Page 35 of Sweet Poison

Despite his wife’s and daughter’s kindness, the man’s presence looks like a threatening shadow. He rarely speaks, his eyes frequently drifting toward me with a look of distrust and suspicion. He looks at me as if he’s waiting for me to slip up,to prove that I’m not worthy of the generosity his family has extended. If he only knew I’ve been stealing food from him. He would put me out on the streets. I wouldn’t blame him either. He opened his doors to me and here I am stealing from them.

Maybe Milton was right.

I’m a bad seed too.

The soft, rhythmic tapping on the window jolts me from my thoughts. I move towards the window and there I spot the source of the sound. Outside I see Willow standing below, her face illuminated by the fading light. She’s throwing small rocks at the window, each tap a tiny, urgent call for attention.

I frown, wondering what she wants.

As our eyes meet, her expression brightens into a playful smile and she bounces in place as if seeing me made her happy. My frown deepens at that. I don’t get her. I don’t get her at all. She’s too damn happy and gets excited about the stupidest things. Like now for example. She signals me to come down with a wide smile and a series of enthusiastic gestures, then, without waiting for a response, she turns and runs off towards her mother’s greenhouse. A greenhouse where her and her mother spend countless hours a day caring for butterflies and exotic plants. From all the way here, I can see her curls bounce in the wind as she happily runs through the green house.

Thud.

“Aghh,” I rub my chest when it starts to hurt.

I hesitate for a moment, caught between the basic instinct to stay far away from the girl who makes me feel things I’m not used to and the need to chase after her and join her in her little world that makes breathing hurt a little bit less. The last time I was alone with her, she made me feel safe.

I’ve never felt that with anyone else but with Willow I do.

When my curiosity gets the best of me, I grab my jacket, slip on my shoes, and head for the door. Descending the stairsquickly, I try to make as little noise as possible not wanting to get caught. When I reach the first level, I push open the back door and step outside. Once there, the cool evening air hits me so I hurry toward the greenhouse. The sounds of the butterflies flitting through the air and the soft rustling of leaves become louder as I approach.

When I reach the entrance of the greenhouse, I spot Willow standing amid the rows of rare plants with a smile that splits her face in two, waving at me to come further inside.

Hesitantly, I do and that’s when my breath catches in my throat making it hard for me to breathe. Stepping into the greenhouse feels like stepping into a magical sanctuary and another world, one where every corner brims with enchantment and wonder. The total opposite of the mundane world outside.

I stand there almost in a trance and move in circles, taking every corner of this sanctuary in. Flashing fairy lights are strung delicately among the plants, their soft glow casting a warm, golden hue over the entire space. The lights twinkle like the stars outside and I have to blink twice to make sure I’m not stuck in a dream. But it’s not a dream. It is very much real.

Then there are the butterflies—so many butterflies—flitting from flower to flower, their delicate and colorful wings shimmering like tiny diamonds. There are so many of them. Orange, greens and blue ones.

A tiny blue butterfly lands on Willow's nose, making her giggle in silence. The only tell is the movement of her shoulders.

Thud.

Thud.

There that pain in my chest goes again.

Unable to stand the sudden rush of strange emotions, I look away from her and focus on the plants instead. There are so many of them that I don’t doubt this family has every plant inexistence. They’re all lush and vibrant, their leaves are vivid green and their flowers are bursting in brilliant hues. Ferns unfurl their fronds, orchids stand tall with their pretty blooms, and vines drape elegantly from above. The air smells like blooming flowers and fresh soil.

I like it…

It smells like her.

The sudden sound of small footsteps in the distance catches my attention and I look where I last saw Willow standing to find it empty. I look around until I find her standing near a small pond, where the reflection of the fairy lights makes it seem like the water is sparkling. Willow notices me standing close and gestures for me to come closer, her excitement evident in the light in her eyes and her smile.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart and then I walk slowly, feeling as if I’m treading on a dream and at any moment I will wake up from it.

When she points to the spot next to her, I sit down almost reluctantly. She smiles pleased that I joined her and then keeps on tending to a small patch of mushrooms with a quiet and focused attention. I follow her movements as she carefully adjusts the soil and inspects the tiny fungi. There’s a calm grace to her actions, as if she’s in perfect harmony with the little world she created for herself.

And while she does that, I glance at her, noticing how the fairy lights catch in her brown hair, which is adorned with a few small wild flowers. She looks ethereal, making her look like a character from a fairy tale. She always looks wild and natural. Pretty…

For a few minutes, I simply sit in silence, looking at her. She’s unlike anyone I've ever met. The tender care she shows the ugly little mushrooms reflects kindness and attentiveness that shows she really loves doing it.

She has to be from another planet. Because how is it possible that someone as delicate and rare as her exists in this cruel and heartless world.

Unable to stand the quiet any longer, I lean closer to her and whisper while pointing to her mouth, “What happened? Why can’t you talk?” As I speak, my eyes are drawn to the tiny gadget nestled in her ear. It’s so small that you can almost miss it as it blends with the long strands of her curly hair.

For a second, I think my question offended her. Because when she glances at me, her expression is gentle but sad.

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