Memories in Flowers

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

This was a nightmare — a complete nightmare. How could Dad do this to me? He knew Aiden and I never got along. My brothers always teased us about it. They always said that I had a crush on Aiden, and I was trying to hide it by being indifferent to him. Everyone in the house knew that wasn't true. He 'd had a big mouth for as long as I could remember. To him, it was better to get on the good side of Dad and my brothers than me. He was loyal, but he chose who to be loyal to. From the day he barged into my room and found out my secret, I knew then he wasn't someone I could trust.

It was one fateful day when I got back with a flower I'd gotten for free when I had walked past Mrs Pots' Garden. I was seven then. Nearly a year had passed since I'd found out about my ability. I was still too young and didn't know what to do with it. All I knew was that it made me special, and I wanted to explore and find out the extent of it. I couldn't get much practice because the flowers at the parks were only what I could get my hands on, so I took every opportunity I could get, hoping for freebies and stuff like that, or when I had extra savings and I could get myself a flower. I was just sitting there quietly on my bed with the red rose when Aiden opened the door to my room without so much as a knock.

Okay, fine, maybe he had and I hadn't heard it because I was concentrating too hard on the images playing out in front of me, but still.

"What are you doing?"

My eyes snapped open. He was standing there by the doorway with a frown.

I blinked once, then felt my cheeks and ears burn when I finally understood the situation. "Nothing." If I'd known the term 'meditating' then, I would have been able to get rid of him, but my young self didn't know it, so that was as good an excuse as it could get.

"I always see you touching the flowers when we go to the park, too."

"Like I said, it's nothing. What you doing up here anyway?"

He didn't relent. "You're hiding something, aren't you?"

"Very funny, Aiden, of course I'm not."

"I'm going to tell."

My heart raced, panicking even though there wasn't a reason to. I was merely touching a flower. What was so wrong about it? I was starting to calm when I realised it was important. Mom liked flowers too. They'd think something was wrong with me.

He'd done just that, though. I couldn't stop him. By the time I'd headed down, everyone in the kitchen and living room were looking at me with sympathy. From then on, I hated Aiden. I felt I should actually be grateful though. Were it not for him, I wouldn't have been able to let my family know I had an obsession with flowers, and I wouldn't have been able to start my collection. I tried to convince them that it was a sudden interest, and over the years, thankfully, they believed it. My mother had never been much of a flower collector — not so much as me, that is. All she bought was enough to create her own arrangement in a vase for the coffee table in the living room. Gradually, the hype over my love for flowers fell. You'd think the sympathy would disappear as well, but it didn't.

So here I was, standing rigid and unfeeling beside Aiden as we saw Dad off for his trip. It was about six a.m.. The morning was a little chilly, having rained the night before, and Aiden and I had put on sweaters of our own as we were sensitive to the cold.

Dad stood by the door with his luggage, dressed comfortably in a shirt and bermudas. When our eyes met, I looked away, still angry with the betrayal. He sighed, then turned to Aiden.

"I'm leaving her in your hands."

Aiden nodded reassuringly with a smile. "Have you brought your neck pillow?"