Page 21 of Advice from a Sunflower

“Yes, a moment. Sometimes, we need to take moments to ourselves to handle our feelings. I’m all better now.”

“Is Ma having a moment?” Her blue eyes swing over to Marnie’s still form, brows knitted together in innocent concern. She must have fallen asleep.

“Yes, that’s exactly what she’s doing. She’ll be okay soon, though. Let’s give her some privacy.”

“Okay.”

A little while later, as the girls and I are finishing up our game of house, the steps creak and Marnie’s slim figure appears in the doorway. Her eyes are heavy and dark, but she looks like she’s cleaned up a bit since her breakdown in Denise’s room earlier.

“Who’s ready for dinner?” she asks excitedly, her tone betraying the heartbreak that’s clear across her face.

I never knew how she became so good at faking it. When did the emotions she allowed to show start to deceive the one’s she was truly feeling? Has she ever used her gift to fool me?

“I am,” the girls sing in unison, jumping from their spots on the floor beside me to run over to her.

I help her cook dinner as much as she lets me, and we don’t exchange many words between us as she works up a hearty, healthy meal for the four of us to enjoy. When our bellies are full and the plates have been cleared from the table, I follow Marnie into the kitchen and lean my back against the counter as she begins rinsing off our plates.

“So, have you thought about what you’re going to do with the house?” I ask casually, noting the fresh coat of paint Marnie must have also added to the walls in here. They’re light purple now instead of the dull, grease-stained yellow that once covered them.

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean, have you thought about where you’re going to go?”

“I’m going to stay right here, obviously.” She looks me over with her eyes narrowed, the same expression she always wore right before she called me something offensive when we were kids.

I shake my head incredulously, turning my body to fully face her. “You can’t be serious. You aren’t really going to keep them here, are you? Now that you don’t have any ties here, you could go anywhere.”

“I do have ties here. It’s my home; the girls’ home. They go to school and have a life here. Denise is here. I can’t just pack up my life the way you did and abandon everything I know.”

She lifts her hands from the soapy water and dries them on the towel between us, turning her body to match my stance.

Ignoring the small dig, I stand my ground. “They’re six and eight. They can’t have that much of a life here that you’d be upending. Come stay with me. My house is definitely big enough for all of you until you can get on your feet and find somewhere right for you.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” she huffs, throwing the towel back onto the counter to point a slender finger in my face. “Don’t think that you’re going to waltz in here after all these years and pretend to know anything that’s going on. You have no idea what we’ve been through while you were out there, living the life.”

Marnie’s eyes darken, her brows casting a menacing shadow onto them that reminds me too much of Denise.

“A few hand-outs aren’t going to change the fact that you abandoned us. We aren’t your charity case; we’re family. You seem to have forgotten that.”

“No, I didn’t forget anything and that’s not what I’m doing, Marnie,” I defend, my voice weak.

What is wrong with me? I’m stronger than this.

“Isn’t it? You came back here to slum it for a few days so you could save face for not being here for us. I see right through your games, little Mouse. Don’t forget that I know you better than you know yourself.”

No, she doesn’t. Marnie hasn’t known me for years, and I don’t have to take her verbal abuse. I turn to walk away, but I’m stopped when she catches my arm in her hand and swings me back around before letting go. I glance down at the red mark that's already forming, blood rushing to the spot to form a bruise. Then, with blackness in her eyes and venom in her voice, she echoes the same words our mother said to me the day I left her for good.

“You aren’t better than us, Mouse. You never will be.”

Somehow, I'm stunned into silence and filled with deafening rage all at once. My past self and present self fight each other on what to do next, conflicting with one another like two rivals.

Without another word, I turn my back to her and walk out the front door. I need space. I need to get out of this rotting excuse for a town before it eats me alive and unravels all the work I've put in over the years.

My foot almost hits a little lump sitting on the porch step. I have to grab onto the railing before I nearly fall from stopping so abruptly, and it’s then that I hear their quiet little voices.

“Are you leaving for good, Aunt Lyla?” Gabby’s bright green eyes gaze up at me, an identical shade to mine, although they pair much better with her auburn-colored hair than my dark shade of black.

“No,” I whisper, stepping between them so I can get off the porch and out of Marnie’s hearing range. I squat before them and lean in close like I’m telling a secret. “I’ll be back. I just have a few errands to run. Maybe later we can stop and get ice cream. Just the three of us.”

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