Clara by Falodun Sadie

Why do flowers die? Why do good people die? I am thinking about this solemnly holding one of the flowers that our neighbour , Mrs Harriet brought . I had refused to put them in water when my mum  called my name loudly from the door ,her broad voice travelled up to me in my disheveled room. I was too deep in greif to tend to my girly pink room.

" Clara ,come and put this flower in water so they won't die! "She shouted again. The statement sounded ironical ,somewhat funny Dad is dead ,so who cares if a flower from Mrs Harriet's garden dies. I heard her say " bye" through her nose in her tiny voice . Most  whites always seem to speak through their nose. I heard the door slam ,I hear skirt swish and feet walking, then I heard mum and dad room's door slam. I dive under my blanket and cry, I taste the salty water slipping onto my lips and then sleep off.

I awoke the next morning my head aching from weeping ,I wash my face ,and I go down the stairs,  I walk into the kitchen and find the flower on the dinning ,the flower is dead already just like father, it was a white lily a very beautiful one. And I wonder why good people do  , why did this beautiful flower die. Why am I not the one dead. Ever since we got to the United kingdom ,and I turned sixteen I have always given Mom and Dad problems most especially Dad cos he loved me the most.I drank , I smoked ,partied with Chris, my biracial classmate and boyfriend, his mother was English and his father Nigerian. I didn't really mean to be bad, it was just my way of letting go of the frustration, mother and father were going through a  divorce and they had the effrontery to tell me, did they ever consider me? I was their only child , their only pampered child , the reason they moved from Nigeria to the United kingdom;they wanted me to have a better life. 

But I regret it now I regret that I had to retort back in that manner. Daddy's last look at me was a look of disappointment before he died. I was drunk and reeling and stinking. Then he just loosened his tie and ran upstairs and then the next morning he was dead . He had an heart failure in the middle of the night from his sleep. He practically died because of me his blood pressure got too high and he probably worried all night about me before he slept that night. Mummy says I am not the reason, Dad had a bad day at work, the  law firm in which he works was retrenching and it was mostly likely to hit the blacks and immigrants. But I know I am the reason, I feel so bad . I want to be Dad's little princess again ,I want to go to the mall with him like when I was little and take pictures and slurp ice cream with him and buy toys, maybe I am too old for toys . But, I want to have that feeling I had when I hang out with Dad. I miss making mum jealous with Dad, I miss his smile and tickles . Maybe I want to go back in time, to when I was seven, milk teeth and short cornrows with beads ,short as the orange couch in our orange and white themed living room back at Nigeria, I want to climb on it arms and hop into Daddy's muscular brown arms ,I want to hold his face like I hold Chris's face sometimes and kiss him on the cheek,a peck . I want him to sing "Que Sera" to me and intercept father for mother like he always does when he sings it at the top of his baritone voice . I want him to feed me cereal ,and I want him to clean the milk that dribbles down my little mouth. He will then kiss me on my shiny black forehead . And mum's voice would speak softly at the background

"You pamper this girl too much"

" She is my little princess" Dad would say ,And I would grin ,revealing my white teeth , the canines fallen out already. As I throw the dead flower into the bin ,a tear drops into it from my swollen eyes red as scarlet. I turn around and there stands mum ,crying I fall into her arms and she embraces me. We rarely hug ,we last did seven months ago before I started to rebel and it was my birthday. 

" Clara" Mum calls but I don't reply ,Dad is standing in front of me, in his favorite suit the ash one with a red suit and a black tie and he is smiling, I wonder if I am imagining this,and then he speaks " you are my little princess, Clara"

And then everything goes dark.