Evergreen Everleigh - The Wattys 2020

Chapter Forty - Maze of Misfortunes

**Trigger Warning: This chapter mentions suicide and deals with the emotions related to suicide very heavily. Please read with caution, skip entirely if necessary. Take care - Jen x**

Chapter Forty 

Maze of Misfortunes

We sit together, surrounded by the sound of buzzing insects burrowing through the hornbeam hedges of the garden maze. Though the maze is mostly for decoration and I can easily see over the hedges when I stand to my full height, there is something undeniably magical about sitting at the centre of maze among friends. 

It is late in the afternoon and the sun is beginning to cast long shadows behind each of us. We are all panting and clutching at stitches in our sides from our alarmingly competitive game of stuck-in-the-mud. Teasel only agreed to take a break when Willow's exercise-induced asthma caused her to dash back to the house for her inhaler and Yarrow was sneezing fitfully from hay fever allergies.

"Why was running so much less painful when we were little kids?" Sweet Pea whines, plucking a glass water jar from the cooling box we placed in the centre of the maze, safety stashed next to Wister, who had barely looked up from his book during our wild game. Violet was nestled in his lap and he read quietly to her as she babbled quietly and plucked at the grass. His eyes appeared nearly lifeless and his cardigans seem to hang off of him more loosely these days. The pain of Aloe's attempt was deeply etched into Wister's every movement.

I fall back onto the grass and close my eyes, listening to the sound of nearby honeybees and wasps, flitting from pollen source to pollen source that Lady Lavender had interspersed artistically throughout the maze. The delectable smells of honeysuckle, Lily of the Valley, and scented primrose are almost dizzying. Freesia Fields in the summertime is an experience as unique as the sunny afternoons spent on my grandparent's farm with the cattle, hoping from straw bales onto the top of the tractor beds. 

I flinch when something cold touches the tip of my nose. Opening my eyes, I spy Perennial dangling a strawberry over my face, luring me out of my sleepy meditative state. Her small face is alight with a dimmed kind of joy that is entirely unique to Perennial.

"Want some?" She asks her voice a beautifully quiet rhythm. I nod, allowing her to pop the strawberry into my mouth. When I nearly swallow it whole and have to sit up, choking and spluttering, the little kids laugh and Yarrow hands me a glass bottle of water, his eyes full of amusement. 

The joy of this moment is shortlived as a shadow falls over me and I look up to see that Lady Lavender has joined us, with a guest in hand. A hissing Mr. Flurry leaps from Lady Lavender's arms and lands with a few grumpy growls as he surveys us as though he couldn't have possibly missed us during his stint at the vet's, recovering from surgery. 

Aster, Juniper, and Teasal squeal in delight and run towards the cat, who instantly flees into the maze. The children give chase and I see Wister give Lady Lavender a questioning look. She returns this with a sad shake of her head. Wister gets up, holding Violet closely. 

"Why don't you sit, Lavender? I'll go see where the other rascals got off to and get them a spot of lunch," He says, his voice quivering more and more with each word. When Sweet Pea stands to take Violet from him, Wister pats her shoulder gently and promises to take her inside for her afternoon nap. 

Lady Lavender sits now with her legs to the side, like a true lady. Sweet Pea's soft brown eyes meet mine and my stomach turns, guessing at what is to come. Willow and Cedar clasp hands, Perennial freezes, her eyes trained on the grass, and Yarrow closes his eyes. 

"Aloe died this morning," Lady Lavender says, look each of us in the eye in turn. She does not flinch away from the information but gives us the courtesy of an honest announcement. 

"But... I thought..." Yarrow begins, his hands curled to fists around tufts of grass. We all know what he was going to say. We thought she survived. Survived because I had clasped my hands around her wrists, to save her life-force. 

The knowledge of what must have happened comes to me suddenly, bringing with it a tsunami of heartache. 

"She tried again, didn't she?" I ask. When I see Willow begin to shake, her sky blue ribbon fluttering in the light breeze, pulling with it several strands of white-blonde hair, I reach back and take her other hand. 

Lady Lavender nods, her face grave.

"Her family took her home from the hospital, choosing for her not to return to Freesia Fields." 

So, she had done it at home. Bile rises in my throat and my heart rate spikes as flashes of my own small ensuite bathroom barge their way, uninvited through the rickety bridge of recovery I have cultivated with Wister. Blood on white tiles, pooling around my weighing scales - I snatch my hand back from Willow and cover my mouth, wondering if I will throw up or pass out. 

Wordlessly, Lady Lavender scoots forward and gestures for us to hold hands. With slick palms, I told onto Yarrow and Willow tightly. It is nearly painful to be this close to them, to feel the tremors of their feelings coursing through their veins, passing through my suddenly too-thin skin and bullying me into submission until, before long, their emotions are mine and all remnants of me have disappeared.

"I think it is appropriate for us to acknowledge Aloe in our thoughts, perhaps not with a prayer, but a wish. A wish for peace." 

So that is what we do. We wish for better for Aloe, in whatever comes after this life. Afterward, Perennial wraps her arms around herself and Cedar wipes tears from his eyes. When Yarrow attempts to put an arm around my shoulder and jerk away from him, unable to fathom having someone touch me and add to the sensory pain this brings. 

It does not take long for the thought to creep into my mind. What if I see her as a ghost?

I think of Aloe and wonder if she died with her green ribbon tied around her ponytail. The thought of her sharp words, cutting and cruel remind me of a quote I read in Jayne Ellis' book. 

Do you wish to understand my snake's tongue? Everyone has tried but no one has listened. You call yourself a threat, with the fortitude of ice. Remember - you melt, I bite. 

Aloe certainly knew how to bite, though I understand what it is to lash out to hide the self-loathing within. My palm stings with the phantom pain of when I slapped Aloe across the cheek for exposing the secrets of my diary. 

I close my eyes tightly for a moment, before opening them. Before I can understand why I begin to tell a story. A story I told myself once in the bathroom off my childhood bedroom. About a girl, nestling into the soft waves of a warm cave, seeking comfort. 

A/N: 

Hello friends, 

This chapter has been a long time coming, but still hurt to write. I hope this made you feel something - perhaps a reminder that you are not alone. 

Jens x