When We Were Wildflowers

Chapter 12 - Cruising

The comforting aroma of vanilla and sugar wafts from the kitchen as I toss my canvas backpack on the slate-tiled floor of the foyer and kick off my shoes. "Mom?"

Dad appears around the corner looking a little pink in the cheeks with a sheen of sweat on his forehead and an apron tied around his wide waist. "You're just in time! I made a batch of cookies to welcome you and Teddy home from your first day of school."

"You baked?" Dad only cooks the occasional pancake breakfast or Sunday BBQ dinner, so I take a step back in amazement.

"I had a conference call canceled at the last minute, so... why not?" Dad is not his usual sedate self, he's almost giddy. "And who have you brought with you?"

"Dad, this is Poppy." I motion to her as she slips off her sneakers and sets her backpack down next to mine.

"Ah, yes, Poppy." He wipes his hands on the apron and reaches out to shake Poppy's hand. "How do you do? I'm Paul Wilson."

"Poppy Cooper. Pleased to meet you." Poppy takes Dad's hand and gives it a firm shake. You would never guess she just experienced what might be the most embarrassing moment of her life ten minutes ago. It hits me how dignified and strong she is under pressure.

"So how was your first day of school, girls?" Dad leads us to the kitchen were a baking sheet lined with a dozen chocolate chip cookies cools on the stove top.

Poppy stops and stares in awe at our spacious kitchen, white marble countertops, and sparkling new appliances. "This room looks like it belongs in a magazine."

"Thanks." Dad opens a cupboard and pulls out two small, teal porcelain plates. "How about some cookies?"

"Yes, please." Poppy runs her fingers across the shiny marble countertop as fresh new fallen snow, over the steel gray-painted cabinetry with sparkling brass handles, and her fingers find the handle of a wide, wooden drawer, which slides shut without so much as a whisper. "Oh, wow. That's impressive."

"Violet's mom wanted all the bells and whistles." Dad chuckles and walks a plate of cookies to the kitchen table. "This is her dream home. We really had to work hard to make it happen."

"You're so lucky to live here, Violet." Poppy settles into a seat at the rustic kitchen table made out of polished hickory wood and folds her hands on the tabletop. "Everything is new. We don't have anything new at my house."

The gushing compliments from Poppy, although well-intentioned, eat away at my conscience. I can't help but see myself as one of the 'haves' and her as one of the 'have nots.' My family has everything we could ever want (and more) and now it's practically being thrown in her face. Out in the woods and at Poppy's house, we were equals--two carefree girls running free and enjoying simple pleasures like a game of cards, fresh air and a starry sky--but here I am reminded we come from different lots in life and it gives me a bitter taste in my mouth.

I swallow my distain for our expensive existence with a bite of my cookie. "Where's Mom?"

"She had to go into the office today for some important client meetings and will be home late." Dad joins us at the table and grabs a cookie off the plate. When he takes a bite, a melted chocolate chip smudges his chin.

Poppy giggles and points. "You've got something right there."

Dad wipes away the chocolate and nods in thanks. "So what do you girls have planned for this afternoon?"

"I don't know." I glance at Poppy, wondering if the scandal on the bus calls for a calm afternoon in my room filled with acoustic music, makeovers and a movie, or if she's rather run free through the woods, leaping over rocks and splashing in the creek. But what if it's none of the above? What if Poppy's heartache can't be covered up with make-up or washed away in the cool creek water?