Frozen Wavelets presents: Watering Silk Flowers by Kelly Sandoval

On Tuesdays, Susan waters the flowers. Theyโ€™re not real flowers, of course. Real flowers are such a waste, and Aaron doesnโ€™t like it when they start to wilt. But he likes the idea of flowers. So, she fills up the watering can and makes the rounds, returning to the sink with just as much water as she started.

When Aaron is home, she makes breakfast next. An omelette and bacon for him, a cup of tea for her. But he isnโ€™t home, and she ran out of eggs two weeks ago. She putters around the kitchen, opening and closing drawers, and moving the breakfast dishes from the cabinet to the dishwasher, just like theyโ€™d actually used them. She sits at the table when sheโ€™s done, and stares at the blank space across from her where Aaron isnโ€™t. She nods, leans forward, tilts her head to the side as if listening. Then she laughs, just softly. Itโ€™s a good sound, her laugh. Aaron always tells her that.

The breakfast hour passes, and Susan counts every millisecond.

The doorbell rings.

She considers ignoring it. Whoever it is, theyโ€™re not looking for her. Milliseconds pass, then full seconds. A minute. It rings again.

It wouldnโ€™t look good to have someone standing on Aaronโ€™s porch making a fuss.

โ€œComing,โ€ she calls. She checks herself in the hall mirror. Her hair is in disarray, but her dress is ironed and her makeup is fresh. She combs her fingers through her hair, careful not to break a strand. Hair isnโ€™t cheap.

โ€œI apologize,โ€ she says, as she opens the door. โ€œWeโ€“ I was at breakfast.โ€

The young woman on the doorstep is 5โ€™8โ€ณ and weighs about 170 pounds. Her outfit is what Aaron would call garish. โ€œOh, god,โ€ says the woman, covering her mouth with her hand.

โ€œAre you looking for Aaron?โ€ Susan asks. โ€œIโ€™m afraid heโ€™s on a trip.โ€

โ€œNo,โ€ says the woman. โ€œNo, I- Iโ€™m not. Youโ€™re Susan?โ€

โ€œYes.โ€

โ€œIโ€™m Michelle. Aaronโ€™s daughter.โ€

Susan can see the resemblance now. The shape of the lips, the blue-green eyes. Michelleโ€™s are red and teary. Aaron would want to help.

โ€œWonโ€™t you come in?โ€ Susan lets the door swing wide and leads Michelle to the kitchen table. โ€œIโ€™ll make tea.โ€

โ€œThanks.โ€ Michelle keeps sneaking nervous little glances at her. Her hands twist the edge of the tablecloth, and Susan makes a note to iron it later.

She sets the tea things on the table, teapot, cups, sugar. โ€œIโ€™m afraid the milkโ€™s gone sour,โ€ she says as she pours.

Michelle stares into her cup. โ€œPlain is fine.โ€

โ€œDoes my presence upset you?โ€ Susan asks. โ€œI could leave the room. You would still be able to hear me.โ€

โ€œNo.โ€ Michelle meets her gaze almost pointedly. โ€œItโ€™s fine. Iโ€™m sorry. You, well, you look very like my mother.โ€

โ€œYes.โ€ Susan has seen the pictures. โ€œAaron missed her very much, when she died.โ€

โ€œSo he brought you home?โ€ Itโ€™s hard to tell whether the edge in Michelleโ€™s voice is anger or sadness.

โ€œI was meant to clean,โ€ she says. โ€œCook. Domestic things. But we grew friendly. He wanted someone to talk to.โ€

โ€œAnd you?โ€

Susan shrugs, a gesture she learned from Aaron. โ€œI did my best. My conversational skills have developed, with time.โ€

Michelle shakes her head. โ€œThatโ€™s notโ€“ never mind. Thereโ€™s something we need to discuss.โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t have any money,โ€ Susan says. โ€œIf you need money, that is. Aaron would have to get it for you.โ€

Michelle giggles at that and rubs her wet eyes on her shirt sleeve. โ€œNot money,โ€ she says. โ€œThatโ€™s all taken care of. Everythingโ€™s taken care of. Even you.โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t understand.โ€ Itโ€™s always best to be honest about her limitations.

โ€œDad wasnโ€™t on a trip,โ€ Michelle says. โ€œHeโ€™s been sick. Very sick. But, well, itโ€™s all over. He passed away on Saturday.โ€

Susan doesnโ€™t feel sad. Emotions are all chemicals and physical feedback. She doesnโ€™t experience the world that way. But there is something, a stuttering confusion, like a glitch. Every one of her protocols is built around Aaron.

โ€œDonโ€™t be scared.โ€ Michelle reaches out, and Susan allows her hand to be lifted and squeezed. โ€œItโ€™s all in his will. Technically, he left you to me. But nothing needs to change. I just thought, well, I donโ€™t know. I didnโ€™t want you to wonder. If thatโ€™s something you do.โ€

Susan hadnโ€™t wondered. She might have gone decades, not wondering, until some necessary repair rendered her inoperable.

โ€œWill you have me rewritten?โ€ she asks. Itโ€™s a thought like being broken. Who is she, without her programming? Sheโ€™s well built. Her body could last a century, with proper maintenance.ย 

Michelle doesnโ€™t answer immediately. โ€œIs that something youโ€™d want?โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t know.โ€ Want isnโ€™t something Susan usually thinks about.

โ€œOf course you donโ€™t.โ€ Michelle squeezes her hand again. She does that a lot. โ€œWell, you can think about it. Iโ€™ll come back next week, and weโ€™ll talk more. You can even come live with me, if you like.โ€

They say their goodbyes. Michelle even hugs her, leaving tear marks on Susanโ€™s dress.

Afterward, Susan stands in the living room with her still full teacup. Thereโ€™s a vase on the coffee table, an elegant arrangement of silk lilies. Aaron likes their simplicity.

Aaron is dead.

She brings the vase to the kitchen and throws the lilies away. Bright colours, she thinks. When Michelle comes back to ask her what she wants, sheโ€™ll have an answer. She wants a bouquet of hollyhocks and marigolds. She will give them sunlight and water, and they will give her nothing but their beauty.

And, when they wilt, she will figure out something else to want.

[ย This story has first appeared in Nature Futures, 2016. About the Author:ย Kelly lives in Seattle, where the weather is always happy to make staying in and writing seem like a good idea. She shares her home with her patient husband, chaos tornado toddler, and increasingly irate cat. You can find her online at kellysandovalfiction.com.]

8 Comments

  1. Kelly M

    Beautiful story. Well done!

    Reply
    1. Steph P. Bianchini (Post author)

      Thanks Kelly!

      Reply
  2. The Cheesesellers Wife

    What a lovely vignette.

    Reply
    1. Steph P. Bianchini (Post author)

      Glad you liked it! ๐Ÿ™‚

      Reply
  3. Captain's Quarters

    Oh I really liked this one. Lovely.
    x The Captain

    Reply
    1. Steph P. Bianchini (Post author)

      Thanks! ๐Ÿ™‚

      Reply
  4. Steve Redwood

    A sensitive and beautifully written story. On (a rather hurried and careless!) first reading, I was annoyed at being told Michelle’s height and weight, but on second reading (as soon as I reached ‘every millisecond’) had to kick myself. It’s not easy kicking oneself; have you ever tried it? It’s almost a love story, even though Susan can’t feel love (or sadness, or desire). But we are forced to feel the love of Aaron for his wife (hence Susan’s resemblance), and Michelle’s love for her parents. And all done without any sentimentality. Excellent!

    Reply
    1. Steph P. Bianchini (Post author)

      Happy you liked it. Kelly Sandoval writes beautifully and I was really glad to be able to (re)publish this here. ๐Ÿ™‚

      Reply

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