Mary Gold

In a neighborhood of nice houses, Mary Archer’s home was the “nicest.” The gabled structure had a large lemonade porch, complete with two rocking chairs. The shingles were scalloped and the building was painted a pleasant pale yellow. A paver driveway led to a tastefully hidden garage toward the rear of the property. A brick walkway brought visitors to the white stairs leading to the porch. Pretty azalea bushes fronted the porch and a lovely willow tree shaded the property with gently swaying branches. The single most striking feature of the home, however, were the stunning beds of marigolds that lined the entire walkway. The bright yellow of the blooms beautifully complimented the rest of the house’s features, making the home look like something you would see on the cover of a magazine.

In fact, the house had been featured in a local newspaper. Mary was shown beaming as she stood amongst her marigolds. She told the reporter that because her flowers were so beautiful, everyone referred to her as “Mary Gold.” This was untrue, but the newspaper printed it as part of their headline. Since that time, Mary always introduced herself as Mary Gold.

In the afternoons, weather permitting, Mary would sit on the porch in a rocking chair. She would wear a big straw hat and drink iced tea. She liked to think of herself as part of the display, the perfect housewife enjoying her perfect home. When her husband, Steven, would come home in the evenings she would watch to make sure he did not park anywhere that his van would be visible. Steven was a plumber and owned a very successful plumbing company with four locations. That didn’t matter to Mary, though. She didn’t want people seeing the white van that said “Archer Plumbing” and had a cartoon Robin Hood character shooting a plunger from his bow. Steven was required to park in the back of the house where the van could not be seen from the street. He had learned it was best not to incur Mary’s wrath about such things. It was much easier to just endure the inconvenience.

On this particular Friday, Steven entered the house through the rear entrance and then immediately changed out of his work clothes, which was also one of Mary’s requirements. He came out to the front porch and sat on the other rocking chair. “Do you want to go out for dinner tonight?” he asked.

“I already defrosted some steaks,” she replied. “I have to go to the church after dinner to help setup for the Mothers' Day flower sale on Sunday.”

Steven nodded. Mary was always happy to help out at church, and very critical of church members who were “too busy” to volunteer. “You do remember that Katie is coming home on Sunday?”

“Of course, I remember,” Mary snapped back. “I’ll be home in time. Don’t worry.”

Steven was worried, though. Their daughter, Katie, hadn’t been home since Christmas. She had left early after Mary had embarrassed her in front of the rest of the family. It was her typical passive/aggressive attack. Mary had praised their daughter for doing so well as a hairstylist making sure to simultaneously point out how she had quit college because of that “depression thing” she went through. The commentary was meant to remind Katie how much her mother disapproved of her life choices, though Mary would never admit to that. When Steven discussed it with her later that night Mary insisted that she was complimenting their daughter.

Katie hadn’t spoken to her mother since that day. Mary stubbornly insisted that Katie was at fault. Steven, acting as mediator, had finally convinced Katie to come visit. Steven said he would make lunch and both women could relax and catch up. He assumed, somewhat naively, that the women could patch things up.

Katie knew she would be late. She was only ten miles away, but the traffic was horrible. It was not a promising start to what was supposed to be a reconciliation day. Her mother did not like tardiness. She kept hoping that traffic would loosen up, but the cars kept creeping along. Katie was already anticipating the comments from her mother: “You should always leave early if something is important. When I have to be somewhere, I always work in some extra time. I guess I should have known better than to think you would be courteous enough to be on time.” Katie turned up the radio to get her mother’s voice out of her head. It didn’t help much.

Her mother’s voice was always in Katie’s head. It was her guardian angel of self-doubt. Whatever Katie did in life she always had to overcome that negative voice. When Katie had decided not to stay in college her mother had been quick to call her a quitter. When she decided to be a beautician, her mother said she was wasting her time. When she took a job in another city and moved into an apartment, her mother had said she would be begging to come home in a few months. Despite this negativity, Katie had somehow managed to thrive. She was happy in her work and in her new home. She had become so successful that she had recently signed a lease on her own salon. Katie really hoped that maybe this news would be enough for her mother to finally accept that she had made the right choice for herself.

She called her father, hoping that he might explain to her mother why she was running late. When he answered the phone, he asked “How late are ya gonna be, kiddo?”

“Dad, I’m really trying but the traffic is so bad,” Katie said. “I don’t think I’ll be more than ten or fifteen minutes late. Can you explain to mom for me?”

“No need, Katie,” her father said. “I told your mom you would be here at 1:30 and I told you to be here at 1:00. After all these years, I know my girls pretty well.”

Katie felt like a great weight had been lifted. “I probably should be mad that you didn’t trust me, but you did save me from Mom’s anger. You’re the best, dad. I’ll see you in a little while.” She felt a little less tension, but was still nervous. She hoped that the gift she was bringing would make her mother happy.

The day before Katie had gone to a garden center that was considered the best in the area. It was extremely crowded because of Mother’s Day, but Katie was determined to get something special. A very kind woman who worked there helped her out. She showed her the different types of marigolds and recommended striped, red and yellow French marigolds. They were very different from the yellow flowers her mother always grew, but they were beautiful. “If your mom loves marigolds as much you say, she’ll love these!” the woman said.

The large pot of flowers sat in Katie’s passenger seat. She had even wrapped the seatbelt around it so it wouldn’t fall. She was really pleased with her choice of gift. She was sure her mother would appreciate it.

Katie pulled up in front of the house with five minutes to spare. Her father immediately came out of the house and gave her a big hug. “I’m so glad to see you, Dad,” she said. “I want to tell you something before I tell Mom. I’m opening my own salon.”

“Good for you, kiddo!” her dad said. He hugged her again. “How’d you pull it off?”

“I’ve been saving my tips for a few years and I was able to get a small business loan. I got a really good location, too,” Katie said. She could see how happy her dad was for her.

“I’m really proud of you, Katie. I know you want to do everything on your own, but if you need anything you know you can ask me.”

“I know, dad,” she said. “I don’t think I do, but I’ll let you know. Hey, I wanna show you something.” Katie went back to her car and got the pot of marigolds. Her father was impressed and carried them for her as they walked toward the house.

They were about halfway up the walk when Mary emerged from the house. She came down the front steps, smiled unconvincingly, and gave Katie a perfunctory hug. “Happy mothers’ day, mom,” Katie said.

“Thank you, Katie. And thank you for coming.” It was not a very warm greeting. Mary noticed the pot of flowers Steven was holding. “Did you bring these for me, Katie?”

“Yes, mom. The lady at the garden center said they’re a special type of French marigolds.” Mary smirked as she took the pot and examined the flowers.

“I guess they’re nice flowers, but these aren’t marigolds,” Mary said. “There’s a reason people call me Mary Gold. I know my flowers.” Steven could see the hurt in Katie’s eyes. He tried to help.

“Well, whoever is right, they’re very pretty. Right Mary?” Steven asked.

“I suppose I could put them in the backyard,” she said.

“Well, the flowers are just part of Katie’s gift. She has some big news, too,” Steven said.

Katie was feeling flustered. What little confidence she had when she arrived was draining away. She managed to say softly, “I’m opening my own salon, Mom,”

Mary looked like a pot that had come to a boil. “What are you talking about? Your own business? You can barely handle your life; you really think you can run a business?”

“Honey, Katie has done fine on her own,” Steven said. “I think we should be happy for her.” Mary would have none of it.

“Sure, be happy for her while she ruins her life even more! You’re probably behind this, aren’t you Steven? You’ve been giving her money behind my back!”

“Dad, has offered to help me, but I haven’t taken anything from him,” Katie said, sheepishly.

“I’m supposed to believe that?” Mary said. “You’ve always been such an embarrassment to me, and now you take money from your father to start some business that is sure to fail! I don’t know why you bothered to show up today! Happy mothers’ day to me!” Mary stormed into the house. Katie started walking back to her car. Steven followed. “I’m sorry, Katie,” Steven said.

“It’s ok dad. You tried.” She gave him a hug before driving away.

Steven went to the backyard and entered the shed. He found the string trimmer and snapped in a battery. He walked to the front yard and got to work.

Mary heard the trimmer and came out on the front porch. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw Steven swinging the trimmer back and forth, laying waste to the marigold beds. “Oh my god!” she screamed. “Steven, stop!”

Steven had already destroyed more than two-thirds of the yellow flowers. Petals and stems were scattered everywhere. It was a floral massacre. Mary ran up to him and pulled the trimmer out of his hands. He then proceeded to jump up and down on the remaining marigolds. Mary continued to scream at him until she realized that the noise had brought several neighbors out to see what was happening.

“You care more about these ugly, yellow flowers than you do your own daughter!” Steven shouted. He started to walk toward the house but stopped. “By the way, no one calls you ‘Mary Gold!’ People laugh at you when you say it. Everyone thinks you’re ridiculous. You’re the embarrassment, not Katie!”

Mary fell to her knees amongst the ruined flowers, sobbing. She thought it was the worst thing that had ever happened to her. Her perfect flowers ruined! Then, she wiped the tears from her eyes and noticed a few marigolds were salvageable. “Don’t worry,” she gently said to the flowers. “Mary Gold can fix this.”