the past five years, this little motley group of men and sometimes their wives would join them if they didn’t have anything better to do, met on Friday mornings to go over what had or had not happened in both their tiny world and the greater world out there. Though most times that was far too depressing to contemplate. The tiny little island where they lived in large palatial homes, in some cases to the regret of their heirs who felt they were spending their inheritances, was eight miles long and less than half a mile wide and was more interesting. For instance, Dennis, not a member of the group, who lived at the other end of the eight mile long island, had caught a shark on the end of his fishing line and then wisely let the fish dive back into the ocean, taking his fishing rod with it instead of trying to land the giant man eating monstrosity. That happened a few months ago, but it still remained an item of much humour and discussion especially amongst those who sat around the table at the coffee shop, which prided itself as having the best breakfast on the island. Being that it was the only pseudo restaurant on the island, no one could argue with their assertion.
Jared wasn’t hungry on this particular Friday morning as he and his wife Rachel had had a large dinner the night before. It was something Rachel had seen on the internet, which they had originally tasted in Italy by far their favourite country, which she attempted to recreate. Actually, she did a very good job. Thus, instead as they most often did, leave some in the fridge for dinner the following night though sometimes it ended up if the portions were small enough as a lunch, in this case it was all gone. Jared now looked at his fried eggs swimming in grease and he couldn’t help but notice that the longer they remained on the plate the amount of grease seemed to increase. It was obvious the other not so wholesome food around those eggs had been convinced to surrender their grease, and as it had begun to solidify even in that semi tropical climate, to Jared eating it would mean losing the memory of last night’s dinner. So instead he poked at them occasional to see if the yolks would run or just walk away from the rest of the items on his plate was sufficient.
The others however didn’t have any compunction and ate heartily. “Not eating your breakfast this morning?” asked one of the two generals, the younger one though by not much. Jared didn’t answer and instead pushed his plate towards him. That was an invitation for the rest to finish Jared’s breakfast. In matter of a couple of minutes, his plate was clean. As he pulled back it back in front of him, he remarked that Dennis should join them instead of trying to catch a shark because he would have more fun. When Heather returned to the table to see if there more takers for her pathetic excuse for coffee, she remarked about Jared’s clean plate and injected her take on the Dennis saga. She believed it was Jared who had wiped his plate clean. Jared, not one to destroy anyone’s feelings, agreed that the breakfast that morning was the best in years. A compliment which was transmitted at lightening speed to her husband the chef, or at least that’s what he called himself. The diners didn’t want to destroy his illusion so went along with it.
Jared leant back in his chair. “Question,” he said after a few seconds. “What does love you to death mean?”
“Oh, that’s an easy one,” at least the other general the older one thought so. “It’s obvious, Jared. I thought even you a man who has been married for 50 years knows what that is.”
Jared looked at the general in amusement, as he was a bachelor and waited for an answer. None was forth coming.
Jared’s friend John thought it was time for him to enlighten the audience and add his take. “Love you to death means I’ll love you until I die.”
“Then why not say that?” shot back Jared a little feisty as he was getting hungry and found he couldn’t bring himself to ask for something to eat. John contemplated Jared’s reply and not really having a suitable answer sat back in his chair. There were other suggestions, but the one that made the most sense came form the dimmest of them Ian, who always fancied himself somewhat of a ladies’ man, though no one was sure what lady, replied. “I’ll squeeze you to death, that’s what that means.”
Of course, the others didn’t believe that as it was the antithesis of love.
“After all,” Jared offered once the others had gone silent, “after all gentleman, whoever made up that phrase didn’t know how he…..”
“Or she,” interjected Ian not one to fade into the woodwork,
“Or she,” nodded Jared as he continued, “knew what they were talking about. It would’ve been much better to have said I will love you forever, than to say something meaningless like love you to death.”
“You know you can smother someone with too much love.” it was that turn of the most boring of the group Stanley, who had been a banker and looked the part in both dress and demeanour. He was once asked if he owned a pair of shorts, to which his answer was to cut the legs of one his most expensive trousers.
“So, what you think love you to death means? Come here the love of my life, I’m going to hold you so close to me with my powerful arms that when I finally let go, you’ll simply slide on to the floor because I squeezed all the life out of you. You mean something like that?”
“I guess so,” replied Stanley not sure if that’s what he really meant.
“Why can’t people, when they say something just say it clearly so there’s no need for interpretation?”
Everyone agreed. That is everyone except Ian who always had to have the last word. “Anyone read Shakespeare?”
A look of, ‘oh my goodness Ian you actually outdid yourself with that question spread over the others faces.’
“Who’s turn is it to pay?” asked Jared getting up and stretching his arms above his head.
“Mineth,” replied the younger of the two generals.
“I agreeth,” replied the rest without Ian and then burst out in laughter as they had all thought of the same word at the same time.