My eyes roamed over her, taking in her appearance. The gray in her hair. The lines on her face. How small and frail she looked now. This woman used to feel invincible to me. She was the person I ran to when things got bad.
Now, I’d lost that safe haven. I’d lost my rock, the person who sheltered me from the storms and weathered them with me. It was now time for me to be that for her. I had to be invincible.
I had to be her safe haven and shelter her from this storm. From all storms. I would do that for her. I would be that rock. I would always be her Little Flower. But this flower had thorns. And I would use any means necessary to keep her safe.
Leaning in, I pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and whispered, “Good night, Mama. Sweet dreams.”
Grabbing my purse, I left the room, gently closing the door behind me. I followed the sound of the television to the living room, where Nancy was watching a cooking show rerun. She looked up when she heard me approaching.
“How is she?” Nancy asked.
“She’s sleeping,” I told her, sitting down on the couch next to her.
“Good. She needs her rest. I’m glad you could calm her down.”
“I hate seeing her like this,” I muttered, staring at the television screen, but not truly seeing it. “She would hate this, too. She wouldn’t want this. I mean, no one would. But she was always the life of the party. Always flitting about. She was a stubborn woman who could run circles around everyone in the shop. And she always took care of everyone, even though she hated to ask for help when she needed it. She would wake up at night, bake dozens of muffins, and bring them to the shop for everyone. Now, she can’t be left alone. She can’t enjoy life. She can’t...”
Getting choked up, I went silent. Nancy rubbed my shoulder.
“It’s not fair. Life’s not fair,” Nancy told me. “Getting old is natural. But this...” she shook her head.
“This feels so cruel,” I whispered. “I try not to question God. But I... I can’t see a reason for this. Are... are we being punished for the things we’ve done over the years?” I asked, feeling the tears threatening to fall again.
“Sweetie, no. There are far worse people out there who deserve to be punished. Not us. Our goal is to help people. It may seem unorthodox to some. But our unorthodox ways have saved many lives. They saved mine. Your mom saved me. I ran into her shop over thirty years ago, bruised and battered after escaping my now ex-husband’s car. I ran into her shop and said one word:Help. And your Mom and Tracy rushed forward and did just that. Your mom locked the store up and turned the sign to closed. And Tracy rushed to my side, telling me she was a nurse and asking me where I was hurt. I stared into the faces of thosetwo women, two black women, and wondered,why the hell are they helping me?You see, my ex was all about white power. My parents had forced me to marry the bastard. And all I’d heard for years was that black people were against us. I never experienced it. Never seen him experience it. But it was what he talked about all day, every day. People who think that way are just obsessed with black people and feel inferior to them. Yet, those people he said were against us were the ones who protected me from him. All I could think was, I’m glad I ran into this shop. Because had I gone anywhere else on that strip, those white women would have shoved me out.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. I ran up to another door first, and a young blonde was standing in her door, cleaning her windows. Her gaze moved over me. Then she quickly locked her door and pretended she didn’t see me.”
“Well...damn.”
“I know. I moved on to the next shop. And they let me in. They didn’t only let me in, they helped me. When Frank came to the door, knocking, saying he saw me enter in here. Your Mom told him to get away from her store. He called her a hateful word and told her to shut the fuck up. Embarrassment ran all over me at that, and I started apologizing for him. Then Tracy looked at me and said, “You’re apologizing for him. Do you think the same way he does?”
“That sounds like Tracy.”
Nancy chuckled. “I told her no. She nodded and asked me who Frank was. I explained my situation, how he... when he got low on funds, he let his friends....”
“You don’t have to say it, Ms. Nancy.”
“When Tracy and Cami heard that, they were enraged. They told Frank he couldn’t come into their store, but if he went to the side gate, they’d give me to him. The bastard did. And that was the last day I saw him alive. They set it up and made it look like he’d taken his own life. Then they told me if I told anyone, they’d do the same to me.”
Nancy laughed.
“I had no interest in telling. I was happy to be free of that man. Free of his debts. Free of his hatred and the evil that surrounded him. But in losing him, I realized he was all I had. I couldn’t go back to my family. They’d just sell me again. They were poor, living in a trailer park, unable to take care of themselves. It was your mom who took me in. She let me work in the shop.”
Nancy wiped tears from her eyes.
“I think it was just to keep an eye on me at first,” she continued. “But soon, we became friends, and they told me about The Circuit and The Petals and offered me a position in the intel hub. I was sent to Camp of Flowers, just like you kids were when you got older. And there, I learned life skills and survival skills. I got my CNA license and started working at a nursing home while working part-time for the Intel Hub. They didn’t just save me. They changed my life. Sure, they killed my ex. But he didn’t deserve to live. Trust me. What he did to me wasn’t even the worst of who he was. I said all that to say, the shop, your family, the Petals, they help people. They save lives. There are many who can tell a story of how your mom or grandma saved them. And they don’t discriminate. Just look at the intel hub they’ve built. Women of all races work for you all, trust you all, and are loyal to you all. In one way or another, you’ve changed all of theirlives. So no, sweetie, this isn’t a punishment. This is life. And life has its ups and downs. We can’t change what’s happening. All we can do is protect her and be there for her. Okay?”
I nodded, understanding what she was trying to tell me.
“I’m just... I don’t even have a word for what I’m feeling,” I said.
“You’re tired,” Nancy told me.
My gaze moved to hers. “I’m not saying my mom is tiresome...”
“I know that. And even if you do find yourself thinking that one day, it’s okay. You’re human. Life can become too much sometimes. You're allowed to be tired, Blossy. You’re allowed to be angry and frustrated. You’re allowed to cry and want to throw in the towel.”
