4 Leaf Clover - ᴹˣᴹˣᴹˣᴹ

39.

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Clover strolled leisurely down a narrow, tranquil street lined with identical, charming houses. Each residence boasted white terraces adorned with delicate wooden paned windows and meticulously maintained gardens that exuded an air of serenity. As he glanced through the billowing curtains, he caught glimpses of the warm, inviting wooden interiors, each adorned with unique touches reflecting the individual personality of its inhabitants.

Clover was looking for number 82, he passed by glancing at the pinned-up number plates on gates and on terraces. Finally, a clean 82 wooden sign appeared and Clover went into the garden. The white picket fence reminded him of his lovers, of the garden he helped plant flowers in and he strolled into his aunt's garden with a light heart. He knew why he had come, for answers, and the answers might be dark and unsettling but he was feeling weirdly light-hearted. He almost accepted that the rumours weren't going to be true.

He knocked, his knuckles hit the door three times and then he stood patiently. Michelle was his mother's youngest sister, she got married at 18, 2 years before she came of age in the Volvic family. As far as Clover knew, she was one of the youngest to get married in the last couple of decades.

"Oh Clover," She appeared at the door, "Come on in,"

Michelle was lovely - a few years ago, her husband had passed and it had impacted her deeply. She was like Clover's mother a few years ago, wearing expensive conservative clothing and glorifying god every day, but then her husband passed. It was a tragic misfortune, even those who pray to god cannot escape car accidents. Michelle's whole attitude took a turn, her happiness vanished and she silently stopped believing so much.

The interior of her house was completely contrasting to Clover's house. Michelle and her older sister clearly had dissimilar aesthetics and Clover found it fascinating. It was delicate and airy in Michelle's house and instead of the black decorations, Michelle preferred colourful ornaments and a weird variety of pictures on the walls. She guided Clover to sit at her white kitchen table and placed a cow food mat in front of him.

"You came at a perfect time," She chuckled, "I just finished making dinner,"

"How much did you make?" Clover asked, hoping she still had enough to make a plate for herself.

"Well, the thing I read said it made enough for 3 people so," She declared from the kitchen and Clover grinned.

He never conversed much with Michelle despite her being at every family function. His other aunt was mean, but it would explain why Theo turned out so diabolical. As Clover grew up, Michelle was going through the hardest years of her life due to her husband's passing so their family connection never really flourished and Clover once thought Michelle would be like her older sisters. Clover found it ironic that his family connections were more beneficial now that he had returned than they ever had been.

His aunt walked back into the room, her slippers dragging across the floor. She gently placed a plate down with some lasagne on, Clover smiled at the sight of it. It reminded him of Elio and the plate of lasagne he had tried as his first plate of proper food after being homeless. Not only did he remember his Italian lover, but he remembered that this type of food was against their traditions.

"Aunt Michelle?" Clover was cautious with approaching the subject, "Does the rest of the family know you cook this...food?"

"No," She replied curtly, "And they won't find out right?"

She glanced at him with fierce eyes, it was the first time Clover had ever seen her with so much conviction. Clover had no doubt she had some before his uncle passed but in recent years, she had been subdued. Clover wondered if she felt more alive and more normal away from the family, much like him.

"Right," Clover chuckled, "I haven't had lasagne in so long,"

"Where have you had it?" She questioned with a sweet smile.

Clover paused for a second, he couldn't possibly mention his 3 boyfriends. His aunt might be less religious than his mother but surely this would make her have a stroke. He continued to think about the words he wanted to say, about what he wanted to confess then he felt a soft hand on his wrist.

"Are you okay?" Michelle asked, "What happened while you were gone?"

"Huh?"

"You know, you remind me a lot of her," Michelle had a forlorn expression on her face, "My Ivy,"

"Aunt Michelle, why didn't I ever meet her?" Clover had never felt so determined to know something, but the rumours and the secretiveness about his older cousin was so confusing.

"I thought your mother might have told you," She said, a sad smile playing on her lips, "She ran away a few years ago,"

"She ran away?" Clover double-checked, so she wasn't dead, perhaps the gravestone was decoration so that people outside their family would stop being so...gossipy.

"Yes," Michelle said, "She just...hated us,"

"Our family," Clover nodded in complete understanding.

"She ran to the city and she got lost there for a few days," Michelle explains, "It blew out of proportion and the news came after us, it caused a lot of hassle for your father's business and then, I got the news that she had passed,"

"Passed?" Clover nearly shot out of his seat, "What? How?"

"I don't know, your mother got there first," Michelle said, "I just got there at the hospital and they said she had severe injuries to her head and pneumonia from the cold water, they suspected that someone had attacked her and pushed her into some cold water,"

"I'm sorry Aunt Michelle," Clover said, his heart beating in his chest heavily and he felt a guilt so deep it was surreal.

"It's okay," She said, "She was 21, and she knew the dangers of running away but I really wish she was happy outside of this stupid family, for her final moments, I hope she was thinking that it was worth it and she passed without pain,"

Clover grasped the significance of her words. Despite finding himself without a home, Clover experienced a profound sense of liberation, feeling as though escaping was his sole recourse. The trauma inflicted by the enigmatic man in his peculiar establishment had cast a shadow over Clover's life, yet the notion of returning home never crossed his mind. Perhaps he grappled with the purpose of fleeing and contemplated the potential trajectory of his life had he not chosen to escape, but he remained resolute in never setting foot in the direction of his family's abode.

"I'm sure she found it liberating to find herself," Clover said quietly.

"When you ran away on your 20th," Michelle mentioned, "I was kind of...happy,"

"You were?"

"Because the look on my sister's face was priceless and I wanted to laugh at her the same way she laughed at me when my Ivy ran," Michelle had a distant look in her eyes but a smile on her face, "When Ivy was hurt, your mother couldn't have been more malicious,"

"My mother sounds like a witch," Clover admitted and he wasn't afraid to finally call her the words she deserved to be called.

"Clover, can I tell you something?" Michelle suddenly pushed her plate to the side, not even a bite of it was taken and she leaned over her table, "I think, your mother...killed her,"

"Huh?"

The very thought of it was unfathomable. Yet, the persistent rumours circulating at work had planted a seed of doubt in his mind. Even if he didn't fully believe them, the look in his aunt's eyes during their recent conversation spoke volumes. As he left her house, Clover's mind was reeling with shock and disbelief. The accusation against his mother was deeply disturbing, and he found himself grappling with the possibility that she could be capable of such a heinous act. It was a stark contradiction to everything their family stood for, and the idea that his mother could have committed such a serious crime and remained unpunished was difficult for Clover to comprehend. Was there any truth to these unsettling claims?

Clover walked his way to the company - he technically had 5 hours of work left even if his father let him go today. His mother played through his mind, trying to rationalise how she could do something like that. He had to find out himself but how?