Eating Marigolds

The scent of marigolds sent me instantly back to a bittersweet time.

It was a beautiful summer day. I climbed into the backseat of my mom’s old Cutlass with my older brother riding shotgun and my mom driving. Seatbelts weren’t a thing back then, in my childhood. I’ve spent many miles crawling around a moving car or switching seats with my brother at the worst times. I thought this drive was going to be like many others- to the store or library, maybe to the lake to swim. I always wore my swimsuit in summer just in case there was a chance to swim. Every once in a while we would go to see family. Sometimes we went to my mom’s favorite sister’s house which was mostly fun. Other times, rarely, we went to my mom’s least favorite sister’s dreadful house (she had four sisters). This was to be one of the dreadful days.

I realized our destination when we pulled up in front of a mint-green house with a neat, wrought-iron railed porch and a matching detached garage. My dreadful aunt’s house. I stared at the profile of my mother sitting opposite me in the front seat. I started to cry. I wasn’t sure why I was crying but I was. My brother was already out of the car running off with some of our cousins. My mom didn’t notice my whimpers at first as she turned off the car and opened the drivers side door. She turned to look at me from her seat behind the steering wheel.

“Oh, are you crying? I’m sorry. I know it’s been a long ride,” she said as she turned in her seat to then hoist herself out of the car. She opened the backdoor and sat beside me. She wiped my face with a piece of cloth. “Let’s go in and use the bathroom. That will make things better, then we can eat! Slide out this side,” she said as she stood. She gestured for me to come out of the car.

My bare thighs stuck to the vinyl as I slid slowly across the seat. I tried to take a deep breath without my breath catching in my throat and triggering my tears. I knew how to stop crying but didn’t know why I had started. I only knew I didn’t want to get out. I wanted to lay down and sleep. I wanted a blanket to cover me from sight.

My mom had gone to the back of the car to get stuff out of the trunk. I stood near the car, blocking the open car door. I wanted the door to close on me and squish me out of existence. I stared at the mint-green house with a neat, wrought-iron railed porch and a matching detached garage. That was the descriptive phrase that came to my mind each time I saw my aunt’s house back then and still does today even though the house is now white. I heard the phrase again and again as the adults around me back then discussed the house. “You’ll never have to paint again, Wayne, with that new fangled mint-green siding on the house,” everyone said to my uncle.

A bowl of fruit salad was thrust into my hands, breaking my stare. “Carry this in,” said my mom, “I’m right behind you with the deviled eggs.” I dragged myself into the house, my mom went around me, leaving me to find a place for my burden. I put the dish on the dining room table then flipped up the draped tablecloth so I could crawl under the table to hide. The tablecloth hid me well. For a long time I watched the feet of family members pass by the table. I sat with my legs pulled up and my chin resting on my knees. I didn’t mean to get comfortable but I must have because I fell asleep under the dining room table.

I woke when my aunt’s knee connected with the side of my head as she sat down to eat. I opened my eyes to first see my aunt’s knee and leg before her angry face then came at me as she bent over to reach in to grab my arm. She yanked me from under the table. I was crying again then. Maybe even yelping a little. Family members gathered to stare. “Look at this nasty thing looking up dresses,” shrieked my aunt, “I caught this thing under the table trying to get a peek up my dress!”

I squirmed out of her grasp. I headed toward the front door with plans to run as far away as possible. Instead I went out the door and stopped on the neat, wrought-iron railed porch. I steadied myself by grabbing the cold railing. I could hear people talking through the screen door.

“A strange bird, that one,” said my uncle. I imagined myself with wings.

“It’s going to be okay,” said my mom to my uncle, “we are all very hungry, we haven’t eaten in hours. We’re tired, too. The kids never go far when they’re hungry and always come back in to eat.”

The noise of everyone getting settled to eat brought me to the present. My stomach churned and made growling sounds. I had no appetite but was very hungry. Fruit salad came to mind and my stomach made even more noise. I felt strange indeed. And like a stranger to these people. I truly wanted to fly away like a bird. A strange bird …

I looked down from the porch onto the side lawn. Neatly trimmed, flower lined shrubs grew close to the side of the house. There was no way I was going into the house. I wanted to disappear. I stepped off the porch, walked around the house, made sure no one was looking then stepped over a row of yellow flowers to tuck myself neatly into a shrub. I sat with my butt wedged between bumpy roots. I closed my eyes and cried quietly.

My stomach growled again. I willed it to be quiet. I prayed no one would find me even though I already knew that prayers never worked. I felt confused. I wanted to be at home. I planned to stay hidden until the game was over. The game always started after dinner when the adults were busy. Hide and seek. All the cousins played hide and seek and the oldest ones got to be ‘it’ which had great power. If you were ‘it’ you never had to hide.

I took a deep breath. My head filled with the scent of the flowers now just inches from my face. I opened my eyes. I thought of how tasty they smelled. I carefully picked a tiny yellow petal off one flower and held it in my teeth, biting the delicate thing. Bitter but delicious juice landed on my tongue. I was surprised! I picked off the head of one flower and popped it into my mouth. I chewed with my mouth open, my little mouth was so full, the juice gathering under my tongue I couldn’t swallow fast enough. I gorged on the flowers, I feasted. No way did I want to go back into the house so I stayed where I was. I had found the perfect lunch in my perfect hiding spot. I ate as many flowers as I could reach then drifted into another nap as six year olds may often do when they are fed and comfortable.

My nap didn’t last long. I woke to the sound of people’s voices but couldn’t make them out at first. I recognized my cousin’s voices as they excitedly looked for their own hiding spaces. The game had begun. I tensed in my spot but didn’t make a sound.

“I’m not hiding in the garage no matter what,” said one cousin, “no one ever goes in there when they are ‘it’ anyway.”

“What if he says he wants you to hide with him? You will have to go,” said another cousin.

“I know,” said a third voice, my brother, “let’s ditch the game and go to the river. Then we won’t have to even see him.”

The voices faded. I could no longer make out the words. I tried to understand what they had said. Should I go to the river? Should I stay where I was? I had never been away from my mom. I knew my mom was just inside the house. I wasn’t really sure I could find my way to the river. I felt hot tears on my cheeks. I hadn’t realized that I was crying again. I wiped at my tears. I began to panic. Suddenly I had to pee. I squeezed my legs together as tight as I could to stop from going right there. I heard footsteps. I was afraid to even wipe my tears- I was frozen, I couldn’t move. A set of feet came into view. They were creeping along slowly, it seemed to take forever for the person to pass. I was sure it was him, the dreaded cousin, looking for a victim to hide with … “press hard against here,” he would say, “don’t move, let me help you to be quiet so no one finds you. You don’t want to lose the game …” I could almost feel the awful pressure he could put on my body.

I let out my breath with a whoosh of air. I did my best to be quiet. Just then I heard a shriek. I thought it was maybe an angry cat but I knew my aunt didn’t have a cat. I let out a shriek of my own. Seconds later, another shriek sounded but this time much closer to my hiding spot. I could see big feet this time. Stocking covered feet that had been shoved into ugly shoes. My dreaded aunt. Her foot landed near the flowers that were directly in front of me. The shrubs parted above me just as another shriek, louder and more shrill, filled the yard.

“This animal ruined my flowers,” roared my aunt, ”all of them! Gone! Did you eat them? I can see the evidence on your filthy mouth! Who eats somebody’s flowers?” She had me by the shoulder. She was shaking me hard. Not hard enough I guess because she grabbed my other shoulder and shook be back and forth. I felt my teeth knocking together. I cried out as I bit my tongue. A horrible taste filled my mouth that I didn’t know then was the coppery taste of blood. The delicious flavor of the flowers was drowned, squelched, ruined forever.

“Stop that shaking! Stop, now,” I recognized my mom’s voice. The shaking lessened but the grip tightened. I felt as if my shoulders were going to break. I heard multiple footsteps come close but no one said a word. I couldn’t see through my tears. I squirmed out of my aunt’s grip but stood still. I wiped at my face with my sleeve. I cried anew at the sight of blood. I peed in my bathing suit, hot pee ran down my legs.

“Dang,” said my brother, “what happened to you? I heard screams all the way from the river!” He looked around nervously but no one seemed to notice that he had announced leaving the yard which was forbidden.

“Come on out of there,” said my mom as she stepped into the flowerbed herself to put an arm around me. She guided me to the sidewalk. She knelt in front of me. I felt her check me out to see where so much blood was coming from. She asked softly, “who cut you?”

I tried to say, “I bit my tongue,” but it didn’t come out clearly. I stuck out my tongue and pointed to it, grunting. I cried harder and collapsed against her. I tried to squeeze myself into her so I would disappear. I started to hiccup.

“Grunts like an animal, too,” sneered my aunt.

My brother came to my defense by saying, “we were just playing hide and seek.” He came around to stand beside me. I felt protected by his presence even though he was not a lot bigger than I was then.

My aunt strained to bend. Ripping at her plants, she started mumbling about how much damage I had done. My tears had dried enough so that I could see her sneer again as she looked at me and said, “no food for you, brat, you must be full on my favorite flowers! You are disgusting!”

My mom guided me away from my raging aunt. She guided me to our car, wrapped me in a towel, and gently sat me in the front seat. “I’ll be right back,” she said, “I’m just getting your brother then we’ll be going to get you a milkshake on the way home. Try not to worry.” She closed the door just as my brother was getting to the car. She said something to him that I couldn’t hear, he shook his head then opened the back door and got into the car. She climbed in behind the wheel. Before she started the car she said to us kids, “we won’t worry to come back here again to this dreadful house.”

We rode in silence away from the mint-green house with the neat wrought-iron railing and the matching detached garage. Soon we were parked in our own driveway. My mom looked at the front yard then said, “I’m going to plant flowers. They smell so wonderful and are so pretty.” She turned to smile at me still sitting next to her in the front seat.

I smiled a bloody smile, my lips cracking a little from the grime. “I’m sorry,” I managed to say before she started talking again.

“You never need to apologize to me. Ever. Especially when you didn’t do anything wrong. You ate the flowers, no big deal. I will get some from Mary, she has so many, she likes to give them away,” she said as she got out of the car, “we can some plant marigolds, too. I bet they are delicious! We can have our very own marigolds and you can eat them whenever you want.” I never had to go to the dreadful aunt’s house again.

I returned to the present as the scent of marigolds again dominated my senses. I bent to sniff the row of flowers for sale in the local garden shop where I was browsing. I was grateful for those bittersweet flowers that one day long ago saved me from my dreadful family.