When We Were Wildflowers

Chapter 19 - Promises

I pedal my bike through the misty night air, cutting in and out of darkness under the streetlights. Nearly blind with rage, I do the only thing I can think of: escape. The walls of our house are suffocating and the smell of the new paint, flooring and furnishings is so toxic I can't catch my breath. In fact, I am hyperventilating as I pedal faster and faster uphill through the middle of the street, alternately weeping and gritting my teeth.

The image of my mother—fragile, weak and defeated—is burned forever in my memory.

I wish I never came down those stairs tonight.

I could have gone back to sleep in blissful ignorance, but now, I know the truth Dad was afraid tell in front of us kids—the truth that broke my mom and reduced her to heap of wreckage on the family room sofa. Dad has been spending time with another woman and now he wants out of his marriage.

Did I ever really know him at all?

Dad didn't just break a vow with Mom, he shattered the sacred contract of fatherhood and I will never look at him the same way. Forget those golden memories of Dad and me cruising down country roads with the radio blasting. Screw those deep weekend conversations and Sunday night pep talks. I wish I could wipe every stupid dad joke from my memory and every endearing term he ever called me.

"It'd be better if he just died in the crash," I grunt through clenched teeth.

The thought is so unbelievably dark, it immediately fills me with remorse and I slow to a stop right in the middle of the road and plant my feet on the steady ground. Although all of my memories are tainted and my childhood may have very well have ended tonight, I honestly can't picture a world without my dad. I still love him fiercely despite the disappointment and heartache, but I hate him for what he did.

How can I love someone and hate them at the same time?

In that moment, I realize what a tangled, wild maze my heart is. Overgrown with frustration, twisted with sadness, dank with disappointment, and, yet, sprouting with hope and love. When I was a child, everything inside my heart seemed so neat and orderly. Every feeling had its place, but now every emotion I am experiencing is jumbled together like a mass of thorny vines fighting in the shadows as they compete for the sun. There isn't a split between good and bad anymore, or love and hate; there is only a labyrinth of twists and turns weaving in and out of light and shadow and I am utterly lost inside of it.

"Poppy, why did you have to leave me today?" I cry out into the darkness.

It's like no one on Earth could possibly understand how I feel right now but her.

Poppy knows this heartache. She knows this shellshocked state of anger, disappointment and sorrow, and I need her friendship now more than ever. My shoulders shake with a fit of silent sobs when I realize I have no one to talk to about this dramatic turning point in my life. Then I remember our pinkie promise that afternoon down by the creek, and how it reminded me of wedding vows.

Make me the most solemn promise. A promise that will stand the test of time. Promise me you will always be my best friend, in good times and bad, for richer and poorer, in sickness and in health, for all the days of our lives. Poppy's steady, serious voice echos through my mind.

We made a promise to stick together through the good times and the bad ones, and this is definitely one of the bad times. I'm not letting some fight over Alicia wilt our sprouting friendship.

It's midnight by the time I reach Poppy's farmhouse on my bike. There is only a sliver of moonlight to guide the way, so I strain my eyes to navigate the dirt road which delivers me to her front porch. Lucky for me, a light is on in Poppy's room.