Page 2 of Lily In The Valley
I stared at the flowers, taking in their scent. “So, I could give these to a girl, and be like I gave you these ‘cause you my friend?”
Ms. Sonya raised her eyebrow, looking at me suspiciously. “Khalil, you got some girl you sniffing around?”
“No, ma’am. Not right now. I’m just taking notes for later.” I laughed off.
“Umm huh.” She smirked. We walked past a low shelf filled with shrubs with some tiny flower buds that looked like weeds.
“What are those?”
“Those are sweet olive shrubs. Tough little things. They can take any kind of beating and still bloom. Just like us. No matter the hurricane or floods, we always come back, stronger and prettier.”
“What’s your favorite flower, Ms. Sonya?”
“I love me some lilies. Which one you like?”
I thought back over all the meanings she’d told me. The roses and sunflowers were cool. So were the sweet olive bushes. They didn’t do anything for me. I thought about the lily arrangement she was working on early, and how she said they stood for purity and restored souls. It was what I hoped my mama found after she left.
“I think I like lilies, too.”
Ms. Sonya walked over to a bucket closest to the register and picked a bold pink flower with white edges and dark spots. “Here. You can have this one. Now, go get your backpack. I got some food at the house you can have for dinner. Your auntie said she’d be a little late picking you up.”
“Ms. Sonya,what kind of monkey my mama got on her back?” I asked, breaking into the silence of the kitchen, save for the small TV on the kitchen counter. I pushed around the food on my plate, a healthy heaping of greens and neckbones over rice. “It’s not a gorilla I hope. Them things big as hell. That might break her back, huh?”
“Boy, watch your mouth. I know your daddy taught you better than that,” she scolded, swatting the side of my head. “And no. It’s not a gorilla, but it’s just as heavy.”
“So like an orangutan?”
Ms. Sonya let out a laugh from deep in her belly. “Yeah, like an orangutan, I guess.” She stopped eating and stared at me, a thought going back and forth between her eyes. “You been thinking about your mama, Khalil?”
“Yeah, a little bit. I don’t know much about her. My daddy don’t talk about her either.” I picked some meat from the neckbones, letting the savory flavor linger on my tongue as I chewed.
“Stop eating with your fingers.” Ms. Sonya passed me a napkin. “And listen to this. Sometimes, people go through things, and it’s nothing we can do about it but let them go through it. We can want to save somebody from hurting, but if they ain’t ready to be saved, that’s just got to be it. You hear me?”
I shook my head. “Do you think she’ll ever come back?”
“I don’t know and–” Screeching tires and the front door opening startled the both of us. Ms. Sonya rose from the table, grabbing a nearby knife. I followed close behind, sticking close to the walls.
Ms. Sonya’s daughter, Charisse, walked into the house, holding the hand of her daughter, Kelly. She looked sad and a bit confused, like how I felt whenever I thought about where my mama was.
Ms. Sonya didn’t look happy, which was rare. She normally had a smile as warm as a summer night in New Orleans.
“Girl, what the hell you doing here? And, why you slamming doors like you ain’t got a lick of sense?”
“Mama, not now. I’m not in the mood.” Charisse huffed through the house, dropping off the duffel on her shoulders by the stairs.
“You got some damn nerve, walking in here like you pay the damn bills. And why you got this girl on the road, late as it is?”
“Mama, I can’t take it. I am done dealing with his big-headed ass.”
“Y’all go watch TV in the kitchen. Kelly girl, I’m gonna come make you a plate in a second. Fix you some Kool-Aid.”
The two of us walked back to the kitchen, Kelly looking at the floor the entire way. She stayed quiet as she poured herself a glass of the sweet red drink, then walked over to sit next to me at the kitchen table. Silently, we watched the reruns ofThe Jamie Foxx Show.
“You alright?” I asked, finishing my plate of food.
“Yeah,” she replied. Her voice was soft, but firm. It reminded me of when you had to say thank you when someone gave you a birthday card with no money in it. Back in the front room, we could hear Kelly’s mother and grandmother going at it. They were talking loudly, but I could tell they were trying not to. It was something about Kelly’s dad and her mother needing a break from his big-headed ass.
“You sure you okay?” I asked, turning the volume down on the TV. “And don’t lie.”
