Flower Girl

Forty

"I'm not going to make this long, because I could disappear, and I need to get my message through to you before it's too late." As she spoke, Poire knew it was silly, but Bones seemed to shrink in on herself as she held her knees close to her chest. It reminded Poire of the first time she had come to the forest, and even though the woman standing before her had no skin, it was like looking at herself in the mirror and finally seeing her real face for the first time.

"You were a very sad adult, Poire," Bones said as she clasped her palms together. "I don't know why we never did anything about it, but it's like you were sinking and nobody could stop you from going into that dark, dark place."

"I didn't have any friends?"

"No." Bones shook her head. "You pushed them all to the other end of the world, thinking it was better to be alone after too many betrayals came your way."

"Well, that's not very nice," Poire said.

Bones laughed, for real this time. "Indeed, it's not," she said. "However, you didn't know any better, so I don't blame you; but I do hope that, even if you don't believe I used to be you, that at least the advice I will give you here will help you in your future endeavors. Anyway," she huffed, "you were alone. You spent a lot of time working a job you didn't like and coming home to a husband you loved even less."

Poire cringed internally. "Why in the world would I do that?" Her arms stiffened by her sides. "That sounds absolutely ridiculous. Who in their right mind would purposely go to places and people they despise?"

"But that's the thing, Poire," Bones said. "You weren't in your right mind. And if you don't do something now, I'm afraid history will repeat itself, and that you will end up just like I did."

"Is there any use in this, though?" Poire asked herself. "If I'm just going to end up, well, like a skeleton... What does it matter what life I've lived before if we all return to the soil eventually?"

"You do not want to be happy?"

"It seems like a lot of trouble," Poire said. "Plus, it's not guaranteed. Sadness, on the other hand, is definitely part of the total package you get when you're assigned the label of being human."

Bones glanced upward, causing Poire to follow. The snow had grown thicker, and even if it was long past dusk, the sky was a mixture of pale shades of gray and dirty whites. "Ah"—Bones smiled—"that's exactly the thoughts I had back then. It's weird to hear them again," she said before looking back to Poire once more. "I think that it's more trouble to be sad instead of happy, for both you and the people around you." She paused. "Poire?"

Poire glanced back to herself. "Yes?" she said, her voice soft, almost a whisper.

"I want you to remember that you aren't alone. That inside you, you carry the person who you will be in ten, twenty, thirty years. And that those people, who are waiting to bloom, would be very disappointed if you were to give up without having even tried. Because they want to see the light of day...even if right now, you don't."

The storm raged and grew louder.

"There's..." Poire made fists around the soaked material of her coat. "There's something I must ask you," she said. "May I?"

"Of course. But quickly. We are running out of time."

"How..." Poire made the effort to gulp, yet no saliva came. So, she settled for an in between—like she always did—a small and meaningless sound, less than a ripple in this universe. "How exactly did I die?" Poire asked Bones. "Was I old? Did I make a bad choice?"

"You killed yourself, Poire," Bones said.

Dumbfounded, Poire froze. "I—I'm sorry?" From inside her heart, she could feel her whole world crumbling apart.

"One day, you were very sick of who you had become, so you took your two children and dropped them off at a daycare center. You called in sick at work, called your sister to see her and her husband one final time. Of course, you didn't explain why. She believed your words when you claimed you were in the area for work. She had no reason to doubt you, because you never spoke of your issues to anyone but the lemur. And then when you said goodbye, and left their home, your husband called to know why the children weren't back yet. But you never got to talk to him, because he left a message, one you listened to in tears, because he scared you and deep down you knew it wasn't love. You knew that if you changed your mind and went back to your family, he would beat you in front of your kids as he did every time when you were late. So you—"

"So it was his fault that I died?" Poire blurted, her head hung low, her voice broken.

"I don't know if it's as easy as that," Bones said. "Sure, if he had taken good care of you, then perhaps you would have gotten better. But what if he were to leave or die first? You would have grown completely unstable again, and the outcome would have been the same, except your children—our children—would have been orphans."

"Then..." Poire paused, her fists turning white as her nails dug into her palms from the pressure. "What the heck was I supposed to do?" she asked Bones, stricken by the urge to cry, to scream, yet unable to do either of those things.

"How should I know?" Bones shouted as she rose and dashed toward Poire at full speed before grabbing the flower girl's shoulders and shaking her hard. "I failed," she said. "I can't give you advice on how to live, because I never knew how! I was stuck in something imaginary, and when I finally realized the damage I had done to myself, it was too late. I can't do anything but tell you what I did in hopes of knowing that you'll take it into account and not follow my steps. And I really, really want to tell you to not settle for second best and you'll be fine, Poire, but I know it's not so easy, and that when you're at your lowest you do want to settle because at that time it will make you feel better. But..."

Bones released Poire's shoulders and dropped to her knees. She pressed her hands to the front of her skull and whimpered, "Please, remember that in the long run, second best will hurt you. Second best will kill you. I don't want us to be second best anymore." She grabbed Poire's palms between her own and squeezed them once. Looking at Poire's head of petals, she said, "So please, Poire, open your eyes. Open your heart. Nobody will save you. Only you have the power to leave this place."