The Things He Learned

On Unconditional Love

Aster had always thought of himself as a generous person, especially with his affections. From the very moment he was born into the world, he had so much of his heart to give, and, thank the stars, enough people to give to. His four older siblings and his parents, they'd never made him doubt himself, never made him question whether they deserved his unfettered love.

And then his mother went and got herself knocked up, 5 more times.

When he first laid eyes on the squabbling mess that everyone claimed was his new baby sister, he quite honestly thought there'd been a misunderstanding. Perhaps his mother picked up a swaddled, screaming mandrake by mistake, and his sister was actually still out there, peacefully sleeping, like how he thought a real baby should be doing. And throughout the first few days, he was adamant in this claim, hoping to at least get Shasta on his side, but his eldest brother was deceiving with his knowing gaze, and soon enough, at everyone's insistence, Aster dropped the suggestion of putting her up for adoption.

On her part, Magnolia remained clueless of her brother's scheming, which would have been a blessing, if it didn't also mean she was oblivious to his annoyance. He never really ventured very close to her, not since his first attempt, where he'd tried to touch her cheek, and she'd started crying, stubbornly continuing to do so throughout the whole night. It was the first time Aster got no sleep throughout an entire night, and afterwards, he started seeing himself more or less as a war veteran, trying his best to evade the enemy assailant's shrieks, shielding himself from the sudden loneliness of having the rest of his family's attention directed towards someone else. They didn't know the baby, she'd only just been born, but they all acted as though she was some princess, waiting at her beck and call (or, rather, at her sobs and wails). He didn't trust this sudden intruder, who simply went and stole his family from him.

Ok, so maybe he was being a bit melodramatic.

It was just hard to suddenly share everything with someone else. It wasn't like that with Shasta, or Iris, or Camelia or Redbud. They didn't scream the way the baby did, didn't keep him awake at night, and they didn't keep their already tired mom and dad awake. Magnolia was just different. Aster wasn't used to different.

To her credit, though, Magnolia was mighty cute, so he forgave her. Eventually.

And to be fair, Aster was happy Magnolia was his first contact with a baby. She taught him how to deal with baby-stuff. She practically held his hand while he graduated from babysitting academy. And then watched from the side-lines as he struggled to deal with his other small siblings, who were, if any of them ask, getting progressively worse.

Tulip ate paper. He ate it. And the worst thing was nobody even believed it. Like, the number of times Aster got called out for lying about "his little brother eating his homework" was frankly insulting. You'd think that ingesting so much knowledge would make Tulip a bit more self-aware, but no. He insisted on making school harder for Aster, incessantly. And then came Pansy. Small, sweet, violent Pansy. Pansy bit Aster. She really did. And she blamed him for stuff he didn't even do. One time, she ate a full cake, right in front of everyone, and still managed to convince their mom that Aster somehow put her up to it. To her credit, though, Pansy could also be incredibly entertaining, when she wanted to. She was a terrific dancer, that Pansy. And it was always funny to see almost all of Aster's other siblings do their best to stay out of the little girl's way. Especially Magnolia. Pansy couldn't stand overly effeminate Maggie, and the way she did everything elegantly. She could probably trip and fall in a puddle of mud and she'd still look beautiful doing it. Pansy hated every bit of it, and she hated it even more when her older sister tried to shove that same femininity down her throat. Their arguments were truly something to behold. Like a huge fire, or something. You know it's bad, but you just can't look away. Fortunately, in order to diffuse the ticking time bomb that were the two sisters in the same room, their mother made Daffodil, who, from an objective point of view, was endearing in his passion for magic tricks. But Aster knew better, because he felt the consequences of organising said tricks first-hand. Every time Daffodil announced a new "show", the family gathering obediently to witness his freshest attempt, Aster dreaded the disappearance of a beloved possession. First, he mourned the loss of his playing card set, remnants of which he just so happened to see in his little brother's grubby hands. Then, it was his favourite quill, the colours of which were last seen in Daffodil's first disappearing act. Aster sometimes kind of wished Daffodil would succeed in making himself disappear.