Chapter 5 New Beginnings

Sadness. A thick wall of sadness clouded my being, engulfing me, choking me, making me feel like I was being strangled alive, and the thing strangling me were the stout hands of none other than sadness. My eyes welled up with tears, my eyes glistening. I sobbed, but didn't make a sound doing so. My face twisted as gut wrenching sobs escaped me.

I just couldn't seem to grasp my head around the fact that I was really responsible for my mother's death. It was because of me, her own daughter, that Patricia Brown was not alive any,ore. After I realized that I am the one to be blamed for my mother's sad demise, I had a panic attack, a complete, full-on breakdown. My breathing turned into short rapid breaths, my eyes fogged with tears, and it was funny that I had not dried my eyes out already. I spent the night curled up next to my bed, silently sobbing into the distant night.

Mark and dad didn't seem to notice my quiet behavior and even if they did, they didn't pester me about it. Mark mostly stayed in his room and dad was mostly out of the house for his meetings and office stuff as he wanted to wrap his office work before he left for his business trip to Japan. Also, I thought the work was a nice distraction from mum for him.

After packing my bags and stuff for my stay at the Lewis', I decided that I wanted to do something for my mother, something that could make me feel more connected to her, more attached, and less like a crappy daughter. Yesterday when they put her casket down, I wasn't there. I wasn't there to bid her adieu one last time. And my heart jolted with a deep ache every time I thought of how I failed her as a daughter. I wanted to see her and talk about something. Just the satisfaction of speaking to her while she listened to me, filled me with a warmth. I knew she would listen to me. I knew that. She would be there and would be one good listener while I poured my heart out to her even if I couldn't see her anymore.

Just thinking about the fact that I missed my last chance of seeing her yesterday, a fat tear rolled down my cheeks and I wiped it away with the sleeves of my black and white colored flannel harshly and stood up from my bed. I had made up my mind.

With a motive in my mind, I marched downstairs expecting to see no one in the living room but was a little surprised when I found Mark sitting on the couch staring blankly ahead, his eyes distant. His knuckles were absentmindedly tapping the warm mug of coffee in his hand. Upon hearing my footsteps, he broke out of his reverie from his entranced position and looked at me, startled. His eyes scanned my flannel shirt and and my denims, a surprising change from my clothes these days, questioning me silently. His dark brown eyes, that we both inherited from our dad, looked tired in the very least. Lacking the usual mirth and cheek, they were pooled with a fresh wave of unshed tears.

"I'm going out for a little walk, will be back before seven," I informed him quietly. And, luckily enough for me, he didn't question me further. If he did, I would have told him about my motives for the night and he would tried to stop me.

He would have tried convincing me how it wasn't my fault when I very well knew it was.

As I reached the main door, Mark called out to me. I turned slightly, my brows furrowed.

"Just take care."

And that was it for the small amount of restraint that I had mastered to come tumbling down, and I quickly nodded before leaving. The moment I was out the door, a sob wrecked through me and I sat down on the cold marble. Finally after what felt like an eternity but was a mere five minutes according to my phone, my sobs finally turned into small hiccups and then just some sniffles. When I was positive that another fresh wave of tears would not appear, I stood up and dusted my pants off.

    I decided to ditch my Vespa for the night, and walk instead. It would be the breather I very much needed, and frankly, I could use some fresh air.

     The walk to the cemetery was not too long, and but it wasn't even as close as being five minutes away. It took me almost twenty-five minutes to get there and most of the time, my mind was running through the possible options to keep my mum's legacy alive. My mother was the head chef at 'The Basil Paradise,' a Michelin-Star restaurant. Every time she entered a kitchen, a fierce determination flashed through her eyes and she would take over the kitchen like it was one thing she was meant to do with her life, and she really was. She was such a renowned, well-known, and a people's favourite chef, having multiple articles publish about her and her work.

Just as I was about to take the last turn before I arrived at the cemetery, I saw a small flower shop around the corner. I quickly checked my pocket to feel the presence of my wallet and fished it out. Holding the wallet in my palm, I took long strides and crossed the road, reaching the small flower shop.

'The Petal', the shop was called as and to justify the name, the pleasant smell of multiple unknown flowers hit my nose.

I entered the shop and was greeted by the sight of an old lady sitting behind the counter. Her formerly gorgeous black hair was slowly transitioning into greys. A few wrinkles visible on her olive-toned face but that didn't take away the radiant smile she wore when she saw me. Her smile so infectious, it had me smiling back lightly. For a few moments, her kind smile absorbed all my sadness and I couldn't think of the reason of me being her. But then the reality of the situation hit me and I immediately cleared my throat.

"How may I help you, dearie?" She asked, her smile not inching away even for a second.

"Well, I need some of your best lillies," I answered, smiling politely at her. She just smiled even wider and nodded her head. But she didn't make a move to get them.

Maybe she's deaf? And can't hear you? A voice in mind piped in and I mentally chastised myself. Then how did she nod when I asked her what I want?

"Sam!" Bellowed the old lady. "Pack some of our finest lilies in a bouquet." She turned to me. "White or any other colour, hun?"

"White's perfect, thank you."

And a minute later, a small boy around the age of ten with blonde hair and pale skin, the bridge of his nose covered with freckles entered the front room. His tiny hands held tightly onto the bouquet of exquisite lilies. He stopped in front of us and held his hand out as he offered me the bouquet.

"Here you go pretty girl," said Sam, trying to thicken his child like voice into a smoother one so it can sound like someone from my age but he couldn't. He looked so sweet trying to flirt with me I couldn't keep my lips from grinning.

"Why thank you, handsome boy," I said mirroring his grin, as I accepted the bouquet of lilies from his tiny little hands.

He looked at the old lady, and she said, nodding, "Go ahead, son, ask for her name." He turned to me, his smile never diminishing for a second. His crooked teeth shone at me, and I saw a little tooth-gap between his incisors. Adorable.

"It's Cadence," I said and continued, "I also know your name is Sam. You know I can read minds," I whispered the last part grinning widely into the ear of the small boy while the lady started chuckling loudly. The boy's eyes widened and he gulped audibly. I guess he has bought my little white lie.

"Don't worry, I'm your friend. I will not harm you in any way." His once shaken smile widened again. He held his empty hand out and I looked at it questioningly. He gently took my arm in his tiny ones and shook it like the tiny gentleman he was.

I quickly leaned in and gave him a small peck on his cheek and his cheeks reddened as warmth filled them. When I moved back a little, he didn't waste any opportunity and quickly gave me a peck on my cheeks and grinned cheekily. I chuckled at his cuteness and after paying for the bouquet, greeting them goodbye, I left the little flower shop that filled my insides a little with positivity. I felt stronger now to visit my mom. I felt a little happier but soon my little sick brain reminded me about how I was somewhat to be blamed for my mothers death, and the little sunshine that shone down upon the dark clouds of my mind, vanished.

The next few minutes, whilst trying to keep my emotions at check, I walked down the street. I was standing in front of the cemetery. Inhaling a sharp intake of breath, I made my way towards the gate of the cemetery and pushed open the rusty iron gates.

When I reached the grave, the sight of my own mother's grave knocked the wind out of my lungs and I fell to the ground, fat teardrops rolling down my cheeks. I thought I was strong enough to face her. I was wrong. So wrong.

Patricia Ian Brown.

(24th July 1971 - 29th September 2015)

A loving wife to Ian Brown

And a caring and loving mother to Mark and Cadence Brown.

Looking at the newly carved words at the stone of my mother, my eyes teared up even more if that was possible. But I can't just break down like this. I need to be strong. For her. I just need to be.

Suddenly feeling stronger than before, I exhaled and smiled.

"Hey mom. I know you can listen to me. Even when I can't see you, I know you are with me," I said as I gestured towards my heart and whispered the next words, " in here. You know why I'm here? I'm here to say sorry. I'm here to say sorry because I wasn't there to tell you how much important you are to me. How much I loved you," I said my voice cracking at the end but that didn't stop me. I continued, I knew I had to.

"I'm sorry for running away instead of staying here during your funeral and letting you know just how much I miss you. I'm sorry for fighting at that night just because you allowed me to go to a party when I didn't want to go. I'm sorry for saying that you shouldn't meddle in my life, in my business. When you had every right to. I'm sorry for asking you to go to the grocery store when I should have gone there. It should have been me," I said while most of my sentences were mere whispers, the last one had my voice cracked.

"You know I miss every thing about you even if in the past some of it annoyed me. I miss the way you used to smile. I miss the way you used to laugh at Mark's poor excuses of jokes just to make him happy, I miss the way you used to put your family before anything. It meant you loved us so much and even more. I miss the way you cook, the homey feeling from your food never failed to cease my annoyed moods. I miss you. Everything about you. You were undoubtedly the most beautiful woman I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. I am proud to be your daughter. So damn proud. And from now on, I'll visit you daily and talk to you about my day. But you know what, it should have been me dying that night not you, I am the one to be blamed. I would gladly end my life now if that meant I could save yours mom," I said smiling lightly at the last sentence when another feminine voice broke my little speech.

"We would not want you dying now, would we?" The feminine voice asked and my head spun around so quickly it made me a little lightheaded.

In front of me was a girl around my age, with beautiful red hair and amazing green eyes. She was so pretty that my eyes hurt by just looking at her. I know that there is more to her than her pretty face. Her big doe like green eyes say it all. Her eyes held so much sadness and pain, grief and grim that I almost felt like looking at my own eyes except for the part that my eyes are dark brown and hers are green. But just like mine, her eyes were too sad. It seemed like she was too going through a rough patch.

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to sneak up on you. It's just that I heard you talking to your mother and I couldn't help but connect to you,"she said smiling sadly and suddenly remembered something as she held her hand out in front of me to shake it and said,"oh how silly of me! How can I forget my manners. If my grandma would have been here she would have been disappointed with me. My name is Harriet. Harriet Smith."

I stared at the hand held out in front of me, dumbstruck. Couldn't even find any words to describe how weird at was to meet someone at a damn cemetery. Seeing my hesitation to shake her hand, she chuckled quietly and shook her head.

"I don't bite, you know," she said still chuckling softly and I reluctantly held my arm out and shook hands with her.

"Cadence Brown," I said my name and smiled softly at her. She seemed sad but still her bubbly side didn't vanish just because she was sad.

"Cadence," she said as she tested my name and nodded grinning,"I like your name. It's unique."

"So you are here to meet your mother?"She asked suddenly and my face paled. The little smile playing at the corner of my lips disappeared and I nodded grimly.

"Yes. She died last week," I said quietly and then she did something. Something I didn't expect her to. She pulled me in a huge bone crushing hug and gently whispered sweet nothings in my ear. Wow. She is a stranger and already hugging me. I made a new friend today. Amazing.

"It must have been tough for you right? I mean I lost my parents when I was just five. They died in a car crash, you know. Oh how I am always cursing the inventor of cars. He was such an idiot. But never mind, I hardly have any memories with them. I was just five, how can I honestly remember when I was so small back then? But anyways, it doesn't matter because my father's parents, that is, my grandparents brought me up the way I am. My mother's parents couldn't because they were already dead, you know even before I was born. But yeah my dad's parents were everything I had you know. They loved me, spoilt me and did everything with me like I was their own kid. And just last year, my grandma died out of breast cancer. It was the toughest part of my life after, you know, my parents' death. My grandpa has been very sad but still he manages to stay cheerful for me you know. After a few months of my granny's death, we shifted here because living in Nottingham was tough, you know. So yeah that's my story," she said sighing at the end.

All I could concentrate on during her entire rant was count the number of times she said 'you know' but still I did pay attention to what she had to say about her parents and grandparents. I didn't know what to say so I blurted out what first came to my mind.

"That makes the two of us, you know. Cursing the inventor of cars. My mom too died in a car crash," I said quietly.

And that's when I realized that we both might have more things in common than we show. And that is ladies and gentlemen, how I made myself a new amazing friend, Harriet Smith.