Thursday, February 14, 2013

Have a Heart

"Paul always said you had his heart, and now you do...literally." Spencer held a pink wrapped box with a big red bow on it close to his chest. "Here ya go Lily... enjoy." He dropped the box onto the table and smirked. I felt bile rising in my throat. This was insane... Spencer was insane. I tried to speak, but nothing came out. It couldn't be true... it just couldn't. Paul was dead because he had loved me; because Spencer was jealous. Spencer had gone berserk and cut out Paul's heart, and boxed it up like it was some demented Valentine gift. I stood helpless as Spencer turned and walked casually out the door.

I raced out of the room down corridors that seemed to never end, frantically chasing after him, but he was gone.

I dropped to my knees and started screaming. My chest was tight and I couldn't catch my breath.
I was gasping for air and it woke me up.
It was a dream; it was just a dream. I cried in relief.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes, looking around the room, blinking repeatedly, making sure I was awake. And then I saw it. A pink box with a bright red bow was sitting on my desk next to my laptop; a small card dangled from the side. I could see the meticulously neat black print from across the room:
Have a heart.

©2013 Garden Summerland

Tuesday, February 5, 2013


"I hate pink and purple mother, don't put those in there."
She pretended not to hear me as she kept arranging pink tipped roses and ugly purple flowers into a vase.
"No!" It seemed like I was screaming at her, but the silence between us remained unbroken. She wouldn't look at me, she wouldn't speak to me. She acted as though all the decisions were hers, like I wasn't involved in any of it. But it was my day. Mine.

I tried another tactic. I spoke softly, almost in a whisper.
"Please mom, just this once, can't you do it like I want. Just white flowers, that looks tacky." I wanted something elegant and understated; something simple.
She turned towards me; yes, I had gotten through to her. I smiled briefly. And then I watched in disbelief as she carried the arrangement right past me. I lunged for the flowers and they slipped right through my fingers.

I lay on the ground helpless, watching as my mother bent down to place the arrangement on the headstone. It was my headstone. Mine.

  ©2013 Garden Summerland