Flowers Only Bloom in the Spring

Chapter 2

There was a distant knocking pulling Helena from her slumber. It was soft and almost sounded as if it was a figment of her imagination. Her eyes moved wildly behind her eyelids as she transitioned from sleep to awake and she was not happy about that. She felt exhausted and wanted to stay in the perfect world of the unconscious realm. She made a soft grunt as she shifted in her bed and pulled herself into a tighter ball. She made another noise of annoyance as she slowly opened her eyes at the feeling of a hand on her shoulder. Luckily the room was only lit by the soft orange and red glow of the setting sun, allowing her eyes to adjust easily as she opened them more. She looked over her shoulder and up at her father's dark silhouette standing over her, his warm hand moving to wrap around the top of her arm as he spoke in a soft hush, "Hel...dinner."
She made another noise of acknowledgment before turning back to her pillow and snuggling into it for a second, her father's light huff making her groan in response. "I'll be down in a minute."
"One minute." Her father repeated in a stern but still hushed voice. The sound of him leaving her room and shutting her door made her sigh in relief. Usually he just left the door open and it annoyed her to no end--he was finally catching on after years of her asking him to shut the door as he tried to walk away.
She lay there in silence for a few more seconds, slowly adjusting to the waking world. Reaching up she rubbed at her eyes before staring out the same window she had been looking at as she fell into her nap. She looked out at the distant tree line, a yawn escaping her before she moved to sit up and stretch. She huffed and swung her legs over the bed to place her sock covered feet on the cool hardwood floor of her room. She wiggled her toes a bit before leaning down to stretch her back out a bit more before pushing herself to her feet. Reaching down to her bedside table, she switched on the small lamp that was on the surface and rooted around in the small drawer for a hair tie. Finding one, she pulled her hair up into a messy bun with another yawn leaving her. She hummed out in tiredness before going to her bag and pulling out the emergency contact info that she needed her father to fill out and sign.
Leaving her room she walked across the hall, flipping on the bathroom light and moved to the sink. Staring at her sleepy reflection, she leaned down to hold the slip of paper between her knees tightly so as not to drop it to the floor and turned on the cool water. She leaned over the porcelain sink and splashed cold water on her face to help wake her up more. With her eyes still shut, she reached to the left of her for the dark red hand towel that hung from the bolted rack and patted her face with it. Standing erect again, she dried off her hands then turned off the water. She placed the towel back in its proper place, leaning down enough to grab the form so she could head down stairs to the kitchen.
The smell of Italian dressing permeated the downstairs, making Helena's stomach grumble in hunger. She placed a hand on her stomach trying to silence the offensive gurgling with her free hand as she passed over the threshold of the hall to the kitchen--the smell of cooked chicken with vegetables and tomatoes along with the dressing became stronger. She watched quietly as her father moved about the kitchen effortlessly, turning to see the table already set up with two dinner plates, two sets of silverware, a freshly made salad, two empty glasses, napkins and a few different types of salad dressing with several choices of salad toppings. She looked back to her father as she heard his gasp and his grumbling.
"Shit!" He hissed under his breath, his hands gripping at the plastic coated pan handle, the wooden spatula in his other poised in a way that he had a moment of thought to smack her with it. "Why do you always feel the need to do that?"
"Do what?" Helena asked, her face impassive as ever.
"Scare the piss out of me!" Her father spat. He narrowed his eyes as he saw her glance down to the floor for a second then back to his face, "It's a figure of speech. Don't be a smart ass."
"Better than being a dumb ass." She shot back, moving around him to the refrigerator to find them something to drink, placing the form on the small, empty counter to the right of the appliance. "I need you to fill this out and sign out. It's an emergency contact sheet for school."
"I'll do it after dinner." He muttered as he began to place a piece of marinated chicken with some roasted cherry tomatoes, yellow peppers, onions, baby red potatoes and asparagus on each of their plates.
"Okay." Helena said simply as she returned to the table with a jug of homemade raspberry lemonade, pouring some in each of their glasses. Grabbing the pan handle from her father safely, as not to burn either of them, she returned the pan to the turned off stove top, before replacing the jug back into the cooler. Walking to her seat, she slid into it easily, pulling one knee up so that her foot rested on the edge of the chair and her shin rested on the edge of the table. Her father gave her a look and she sighed as she moved so that she pulled both her legs up on the chair in an "Indian" style. She grabbed for her fork and knife and quietly cut into the chicken on her plate, bringing a forkful up to her lips and gently blowing on it to cool it a bit before putting it in her mouth and chewing slowly. She glanced up at her father as she felt his expectant gaze. Her face didn't show any signs of--well anything and he gave her a more pointed look. She finished chewing and swallowed, "It's good."
"Great!" Her father said cheerily before cutting into his own food and shoveling it in.
There was a long moment of silence, other than the sounds of them cutting their food, or drinking before her father cleared his throat, glancing up at his daughter, "Speaking of school..." He started as he brought a piece of chicken to his lips but held it there as he finished his question, "how was your first day?" He shoved the piece of meat between his lips and chewed as he stared at the younger Holland family member.
"Fine I guess." Helena answered in a hollow way. She pushed at the vegetables on her plate a bit, not meeting his gaze.
"Make any friends?" He asked before filling his mouth with more food. His intense stare never breaking from her face.
"Who makes friends on their first day?" Helena asked rhetorically. Her father cleared his throat, of course he was going to spat out some story about 'Back in my day...' blah, blah, blah.
"When I was your age, I met my best friend the first day of school. Hell it was before school even started. We shared the same bus stop." He spat out happily, a shine of remenense in his eyes. "That's great Dad." She huffed out a bit sarcastically. Her father either didn't notice the tone or didn't care and continued on about his glory days. She pushed and pulled at the food on her plate as he droned on and on, slowly driving her mad. She finally looked up at him, a heated look in her eyes despite the lack of emotion she showed on the rest of her face. "Things are different now." She cut him off, unable to hear more of his 'happiest days of his life' anymore. "Oh right..." Her father waved her off with his fork, "I forgot people don't like to talk face to face anymore. You kids got your facetubes, youbooks and your texting." Helena gave him a pointed look and he gave her a cheeky smile, before pointing to her dish in a lazy way, "Eat your food. You're not allowed to fill up on junk food."
Helena shifted in her chair a bit and did as she was told, not wanting to deal with her father's guilt tripping if she said she wasn't hungry. She finished half of the chicken breast and all of her vegetables at least before gulping down the rest of her drink before giving him a look and he waved her off, allowing her to excuse herself. She took her plate to the counter next to the sink, fished around for a small plastic bag, putting her chicken in it and placing it in the refrigerator to be eaten the next day for lunch. She walked back to the sink, rinsing off her plate, silverware and her glass out before placing them in the empty dishwasher just to the right of the sink, under the rest of the counter. Going back to the cooler box, she grabbed for the raspberry lemonade once more, refilled her father's glass, put it back then completely excused herself to her room--she had homework to complete.