by Holt, Leah
Staying crouched in the stalks, I watched her as she walked towards her house. Her father and mother were pacing back and forth on the front porch as a police officer was writing down notes in a small notebook.
There were some people I recognized from town standing around the yard, they were members of her father's church, with worried faces, ready to spring into action to help.
Holding her head high, Blue walked out into the open. Her mother looked up, blocking the sun with one hand. Cupping her mouth, she darted off the deck, jogging to her daughter, and reaching out to yank her in.
I could see Blue talking, her mother listening intently as her father came to her side with a look of relief on his face. But that relief didn't last as anger swept in, causing his arms to flail over his head and his lips to turn down into a harsh frown.
It was hard to make out what he was saying, his voice was lost in the wind that blew in the opposite direction. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear him anyway. He was probably cussing about me in the nicest, most sinless way a pastor could.
Everyone else was hugging each other, smiling and wiping tears away from their eyes. The police officer gave them a few minutes, finally stepping to the huddled family so he could jot down her story and close his case.
Blue kept her eyes on the ground, simply nodding with each word he said. Her mother stood by her side, wrapping her arms around her waist and holding her tightly as the gravity of the situation was still too much to process.
Her father threw his hand up, pointing to the door. Looking over her shoulder briefly, Blue hung her head and went inside. Gregory followed her gaze, searching the cornfield for what she was looking at.
Dropping down lower, I pressed my palms into the dirt, doing my best to stay hidden. I wasn't sure what story she had told, or how many details she may have left out for my own safety.
Blue's father squinted, his eyes trying to pierce through the field. “Stay away from her! You here me?” Baring his teeth, he took deep breaths, his nostrils flaring wide. “Stay away from my daughter!”
Ducking, I forced my face into the ground, unsure if he had spotted me in the slew of leaves. But as I watched him, his eyes scanned from side to side, looking above, behind, and in front of where I actually was, the police officer put a hand on his shoulder and said something to him.
He can't see me.
Turning, her father walked backwards, his brows angrily dipped into the bridge of his nose as thick lines creased his forehead. “I'm warning you! Stay away from her!”
I waited until no one was outside, long enough for anyone who might have been watching out the window to lose interest and wander off.
Crawling through two inches of loose soil and dried up leaves, I backed away from her house on my hands and knees. Once I felt I was far enough away, I climbed to my feet and headed home.
There was no way for me to know how long it would be before I saw Blue again. But I would try every single day, not missing a chance to see the girl I loved.
Young love was a crazy thing. It invaded your brain, it spread over your body and through every blood vessel, every muscle strand, every inch of your being.
I thought about her when I was awake, she was in my dreams while I slept. There wasn't a second that went by where Blue didn't find her way into my thoughts. Young love was the innocent version of stalking to put it bluntly.
But I truly loved her and she truly loved me. We were inseparable.
Even then, after her father grounded her for the summer, I found the perfect spot in the cornfield where she could see me from her bedroom window. She'd write me little notes on a white board and I would try to read them from where I was with a pair of old binoculars I had found in our attic.
I know I didn't get all of her messages right, but it didn't matter, because we still had each other, the space between us didn't change a thing.
Our love was real.
Chapter Seven
Jayden
Eighteen Years Old
“Which one do you think?” I asked the woman behind the counter.
Kitty Dawners, master of greenery, queen of the bloom, she was the only florist this side of the county that didn't need to use grow chemicals to make her flowers pop.
“Well, that depends. What's the occasion?” Walking out from behind the counter, she circled the display. Touching a red rose, she smiled and said, “Red is for love.” Her finger swept across the petal, landing on a yellow rose. “This one is for friendship.”
Smiling, Kitty moved across her hand-picked beauties, gently touching one at a time. Scanning the tops, she studied them, eventually plucking a yellow cluster of flowers out. Lifting it to her face, she pressed the showy flower heads to her nose.
“What's that one?”
“This is a yarrow flower, it means everlasting love.” Leaning her hip against the shelf, she teased the leaves on its stem. “So, tell me, what is it you're trying to say to this girl?”
“Who said it's a girl?”
“Who else would you be giving flowers to?”
“My grandmother, my sister maybe.”
“They're not girls?” Cocking a brow, Kitty smirked. “Because I'm pretty sure your grandmother and sister are girls, unless I'm missing something.”
Grinning, I shrugged a shoulder. “I want to say something special.”
“To who? Your sister or your grandmother?”
“Neither.”
Her eyes darted over the flowers, plucking lone stems from fat vases. Taking her handful of flowers, she went over to a long table and spread them out. “These aren't just flowers you know, they hold meaning. It's floriography.”
“Flori-what?”
Arranging the flowers, Kitty cut the stems, then began to wrap the bouquet in a sheet of silver paper. “It basically means flower writing. The flowers you pick should be more than just pretty colors, they should say exactly what you want to say.” Angling her head, she lifted the flowers. “Do you know what you're saying with these?”
Shaking my head, I said, “I have no idea, I've never bought flowers before.” Taking a step forward, I tucked my hands into my pockets. “And I never knew it was so complicated.”
“Which means buying them now has a special purpose, and it's not just to wish her a happy birthday.” Her lips pulled back tight as she licked them in thought. “Unless it's her birthday, is it her birthday?”
“No, it's not her birthday.”
“Good, that means I got the right message here for you.” Tying a bright pink ribbon around the bundle, she held up the bouquet and passed it to me. Pointing at a white flower that looked like a starfish, she said, “White Jasmine, they stand for sweet love.” Sweeping her finger across the cluster, she pointed at a pink flower in the back. “Morning Glory, that's for affection.”
Kitty had put together a masterpiece of petals that were not only beautiful, but they said exactly what I felt about Blue.
Red roses for love, calla lilies for beauty, ivy for friendship, heliotrope for eternal love. It was all the words I couldn't speak freely. I had told Blue I loved her, but saying it just didn't seem like enough.
They were just words when you really thought about it. Words that meant nothing to most people. It seemed like anyone would say they loved someone else. For shit's sake, I once heard the girl working at the grocery store tell a customer she loved them because they told her her hair looked nice.
It shouldn't be that easy, it should never be that easy. I had written off love long before I knew exactly what it meant to feel it. Now, I took those words seriously, and I wanted to show Blue just how serious I was.
Holding the incredible bundle of fresh flowers, I smiled. The bouquet was perfect, and for the first time in years, I felt like I knew where my life was going. I had been saving for years to get out of this shitty town once I turned eighteen.
Secretly, I stowed away every ounce of cash I had made, found, and earned since I was old enough to understand the value of
money. And I was more than willing to use that money for the girl I loved.
“This is perfect, how much?”
“Take them, they're yours.”
“What? No, I can't do that. How much?”
Resting her hand on mine, she smiled. “Sweetheart, take the flowers.” Moving her hand over a small book, she turned the page. Kitty's lips were moving soundlessly as she mouthed the words she was reading. Stopping, she looked up at me. “Go, go give her the flowers. They won't live forever in that paper.”
“Thank you, thank you so much.” Starting for the door, I looked back over my shoulder and thanked her again. “She's going to love these.”
“Of course she is.” Winking, Kitty's smile grew. “But, she's going to love you a whole lot more than those flowers.”
Walking down the sidewalk, I held the flowers tight as I kept my head down. Kicking a single rock, I kept moving it along with me, step after step. The small rock rolled, bobbling over smaller pebbles and dips in the road.
I was inside my own head, excited and nervous to see Blue and give her the flowers. No one had ever held a place in my heart like her. She had become my everything. My past, my present, and my future.
Most would say what we had was first time love, that it was young love, a love that would always be remembered but would never last.
To all of those people, I'd say you're wrong. This was different, it was real. I could feel her in my bones, in every ounce of my being.
Betty-Sue Fable would be my wife some day.
“Whatcha doin, Boy?” His voice shrieked in my ear, causing my shoulders to jerk up.
Glancing to my left, my father was driving slowly beside me, rolling at the speed I was walking. He had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, the butt end being held in place by saliva on his bottom lip.
His hands were covered in black grease, his shirt streaked with long sweeping lines of dark brown oil. I could tell he had been working on his car, which wasn't out of the ordinary. My father's car was a piece of shit because he would rather spend his money on liquor than buy something new.
Tapping his thumb against the wheel, my father watched me with this look on his face. I wasn't sure what it was; disgust, hatred, a little bit of both. Sucking on the end of his cigarette, he lifted his fingers to his lips and plucked it free.
Turning forward, I didn't answer him. He didn't deserve an answer. I was old enough now to ignore him, to brush off his authority. He couldn't threaten me with a damn thing, because I wasn't going to be there much longer.
“I'm speaking to you, Boy, didn't you hear me?” Flicking the cigarette at me, it bounced off my side and fell to the ground.
Stopping in my tracks, I stepped on the lit end to smother it. “I heard you just fine.”
“Then answer.”
“What do you want?” I asked, highly annoyed.
“You better watch that tone with me.” Holding out his finger, he pointed. “Don't think I won't kick your ass right here if I need to.”
Focusing on the rock again, I squeezed the stems of the bouquet and kicked it even harder, sending it flying down the sidewalk. “And I asked you what you want?”
My father's eye twitched as the vein in his forehead began to pulse. “Did you forget who you're talking to? Is that what this is?”
Stopping, I twisted to face him, my fingers coiling like an angry snake around the flowers. “Since when do you care what I'm doing?”
The brakes squealed as the car jerked to a stop. Standing still, I raised my head higher, refusing to cower to the man who supplied me life. Because that's all he was, he was the sperm that gave me a heartbeat, and nothing more.
There once was a time where I feared him, when I was too small to protect myself, too little to do anything to make him stop. But not now, even if he beat me black and blue, I wasn't afraid. He lost that power a long time ago.
Throwing the door open, he jumped out of the car, and stormed over to me on the sidewalk. Pressing the tips of his toes against mine, he lowered his face, baring his teeth. “You've always liked fucking with me.” Grinding his teeth, he splashed my face with spit as he growled. “Do you think you're a big man now?”
I could smell his signature alcohol on his breath, his eyes filled with liquid haze as he glared at me like I was nothing more than a stray dog, an animal he had taken in that didn't deserve to be loved or cared for.
“What do you want?” I asked again, my voice low, but firm.
Nudging me with his chest, I felt his eyes as they moved down my arm. “What's this?” he asked, grabbing the flowers quickly from my hand. “Who are these for? That pretty little rich whore of yours?”
“Don't call her that, or—”
“Or what? What are you going to do?” Taking a step back, my father smiled as he smelled the flowers. “Do you think she'll fuck you if you give her these?”
“Screw you,” I said under my breath as I watched him pluck a flower free and drop it to the ground.
“I get it, you want the bitch to let you deflower her, don't you?” Lifting his heavy boot, he crunched the flower under his toe, grinding it into the pavement.
Thwack!
Letting my fist go, I punched him in the mouth. That was the first and only time I had ever hit my father. Not that I didn't want to do it a million different times before, but he had always been so much bigger than me. Today I realized that I was looking him in the eye, that we stood head to head.
“I fucking hate you!” Yelling at the top of my lungs, I clenched my fists, digging the dull edges of my nails into my palms.
Wiping his mouth, my father licked the blood from his lip with a smirk on his face. “You had your one,” he said with a sick grin on his face, “but you'll never do that again.” With a loaded back hand, he cracked me across the cheek.
As if his hands were attached to a mechanical re-loader, my father struck over and over again. Hit after hit, punch after punch, and all I did was watch in shock as the flowers I had bought were thrown to the ground and crushed by his feet. He didn't try to avoid them, he didn't care that they were there, he just kept striking.
A lot that happened directly after was a little bit of a blur. I remember the feeling of his knuckles on my eye, and his fingers in my hair as he tugged my head back to get a clear shot. I can vaguely remember a car pulling over and people getting out, rushing over to try and break us up.
I could see my father's face as the rage poured from his pores like black fire. I had finally done the unthinkable, I had stood up for myself in a way he never expected.
His face was contorted, twisting up and flaring down as he tried to break free from the men holding him back. I remembered looking back at the ground and trying to bend over to pick up what flowers were left that weren't too damaged.
After that all I had were spurts of memories. The red and blue of lights from police cars, the siren of the ambulance, a woman hovering over me as she put an IV in my arm and listened to my chest.
The cold, sterile air of a hospital as it filled my lungs came after, and the multicolored uniforms of nurses and doctors as they poked and prodded at my body. There were voices and buzzing from x-rays, and the constant beep of the monitor at my side.
But the one thing that stood out the most was how I felt; I felt happy, I felt proud, I finally felt like he knew that I wasn't his damn pin cushion to prick and stab when he felt like it.
I felt like a real man.
Laying in that hospital bed, I smiled, drifting off to sleep to have pleasant dreams for the first time since before my mother passed away.
I slept through the night. I slept without worry and fear. I slept peacefully.
Because he was behind bars and my sister was safe.
We were both safe.
Chapter Eight
Jayden
I felt a light pressure against my forehead and the warmth of a hand as it ran down the side of my face.
“Wake up, Jayden.” Her voice was a di
stant whisper in my ear, soft and gentle.
Blue? Is that my Blue bird?
Opening my eyes, the light from above was blinding for a moment, but only a moment. Blue leaned over, her shadow dimming the brightness, her smile weak but perfect all the same.
“Are you alright?” she asked, taking a seat next to me on the bed. “I heard what happened, I came as soon as I could.” Brushing the tips of her fingers across my jaw, she cupped my face, her eyes filled with terror.
Taking her hand, I pulled it away from my face and placed it on my chest. Pushing up in the bed, I gave her a half smile. “I'm fine, it's not that bad.”
“Not that bad? Gee, that's not something I've heard before.” Her mouth hung open, brows scrunched up tight against her hairline. “He's your father, I get it, but he shouldn't have done this to you, he should never put his hands on you like this.”
“I'm fine, Blue.” Taking her hand, I squeezed firmly to reassure her. “I need you trust what I say.”
“Fine—” she scoffed and rolled her eyes, pulling her hand away. “You're always fine.”
Picking myself up higher, I sat tall. “Because I am.”
“Oh yeah, is being fine how you ended up with a black eye, a broken nose, two busted ribs, and a fracture in your cheek bone?”
“No,” I said with a grin. “Being fine is having you next to me right now.” Looking over at the small nightstand at my side, I signaled the nurse who was writing in my chart as she stood by the window. “Can you. . .” Nodding toward the table, she smiled and agreed, walking over and opening the draw.
Blue watched the nurse, her eyes following her as she reached into the draw. “What is she doing?”
Not answering, I waited for the nurse to pull the small bundle out of the draw and hand it to me. “I got you something,” I said, holding out the flowers I had been able to salvage.
Blue took the flowers, her eyes darting between the flowers and me. “You bought me flowers?” Her fingertips softly touched the mangled petals, causing one to drop free and fall onto her lap.
