When We Were Wildflowers

Chapter 8 - The Void

Two long days go by. No knock from Poppy at my door. No sign of her in the street outside my house, either. Mom orders me to come along on a long list of errands: locating the new post office, shopping for bedding and matching throw pillows, and picking up groceries at the new high-end supermarket where she stocks up on six bottles of white wine. I drag my feet the entire time, hoping Mom will sense my misery and rethink her choice to delete Poppy like an app on a phone, or words you strike from a document with the click of a button. She can't just erase our friendship.

Why can't she see there was my life before Poppy? Boring, basic and babyish. Then, my life after Poppy? Fun, free and fabulous. Two different lives. 

I can't go back to the way things used to be, so I do what any thirteen year-old would do: I make her life as difficult as possible. When she turns her music up in the car, I turn it down. Every time she makes a suggestion, I roll my eyes and stare at my phone. When she talks to me, I tune her out. Instead of praising her choices at the Home Goods store, I grunt and groan. If she asks a question, I give one word answers instead of complete sentences. When she wants in, I push her out.

"What is with you today, Violet?" Mom nags while staring at me over her dark sunglasses as we walk to the car carrying four bags overflowing with merchandise. "Aren't you excited to stock up our new place?"

"You spent over $1,000."

"So?" Mom shrugs.

"So... maybe I'm just not into material things like you. Maybe I'm into people and experiences."

"Are you calling me materialistic?" Her jaw drops.

"I don't know." Confrontation makes my body squirmy and weak. I can't look her in the eyes because I know I'm walking a fine line of independence and disrespect. "It's like all you care about these days is appearances. Like, we have to have the best, newest house and the prettiest hardwood floors. You have to get highlights and manicures and Botox."

Mom huffs loudly.

Uh oh. I've done it. I've pushed her over the edge.

"Violet, this is absurd! I want to take care of myself and feel good and you have a problem with it? I want to give you and Teddy the best life and that's somehow selfish?! I'm just doing the best I can. Don't fault me for wanting to live life to the fullest! I work hard. I pay the bills. And I'll have you know I plan to be active in the community and donate to charities. I'm not all about material things."

"I didn't say that."

"Well, you implied it, and that hurts me. It does." Mom shoots me a pained look, but I'm not buying it.

"You know what hurts? You taking away my only friend in this new place. The one person I know at my new school." With an angry sigh, I shove the two bags I'm holding at her, pull open the car door and plop down in the seat growing irritated with the sticky heat, my tired feet, and Mom's complete lack of concern for my happiness.

The rear door opens, I listen to Mom's dramatic sighs and the crunch of her placing the plastic shopping bags in the trunk. I brace myself for her wrath, but when Mom opens the driver's side door, she greets me with sympathetic eyes. "Is this about Poppy?"

I nod. Duh.

"All this time I thought it was your hormones raging, and you had finally turned into the ungrateful teenager who hates her mom everyone warned me about, but it's just about that silly girl?" Mom laughs and breathes a sigh of relief. "Oh, Violet. Why didn't you say so?"

Her laughter is sandpaper on my skin. Poppy is not a 'silly girl' and neither am I. For the first time, I don't shrink down into my seat, I sit up straight. "I want you to let me see her again."