Page 52 of Kadra: The Unfeeling

Black on black.

The only colors here are the flowers. Everything else is dull and lifeless but not my sister’s garden. That is filled with color and life.

I watch as Vitali takes his time looking around the garden with an expression that makes it seem as if he’s… impressed.

Pride sweeps in my chest as the two of them look around the garden that took me so long to make just like the one my sister showed me once when she was coming up with a dream list. I couldn’t help her make her dreams come true but at least I could give her this even if she’s not here to take care of it or enjoy it.

It’s here regardless.

And even though I find the activity tedious, I do it because while I’m here surrounded by colorful flowers I can feel her around me. Her energy. Her excitement. Her sweetness.

I miss it.

I miss her.

But lately, the pain has lessened ever since these two came into my life. Somehow, I don’t feel so alone and the house doesn’t feel so… cold.

So desolate.

It’s them.

It’s both of them.

Now they’re here with me while I do something as mundane as gardening and I don’t feel the impulse to run away or hide under the unfeeling act I perfected since I was a child.

Act like you don’t care and eventually, they’ll start believing it. I was so good at one point that I too started to believe it until recently when I seemed to feel way too much and way too fast.

Vitali’s footsteps on the grass managed to pull me out of my head to realize he had spoken.

“Kadra…” Looking over at Vitali, an eerie feeling settled inside of me, something that sunk into my soul, and when he asked, “Is gardening something you enjoy?” His eyes turned the most beautiful shade of gray I have ever seen as the sunlight played off them. At times, it almost hurts to stare back at him when he looks at me as if he was seeing the deepest part of my soul, but to look away from them proves to be impossible most days.

I force myself to do it. Looking away from him, I finish planting the tulip with the others and when I feel like my voice won’t betray me, I reply. “I did it for my sister.” Clearing my throat, I think of what to tell him without revealing too much. “My youngest. She always dreamed of having her very own garden.”

“But she’s not here.” He points out.

Ouch.

“I’m well aware of that,” I mumbled.

“And still you made a dream of hers happen.” The Russian says and then drops down next to me while Azariel falls to his knees on the other side of me.

Ignoring his comment, I say. “There’s extra pairs of gloves in that bucket.” I point to the yellow bucket as I finish slipping the gloves on.

I watch as Vitali grabs the bucket and then pulls out two pairs of gloves and hands the smaller ones to Azariel with a tender look on his face that I don’t know what to make of it. I don’t think Azariel does either.

“Do you know anything about gardening?” I ask while amused when I see they both are now covered in dirt just like I am.

When both of them shake their heads, I try really hard not to laugh.

Of course, the Russian knows nothing about gardening.

“I’m growing more Tulips. I planted these bulbs in moist soil in sunny spots.” I showed them how to do so and soon after the Russian did the same. “Do you want to try?” I ask Azariel when I see him looking at Vitali planting the bulb.

Azariel hesitates at first when I offer him a bulb but then he takes it from my hands and imitates what I showed them. While they both busy themselves with the tulip bulbs, I carefully removed the weeds surrounding it and clipped off a now-dead bulb.

The tightness in my chest intensifies as the two of them help me care for the flowers as if it’s just a normal day. As if this was normal for us. We plant the bulbs and clean the area for what feels like an hour before we’re done and there are no more flowers to plant. Looking at the Tulips, my chest feels tight again when I see just how beautiful it looks now that the weeds and dead flowers are gone. We did that.

“The first time I saw you in that lonely cemetery, surrounded by the dead, I wondered what you would look like surrounded by flowers instead. Surrounded by only pretty things.” The Russian whispers close to my ear making my breath hitch. “Now I don’t have to wonder.” I turn and look at his face and find him smiling but not a fake smile or a cocky one. No. A tender smile.

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