Answer and Explanation:
Not much had changed. Our neighborhood was still poor, just less miserable. As I approached Miss Lottie’s house, my heart began to sink. She had not lost her desire to bring some beauty into this world. There it was, a garden filled with marigolds just like the one I once killed. I say killed because I now know what I did was something like murder. Killing someone else’s hopes and dreams, because my own had been shattered.
I planned on saying all that to her. I knocked and waited. Slow, dragging footsteps reached the door; veiny, trembling hands opened it.
In a matter of seconds we sat facing each other in her dark kitchen. I tried to avert my gaze, but to no avail. She didn’t seem to bother. I began.
“I’m sorry.” There was nothing else I could have said, no better ice-breaker. As she remained silent, I carried on. “Miss Lottie, I’m sorry about that evening, about ruining – killing – your marigolds.”
She looked down.
“I have come to apologize and give you an explanation. Not a justification, not an excuse. I just… I’d like you to know what I felt that evening.”
Miss Lottie faced me, her eyes scrutinized my face.
“I had just understood, finally comprehended, how unfair life was. How sad, poor, and unbearable a life we were all doomed to live. My parents, myself, my brother, the children I’d have in the future… And I was angry. I felt impotent, and that is why I was angry. There was nothing I could do,; I was powerless in front of reality.”
Miss Lottie took a deep breath. She finally spoke, her voice hoarse and as old as time.
“Then why my flowers?” There was not accusation in her tone.
“Because they were not reality. They were… beauty. They were hope. They were everything we did not, could not have. I was angry at their existence because they represented a different life. The life none of us would ever have.”
She nodded. A faint smile crossed her lips.
“I knew that already,” she whispered as she got up from her chair. “But it feels nice to finally hear it.”
Miss Lottie was making us some tea all of a sudden. I was stunned. Speechless. She knew all along. She had known all those years. Did that mean she had hated me all the while, or…?
“I never blamed you,” she whispered once more, as if she had read my guilt in my eyes. “How could I? How could you blame yourself?” She sat down once more.
“But Miss Lottie… I shouldn’t have -”
“We all do things we shouldn’t do. We all get carried away by our anger, our fears, our disappointments. You’re only human, dear. Your life and happiness are more precious than a thousand gardens.”
We drank the tea.
