Silhouette of a Wilted Flower

Clues

Silent plips of tears fall onto the glass.

She wiped them off the photo and then swiped the same hand uselessly against her cheek. She let out another quiet sniffle.

Tightening a trembling grip on the stem, she tipped back her head and swallowed the last wine dregs. The warmth spreading from her throat and settling in her with heat did nothing to quell the radiating ache. It barely did anymore.

She placed the glass on the counter next to the bottle, which had become half-empty a bit too fast for her liking.

Sunlight glared through the window, reminding her it was too early for the three glasses she had. She rubbed her face, fingers cold where they touched sticky skin and a fizzing head, tongue sluggish and clogging in her mouth.

The framed photo in her lap stared. A baby face, fresh and round, framed by long black hair. Eyes disappointed and piercing. Oh, her baby...her only daughter...

She made a conscious effort to blink. Eyelids dragged over heavy stones in her skull. Everything stung as her throat choked again, and boiling tears joined others on the smiling framed face.

M̶a̶r̶i̶ stood in the park. Smile wide and toothy. Arms splayed, demonstrating the world to a baby in a stroller. Head turned over her shoulder. Thick hair flying in the breeze, frozen in the moment. Her only daughter...and now...

Dry eyes crawled to the stroller in the corner. She ran her tongue over chapped lips as she saw it. Chubby little hands peered out underneath the stroller's canopy, reaching toward the dancing girl.

The dancing girl was gone.

They...they needed a change. She couldn't carry on like this. She couldn't...let him carry on like this–

The stairs creaked. Her head snapped up, body rigid, as she strained for more sound. Another slow creak followed, and she got to work fast.

She slipped the wine bottle into the fridge, hidden behind inconspicuous almond and soy milk bottles. The photo landed in the junk drawer, temporarily hidden from view. Into the sink went her glass.

Sunny appeared in the kitchen doorway, but by then, she was fresh-faced, tears long gone, busy washing the dishes. She glanced over her shoulder. The sun coming through the window lingered, and the shadows cast on him pronounced the strange darkness of his eyes. She forced her own eyes away from them.

"Honey!" She screwed on a smile. Put a pep in her talk. Placing the wine glass on the drying rack, she wiped her hands dry and leaned against the counter. "You're up. Are you hungry? Do you want me to make you a snack?"

She stared at his forehead instead of his eyes. Even while not meeting them, she could see how they slid over her. Like he didn't see her. Like she wasn't even there.

He stayed where he was in the doorway, gaze moving slowly over the kitchen. The smile felt strange on her mouth.

Finally, one dragging step after another, he trudged to the cabinets and got out a cereal box—the Captain Space-io's, he always seemed to like so much.

She pulled her face more taut. "Right, right. You're a big boy now! You don't need Mommy to make you grilled cheeses anymore."

Sunny opened the fridge. The quiet hum of its fan drifted as he stared and stared until selecting the cow's milk–the almond and soy milk left alone.

"So, anyway! Honey, remember that restaurant we always used to go to?" Before M̶a̶r̶i̶... "The one that made the steak you liked so much. I was thinking...Why don't we pay it a visit again?"