by Ruth Morse
“If she already wants to kill you, it wouldn’t matter if you reschedule. You’ll be dead anyway.” Mom winked at me, smiling. “Just don’t forget to apologize. I know she’ll understand. Today is a family day.”
***
The modest greenhouse of the Lakewood Botanical Garden was crowded with people who didn’t know a bit about plants but were eager to busy themselves with learning. The greenhouse wasn’t ready for such an influx of visitors. A narrow path where people walked, stepping on each other’s toes, wound between shelves filled with orchids. It seemed like everybody decided to be avid gardeners this Saturday.
I waited for Mom to finish examining an orchid. It attracted people from all corners of the greenhouse with its pure white color and fully expanded petals. White Phalaenopsis Orchid was written on the sign.
Dad stood next to us, his back leaning against the stand. His gaze wandered over the passersby; he pursed his lips every time his eyes found enthusiastic smiles on people’s curious faces.
A young couple appeared at the opposite side of the stand, holding their daughter by her raincoat sleeves. The little girl led her parents away from the white orchid. She was pointing her finger at the orange orchid in the farthest corner. It wasn’t as popular as the white one; people passed it without even noticing. A sly smile played on girl’s lips.
When they reached the desired flower, her father lifted her and put her on the shelf so she could touch the orchid. But she didn’t do it. She looked at it closely instead. Her hand stretched forward slowly, but then recoiled, her eyebrows rising high and her hands pressing together on her chest. For a moment she stared at the petals, puzzled, then opened her mouth and blew on the flower gently.
Intrigued, I wanted to see what stopped her from touching the orchid. I nearly crossed the path, but two moms with crying babies in strollers got in my way. I was stuck. I had to wait till the two women stopped yelling at confused people who didn’t make enough space for strollers to pass. When I managed to get out, there was no one next to the ginger orchid. The family was gone and as much as I tried to find the little girl, there was no way I could possibly do it—the crowd was insane. I returned to my parents.
“Where have you been?” Dad asked me, turning away from Mom.
“Near the ginger orchid. It’s beautiful,” I said.
Dad nodded. He opened his mouth to say something, but then a stout man passing by stepped on his foot, not even acknowledging Dad’s crimson face. Dad winced. It was the last straw.
“Martha, for God’s sake, let’s get out of here! I can’t breathe in this place. What are these people even doing here? Morons!”
“It was your idea to go to the greenhouse, Tom,” Mom said, her fingers nervously plucking at the orchid catalog in her hands.
“I know. And it’s my idea to get out of here now!”
“If you hate flowers, why did you even come here?” Mom demanded.
Dad crossed his arms over his chest and exhaled noisily through his mouth. I sighed. He always took that pose when he was about to explode. Following my thoughts, he raised his voice. “I wanted to please you, you know! Ain’t families supposed to go somewhere together on the weekends?”
Mom put the orchid catalog away and faced Dad. “If you want to please me, then do it! Until this moment, you’ve done nothing but poison my day with that forever-bored look on your face. You don’t even pretend to enjoy it!” she said with iron in her voice.
Dad swore loudly. “I’m done with this, Martha. I’m going home. Are you coming with me?”
Mom paused. She glanced at Dad, her mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out of it. Dad swore again. I lowered my head. I knew that kind of fight crystal clear: he pushed her to make the decision he wanted her to make and even if she didn’t mind acting that way at first, she hesitated. She didn’t want to look weak by being forced by Dad, yet she didn’t want to let him down either. He took her silence as a lack of support and voila! There you have it!
Dad threw his hands up in the air and roughly pushed people to get out of sight. Mom took a deep breath. I glanced at her. She looked calm, relieved even. Maybe she didn’t mind staying alone after all. I was with her too, though, but she didn’t seem to notice.
I came back to the orange orchid. Clamped in the corner between its bigger sisters, it was small, inconspicuous. Its dark red petals spiraled and twisted, casting shade on a delicate pink sack in the center of the flower. I looked at that little orchid so intently as if it held an important secret and was willing to share it with me. But the orchid remained silent. I glanced at the sign.
“Hello, Lady’s Slipper. I’m sorry you’re alone here. Aren’t you bored?” I asked.
The orchid swung its petals peacefully. I felt sudden tears come to my eyes. Before I could handle it, two tears dripped onto the orchid and rolled down its petals. I wiped my face. It was time to get out.
I couldn’t find my mom, so I went out to the street assuming she must have gone outside for the fresh air.
People had already begun leaving; parents grabbed their crying children and put them into cars while young couples hurried to take taxis and go to some party elsewhere. Everybody seemed to be relieved that they could finally take a deep breath without smelling someone else’s sweat. It was getting darker. Twilight ascended gently along the street. I looked around, but Mom was nowhere to be found.
I walked down to the parking lot and then stopped, not believing my eyes. Mom’s car was gone. Maybe Dad took it, I thought but then sorrowfully smiled. Mom was driving on the way here, and I didn’t notice Dad take her keys, which meant only one thing: they actually left. Both of them. I pulled out my phone. No calls. No messages.
My hands were trembling a little when I typed, Are you busy?
Mel called me in a second. “Hey, you little traitor! You have to tell me something nice or I’ll egg your house after all!”
Her cheerful voice made me feel a little better. “I know you won’t. Listen, I’m in the botanical garden right now. Could you give me a ride home?”
Mel paused. When she replied, her voice was still optimistic but had a much lower tone to it. “Sure. I’m on my way.”
I sat down on the curb in front of the greenhouse. Only a few couples remained in the street. Soon a car drove up and they ran toward it, telling jokes and laughing on their way. The parking lot became empty. Gray clouds floated in the sky, obscuring the setting sun. I felt tired.
A car fit into the turn and stopped sharply, blinding me with its headlights. Mel’s head appeared through the car’s open window. “My lady, your limo has arrived! Hope you won’t ask me to open the door for you, though,” she said, laughing.
“Mel!”
I plopped down on the front seat. Mel gave me a long, critical look. She clicked her tongue. “Don’t ask, don’t tell?”
I nodded. We invented that phrase long ago for situations as bad as today’s. A few months later, I’d read somewhere that the United States government called the policy for gays in the military the same thing once: Don’t ask, don’t tell (DADT). It felt weird when I told Mel about that but the phrase had already stuck, so we kept saying it.
“I strongly suggest you to buckle—”
Mel didn’t finish her sentence when the seat belt clicked. She grinned. “You know who you’re dealing with, baby,” she said.
She turned the music to its maximum volume and started driving. I shrank back into the seat. Alternative rock deafened my ears. That was just what I needed. I looked at Mel. She shook her head to the music, tapping her knuckles along the steering wheel. She looked beautiful with her light brown hair tied in a messy bun and her giant glasses slipping down her upturned nose.
The glasses hid the tiny freckles that Mel used to hate so much she covered them with concealer every time she left her house. It didn’t stop until her then-girlfriend told her that the freckles looked fine on her ‘killer cheekbones’ and that it was stylish. I don’t know why she never
listened to me when I told her the very same thing. Mel caught me glancing at her and gave me a joyful smile.
When I arrived home, my parents weren’t talking to each other. They were sitting in different rooms, Dad in the bedroom and Mom in the kitchen, speaking on the phone. Each of them must have thought that the other came back home with me. They didn’t check that, though. Too busy with their irritation for anything else to bother them.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Hey, Lana!”
Armed with a spatula, Dad flipped the bacon carefully so the hissing grease wouldn’t stain his shirt. A big smile shone on his refreshed face.
Hold on.
What happened to my dad? Where was usual gloomy look on his face and the non-stop grumbling? I thought he hated cooking!
“Gordon Ramsay finally got you on his side?” I said, perching on the edge of the table.
Dad broke into happy laughter. The spatula vigorously tapped on the pan bottom. “Don’t get me wrong, I only watch his shows because they help me fall asleep,” he said, grinning.
The kettle boiled. Dad jumped to his feet and approached it. Two cups with sugar and coffee prepared in advance sat on the counter.
“Why are you making breakfast? Mom already out?”
Dad gave me a conspiratorial smile and sit beside me. He cut up his bacon with his fork, took a big sip of coffee, and leaned back in his chair. “Why are you so surprised? You think I’m not capable of making breakfast for my daughter?” he said.
“I guess you are.”
I glanced at him. He didn’t seem to know that Mom hadn’t come home with me.
“So, what are you up to today?” I asked.
Dad put his coffee down and cleared his throat. “I’m needed at work,” he said.
I raised my eyebrows. “On Sunday?”
He rolled his eyes, his face reflecting genuine suffering. “My moron boss messed up real big and of course I’m the only one who can fix it,” he moaned.
Dad finished his bacon and eggs and went to the bedroom. In a few minutes he came back wearing his office suit. He looked fresh and vigorous with the black briefcase that Mom gave him for their wedding anniversary in his hand; he used to take it only on special occasions.
“Bye!” I said to his back.
Dad stopped at the doors and waved. “Have a very nice day,” he said with a smile, and left.
***
“Well then, tea or anything stronger?” Mel said.
“It’s ten in the morning, you idiot,” I replied, giving her a hug.
Mel swung her legs out of bed. She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “Aristocrats start their day with a glass of champagne, darling,” she said with a sloppy British accent. “And approximately at noon.”
I chuckled. “You’re in Lakewood, honey. Here, aristocrats get up at six, drink orange juice, and then drive themselves to work.”
“Fun-killer,” Mel grumbled.
She stretched her arms, trying to shake off the remains of sleep. It didn’t work, though. She yawned again, saying, “You should’ve come with me to that party on Friday. Colin drank too much and asked me on a date.”
“Doesn’t he know you’re not into boys?”
“Of course he does. But you know, it never stops some guys from being assholes. His girlfriend was at the party too, though.”
I snorted. Mel tossed her favorite blanket, black with red skulls, on the bed and grabbed a black pillow from the rocking chair. “Sit down, miss; your throne’s ready,” she said.
We sat together crisscross applesauce on Mel’s bed. I opened the pack of Oreos that I brought from my house. Mel took the first cookie and put it in her mouth. Her lips stretched into a giant, blissful smile. I giggled. Mel would sell her soul for sweets.
“Okay, I’m ready. Let’s listen to what you’ve got,” she said, shaking off her hands on the bed and folding her arms across her chest.
“Ask questions and I’ll answer,” I replied.
Mel’s eyebrows flew up her forehead. She stared at me with her mouth open. “And what about the heartbreaking story you were supposed to tell me?” she asked, her voice ringing with indignation.
“You know me, all right.” I laughed and aimed a cookie right at her nose.
She quickly got my point. “Okay, okay.” Mel raised her hands in surrender. “Let’s start from the beginning. What was so important you blew off our meeting, and why the hell did your parents leave you in the creepy greenhouse?”
“We already moved on from the last one, didn’t we?”
“Jeez, Lana, then tell me everything else and stop torturing me, you sadist! I’ll even say my safe word: PLEASE.”
I tried to mention every detail I could remember about the last few days. However, there was one thing I kept to myself: I didn’t tell Mel the circumstances under which Max wanted to smoke weed in the first place. Thinking about that made my skin crawl. I shivered.
Mel listened to me carefully; she interrupted only once when I told her how I gave Max a hand with his joint. I knew she would appreciate that.
“That’s my girl!” Mel said, grinning from ear to ear. “So, did you guys like, kiss already?”
“Oh come on!” My cheeks immediately became hot. “Aren’t you supposed to be hard on me for hanging out alone with a complete stranger? Where’s your sanity, Mel?”
“And where was yours when you were doing it?” she retorted, winking at me. “Remember once and for all, Foxy, you can do whatever you want no matter how wrong it is, but only if you don’t get caught. And if it happens, you don’t complain since you knew what you were getting into in the first place.”
“And what if I wanted to kill people?” I asked her mockingly.
Mel squinted at me. “I’m sorry but that rule only works for normal human beings,” she said.
I wanted to specify which human beings were normal but stopped short because my phone beeped. I rushed to answer it. Mel patted me on my back and left for some more cookies from the kitchen.
What’s up with your dreams? Max texted.
I winced as my nightmare flashed before my eyes.
Haven’t had any the last few nights. Maybe it’s infectious? I texted back, cursing myself for the lie.
If it really is, welcome to the club. What’re you up to?
Hanging with Mel. You?
Just woke up. And now I’m texting you. Am I too pushy?
No, not one bit. I hit send and then frowned. Didn’t my text make me the one who was actually pushy?
Would you change your mind if I said we should meet today?
Mel showed up at the door with cookies falling out of her hands. She gave me a questioning glance. “Max. He wants to meet,” I murmured.
Her eyes went big. She hurried to my side, losing a few packs of Snackwell’s on her way. “And you?” she asked, plopping down next to me.
“And I think I should go… with you.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I want you to meet him.”
Mel rubbed her chin, giving me a thoughtful look. “Are you sure this is a good idea? This could grow into a nice date for the two of you,” she said.
“He didn’t say anything about a date, Mel. And neither did I. I just want to have fun.”
“I won’t even pretend that I believe you for one second,” Mel said with a smug smile. “You just need a backup ’cause you’re too scared to meet Max on your own! But it’s okay, Mel’s always here for you, Foxy. Especially if we see a movie. It’s been forever since I went to the movies!”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re an idiot,” I said to Mel’s thrilled-to-bits smiling face.
Mel didn’t say anything. She pounced on me, her hands tickling my neck and her legs preventing me from running away. I shrieked. She knew I was terribly ticklish and managed to catch me completely unprepared. I had to fight for my life with all the strength I possessed. Her plan was obvious and simple: to lean over me and make me motionless so she could tickle me for however lon
g her crazy mind wanted.
“Get your ass off me!” I cried, losing my breath from laughing.
“What’s your problem with my ass?” she asked with genuine astonishment.
“Nothing, except it’s right on my shoulders! Your bones are skinning me alive!”
“What bones?”
“Hipbone, Mel!”
“Oh, this one?” She turned her back and leaned on me even harder. Her sharp bone poked my neck. Jeez, how can she be that skinny?
“Mel, your hipbone scares me,” I moaned.
“Just say you’re jealous. Don’t keep it to yourself,” she said.
“Yeah, whatever,” I grumbled.
Mel yawned. “I want some cookies. Let’s make peace. I’ll let you go and you won’t come at me. Deal?”
“Deal. Just get off me, freak.”
“On the count of three, then. Keep it cool,” Mel said. “One…”
“Two…”
“Three!”
We jumped in different directions like two alley cats. In complete silence, we looked at each other, our eyes narrowed and our lips twitching with suspicious smiles. One second later and we both burst out laughing.
Mel fumbled in the bed, scattering the pillows. “It has to be here somewhere!”
I wiggled as something solid poked my back. I raised myself and pulled out the Choco Pie pack from the pillow I was sitting on. I waved it in the air. “I hope you don’t mind my butt being on it.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you,” Mel grumbled.
“I can repeat it if you like.”
She snorted but took the cookies anyway. The pack opened with a loud pop. Finally she was neutralized.
“Listen, Lana,” Mel said, her mouth full of crackling treats. “Did you decide what you’re going to do next? With college, I mean.”
“No…” I nodded my head toward her. “Any update?”
“Still the same.”
I sighed. I was happy Mel made up her mind about her future. New York was an awesome choice, especially if you could afford it. And Mel, with her knack for reading people and faultless intuition, could easily make a design career in the city of dreams. But at the same time, she was my best friend and she was about to leave me. She still didn’t have her parents’ permission, but I knew they’d let her go. And I had to let go of the only soul mate I had in this world.
