FLOWER

CHATPER 2.1

I haven't slept a wink all night. Even Nasturtia's later quiet breathing disturbs me from falling asleep. Even more so when I realise how much she slept in the car. Not even a helicopter landing in the garden can wake her up.

Medium-lived I get up and go to the kitchen. Regretting it after just a moment. My parents are calculating how much work needs to be done to make the hovel usable from the outside and the garden usable and pleasing to the eye. On the tightest possible budget. So the children will finally be doing something useful. It promises to be wonderful. Somewhere I don't even want to be. I don't feel like it or want to focus on it. I make quick sandwiches and walk towards the kitchen exit.

- And where are you going. We're talking after all.-Not good. I need to think of something quick.

- To my room to have breakfast with my sister.

- You'll run out of food halfway through. And you probably won't give her an empty plate.

- Okay- I'm making sandwiches.

- What's so sterile. Add cucumber, tomato and lettuce. Dad cooked some eggs. They'll be delicious.

I sigh but follow the directions. She made me crave these sandwiches.

After breakfast, my sister and I pretend to be asleep. We don't react to our parents' busyness and increasingly loud conversation.

- We get up, the day will pass you by. - I tardily open my eyes. Mum is standing in the doorway.-You will help your father with the grubbing of the garden. Some tools we found in the garage, I hope they will work .-I look puzzled at my sister. She looks at me the same way.

- What?

- If you hadn't spent so much time in the car yesterday, chances are you'd know what I'm talking about.

We reluctantly stand up under the urgent maternal gaze. Better not to risk pulling the string any further. Before she has time to put on her trousers, Nasturcja already has a whole nice rhyme to do. It's time to get out of Mum's sight very quickly as long as she's only reciting to her sister. I may have succeeded with the garden after all. T-shirt, trousers, shoes, rubber band that's all I need for the job.

I look for tools and, above all, the garage, which, as it turned out, is part of the whole hovel. Some genius came up with a door not on the front of the building and the road. Only on the side opposite to where we arrived. So that it wasn't too practical. Who likes to make life easier for themselves these days.

Fortunately, Dad had already prepared everything. All the tools were in wheelbarrows. When I grab a small soiled secateurs in my hand. I immediately regret it. It is covered not only with old dust but also with something oily. Getting a glowing, black glow.

- Why the hell did someone grease it with this crap! - The tool itself escapes from my hand.

- Do we have any gloves?

- I'm sorry, we don't. - Dad speaks from afar.

- You can't even hold these tools! I can't work under these conditions! I can't work under these conditions! I can smell the grease. It stinks! I don't want to be here. 

I decide to set about removing small, young shrubs, trees. Along with collecting them in one place.

The work is as beautiful as I am at the moment. I'm covered in grease, mud and plant debris. My hands are profusely scratched from the bushes. The brambles, branches give way after groans, whimpers and all manner of flowery expressions. And Dad, for some reason, is slowly but effectively moving away from me. So now he works from the other side of the garden. And every now and then I have to walk over to him to get the tools, which he has again in a second. It's just wonderful.

 - Lunch.

No need to say it twice, I drop everything and go. Dad apparently acts like me.

- Ooo no way, you look like a scarecrow. - She looks straight at me with Mum's stern eyes.-You go and scrub yourself first. - She glances at Dad.-Love and have you done anything at all, after Rose at least you can tell.

- I just know the right technique.

- And you didn't share it with me.

- Little flower, all you had to do was ask me.

- Don't spell anymore darling, it's okay. If I didn't know you I'd believe you.

Exasperated, I go to shake out my clothes; unfortunately some twigs have chewed into the fabric. And it takes ages to get them out. Along with smearing grease on most of the fabric of my clothes. This is beyond my strength and nerves. No more of this fun. Finally, when mum's eyes are averted I duck into the bathroom.

I sit clean and angry at the table. My skin is all red from scrubbing and previous scratches from reopening. A cold shiver runs through me. I still need to warm up after this torture. I am not a walru.

- But, flower, don't be angry with your mother. Out of habit, she forgot to fire up the furnace so there would be hot water.

- You know how bad grease comes off in icy water!

- Use the soap next time.-I'm eyeing Dad.

- I spilled a ton of it on myself! -I hiss through my teeth.

- The sponge is fit to be thrown away!

- The garden work is over for today, we are missing a few things. I have a preliminary list. -She adds in a few seconds.-Love you need to check what about the windows don't open in our and Nasturcja's bedroom.

- I'll go with my dad.-Sister speaks up enthusiastically.

- Get it out of your head, after the last time I sent you out shopping. You should have made complaints. To the average person it would have taken half an hour with the commute, not two, and three more the next day.

- But she was out shopping yesterday.

- They're going to the building shop.

- Only.

- Yes.

- Pity. 

She glances sadly at Mum hoping for a change of heart. One last pleading glance at Dad, who only winks at her in consolation. 

 Mum has disappeared somewhere and Dad is checking on the windows. So we had moments to ourselves. I used it for an afternoon nap.

- Bożydar [A gift from God/I do not know the English equivalent }! Come here at once!-I am woken up by Mum's shout.

A little dazed, I get up. Dad immediately obediently goes into the yard. And my sister and I follow him. Stopping at the door. Safety first and foremost. It must be bad. Dad is just standing next to Mum located at the open tailgate. We haven't hidden the coffee drink yet.

- What is it.-He points to the interior of the vehicle. And Dad scratches his head in thought.

- Caramel coffee Honey.

- Don't mock me.-He turns red in the face.

- Dearest never. There's no reason to be angry. I had to somehow convince the flowers to leave the car. 

- There's three cases of this shit here. 

 - They're tough fighters. I could barely manage.

Mum looks at Dad from under her squinted eyelids. Then she looks out for us at the door. A couple of times her gaze jumps over us and assesses.

- Is it true?- We nod.

- Be that as it may. - She sighs discontentedly.- Do you guys realise how much chemistry is involved.

- Honey...

- I'm not done with you so soon. We'll talk some more.

- Anything you wish for dearest.

- Get it out of my car!

 For me, there is no problem at all. I immediately walk over to the car and pick up two packs. Nasturtiums supply one. Mum looks condemningly at our beloved drink. I put it in the cupboard in my room so that it no longer stings my parent's eyes. My sister follows me and after a while there are three packets stacked on top of each other.