Forsaking Lilly

Chapter Eighteen

Sundays are never eventful, especially when you're in a new town.

Personally, I think the worst part of Sunday was waking up knowing that your weekend was over. I'd never been much of a Sunday person anyways. This was partially due to the fact that I wasn't a big church-goer and I wasn't prone to enjoying Sunday cleaning either. So, when I rolled over that morning and thought about starting my day, I was reluctant.

My room was dark for once, meaning that it was either early in the morning or that my mom hadn't come to bother me yet. My hand flew to my face, wiping sleep away so that I would be able to see without the nasty grains of exhaustion in the corners of my eyes. Moving quite sluggishly, I threw back the blankets and crawled out of my bed.

I took a quick look out of the french doors, just so that I could see the trees swaying in the wind. As it did every morning, the woods looked lone and majestic. The fall colored leaves swayed vibrantly in the moonlight, each leaf shimmering with a reflecting light of its own. I sighed, thinking of how I sometimes wished to be that beautiful. A familiar 'tinkling' occurred that distracted me away from my thoughts, bringing me back to the fact that I had to pee. Badly.

As I padded to the bathroom, I found myself humming a Rascall Flatts song that had played while Corrie and I danced the other night. I had no clue what the words were or what it was called, but I had the melody down ( Rather,as much of a song as a tone-deaf person can get down). The wood floor of the hallway was cool beneath my feet and I winced at its icy touch. Hurriedly, I rushed in the bathroom, finished my morning business, fixed my hair, and left.

In the hall again, I could hear my mother talking in the kitchen. Most times, I would have turned around and minded my business, but I couldn't help but creep towards the den at the sound of her conversation. Actually, it wasn't really the sound of the conversation. What drew me in was that she was speaking in a hushed tone, which was something my mother didn't do often.

As I got closer, the conversation became a little clearer to my ears.

" How did his funeral go, Marie? Oh...what flowers did they use?" Marie was my Father's only sister. She was two years older than him, with hair the color of copper. Hearing my mother say her name, I could almost see my aunt's beautiful brown eyes, I could almost smell her perfume. My arms wrapped around myself, suddenly losing all warmth.

My aunt Marie had lived right down the street from us, this was because her and my dad were really close and had always wanted to stay close together. So, technically I'd never been this far away from her.

" They used Anemone's and Calla Lilly's? It's what he would have wanted..No, no, I think she's doing fine. No, she's not as mad as she was at first. She's made friends, actually, and she's really doing well.....Of course she misses him, Marie. We'll always miss him." At that point of the conversation, I could no longer stand. Instead, I sat on the floor and drew my knees to my chest.

Raw, undiluted, pain ripped at the sides of my heart, making my eyes water at the strength of it. Tears that seemed to scorch my face with their acidic heat streaked down my cheeks as I tried to make sense of my mother's conversation.

It wasn't the mention of his death that hurt me, it was the choice in flowers. If I didn't know anything else, I knew flower meanings. The only reason that I did know was because of gardening with my aunt Marie. Gardening was always something that my father had done with my aunt when they were growing up, something they learned from their mother that she had learned from hers.

In the back of my head, I could still hear my aunt Marie's lecture she'd given me when she started teaching me to garden.

" Flowers are not just plants, Calla. They're living, breathing, things. Just like you and me,honey. So, just like humans, each one of them is different--- each one stands for something different. It's important that you know the meaning behind each one Calla, the knowledge can always lead you to great wealth."  I remember watching her with my young eyes while the wind blew her hair as she bent down to the earth, shoving her nose down into a patch of red carnations. I remembered all the curios questions that swarmed in my head, as I tried to decide on one to ask.