Mary Gold

Violet’s date didn’t know better, of course, but a marigold was exactly the wrong choice of flower for her corsage. She wouldn’t let him know that – Ollie was nice and was keen on impressing her. She gave him a smile and threaded her arm through his while her father readied the Brownie camera he bought just for this occasion.

After promising to have her back by midnight, Ollie escorted Violet into his dad’s station wagon. Ollie was saving up for a car of his own and began talking about makes and models he liked. Violet smiled and nodded, half-listening to him while her mind drifted back to the flower on her corsage. Violet could never look at a marigold flower without thinking of her. Mary Gold. She thinks it’s silly. It’s only a flower whose common name happens to sound similar to this girl’s. Violet hated thinking of Mary Gold, and any time she did, she felt every muscle in her body tense up. She inhaled sharply to bring her back to the present moment. She was in Ollie’s dad’s car, on her way to her prom wearing a white dress her mother had made in an attempt to recreate the one Natalie Wood wore in West Side Story. Violet was with her very nice beau. She was no longer forced to be around Mary Gold. She didn’t even know where Mary Gold was these days, or if she was even alive. Good riddance, she thought before chastising herself for still thinking about the tormentor from her girlhood.

Chubby Checker was playing, and everyone was doing the twist. Ollie had snuck in a flask of something that was sweet and bitter, and very strong. Violet took a couple sips here and there, and was feeling blissful from everything around her. It was nearing the end of the night. Violet and Ollie were slow-dancing to Patti Page’s, “Tennessee Waltz” – an odd choice for a prom, but Violet still liked it. Besides, after this song they were going to go down to the creek with some other friends. Ollie had whispered the plan into her ear while they were kissing earlier, and she knew what the plan really meant: they were going to have sex tonight.

Violet wasn’t scared, she told herself. She and Ollie had been going steady since he gave her his class ring earlier this year; she would probably be married to him this time next year anyway. But in the car on their way to the creek, Ollie placed his hand on Violet’s knee and for some reason – maybe knowing what was about to happen – a flood of memories rushed back to her of Mary Gold. The foster girl from the nearby farm who had come from a troubled home. Violet’s mother had hoped the two would develop a friendship, and that Violet could be a good influence on Mary, but that is not what happened. Violet was afraid of Mary within moments of meeting her. Something about that girl’s smile, and the way it never seemed to meet her eyes. She was about eight years old, but was tall, and could easily overpower Violet, even though she was two years older. Mary Gold wasn’t in Violet’s life for very long – maybe a little less than a year, but even that was too much.

Again, Violet sharply inhaled to bring her back to the present moment. She put her hand over Ollie’s, which was still resting on her knee, and smiled at him. He winked back. She was with her beau, and about to lose her virginity. She was far, far away from the girl who would blame Violet for letting the chickens out of their coop after dark; far from the times Mary would make Violet cry when she would pinch or squeeze the goats until they screamed; far from the moments where Mary touched her, or made Violet touch Mary and told her not to tell. She never knew what happened to Mary after she was sent away for breaking her foster brother’s arm. Ollie would never know about Mary Gold.

Years later, Violet’s granddaughter was helping pack up her grandparents’ home. Ollie had passed, and Violet was being moved into a nursing home where she could be properly looked after as her dementia worsened. As her granddaughter was sorting through boxes when she came across a small parcel containing the neatly preserved corsage from Violet’s prom – Ollie had insisted she keep it and Violet had agreed to place it with their keepsakes. Violet’s granddaughter smiled at the thought of her grandparents as a young couple, and decided it would be so sweet to bring the corsage to Violet’s new home, curious to see if she still remembered.