Darling Clementine

Six

“Did you get it?” Vivian asked as soon as I waltzed through the entrance to the flower shop. She was working on an arrangement of blue azaleas, her hair pinned out of her face, a pink apron tied around her waist.

I nodded and threw the book on the table beside her. It landed with a loud thud and Vivian flinched. She looked down at the book then back up at me, her eyes stone hard. “I was going to say thank you, but I sense some attitude.” She turned away from me and carefully added some weed looking accent to the bouquet. “Is there something you want to say to me?”

“Actually yes, there is.” I jeered. “Why is it out of all the electives you could have enrolled me in, you chose Orchestra?”

“This is what you’re upset about?” She scoffed, not even bothering to look up. “Honestly Clementine,” She sighed pulling down the petals of a small azalea bud.

“Yes, I’m upset.” I sneered. “I don’t play violin anymore, and you knew that.”

She didn’t answer me, her thin lips straight, and her eyes bored as she continued to arrange her stupid vase of flowers.

I approached the table and leaned my neck over, trying to catch her attention. “Well, don’t you have something to say?” I demanded.

“No.” She responded flatly. “I think it’s stupid you’re upset if that’s what you want to hear.”

“No, that isn’t what I want to hear.” I spat, my tone harsh and gravely. “I can’t believe you Vivian.”

Vivian slid the vase of flowers away from her, turned away from the table―away from me―and rinsed her hands under a sink. “Y’know, if you want to complain, complain to your dad. It was his idea, not mine.” She scorned. “I don’t have time for your childish grievances. I have work to do.”

My eyes widened, then just as quickly, narrowed. She talked to my Dad? “You talked to my dad?” I demanded, my arm felt heavy and I was beginning to get that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. “When?” My tongue felt dry.

“When I was enrolling you in your classes,” She said turning off the faucet. She kept her back to me.

“And you didn’t tell me?!” I couldn’t stop the small screech in my words as I stomped towards her.

“I thought you didn’t care?” Vivian turned around, her eyes still uninterested, her red lips still straight.

I took a step back and lowered my eyes to my feet. “I don’t.” I muttered, scratching at my arm.

“Then I don’t see why we are having this conversation.” She uttered, leaning against the table. Her brown eyes softened and she ran her long wrinkled fingers back through her silvery pony tail. “We thought that it would be good for you to begin playing again.” She sounded surprisingly earnest.  “We thought maybe it could help.”

I didn’t know what idea Vivian and my dad had that would think shoving me back into Orchestra would help me, or in the least make me happy. I hadn’t played the violin since my mom died. And after she died, I never wanted to play again. “Help?” I mocked. “If you think me playing violin again is going to help me―as you so put it― then you thought wrong.”  I shook my head, and bit down hard on my bottom lip. “My problems started way before I stopped playing.”

“You have one semester of school left. You think it would kill you to be in Orchestra for a few months?” She demanded.

“That’s not the point!” I shouted, slamming my fist down on a nearby counter.