Wildflower Read Online Free Page B

been collecting Jolene’s newspapers and mail since the ‘For Sale’ sign was staked in the yard several months ago, shortly after Idris moved Jolene into the nursing home.  The stack of mail had accumulated so long that Mrs. Taliafero packed it into a Rubbermaid bin.  The newspapers, well… she read them then threw them out.  The news would’ve been old by then, anyway.
    Iris chitchatted with the neighbor and thanked her for the mail.  She had no idea that Idris had put Jolene in a nursing home, or that he’d put the house for sale.  She hadn’t learned any of this until she arrived in Chicago… just in time to watch her mother breathe her last breath.  She would have preferred that Idris demolish the eyesore — burying mom, the house, and all its memories at the same time.
    Once the elderly woman made it back home with the aid of her great grandson, Iris rifled through the bin of mail. The note she’d mailed to her mother was buried in the middle. The pink and yellow envelope with the gold foil seal stood out among the sales flyers, bills, and magazines. She retrieved it from the bin, ripped open the envelope and unfolded the note card inside. It read:
    My dearest mother,
    I’ve spent the better part of my life being haunted by your words, by your mental abuse, by the physical abuse of your husband, by your negligence.  I’ve spent my life surviving my childhood that never was. So, as you bluntly requested, I will comply and pretend you don’t exist. And, when the time comes, I want you to know that your death will mean nothing to me but freedom. The weight of your existence will be lifted off of me and I will finally be free of you and the burden of your dreadful legacy of oppression. – Iris
    She balled the card as tightly as she could and held it close to her heart. She was angry the day she wrote that note and was glad her mother was too ill to receive it.  She had written it after she’d received a rather nasty phone call from Jolene, who reminded her that she was useless.  If Iris could’ve seen past her own pain, she might’ve known that Jolene was just lashing out at her because she was scared and alone. Iris loved her mother, but hated what she became. Nonetheless, she was grateful her mother hadn’t left this world feeling the sorrow that such a note might have evoked.
    Inside the house, she climbed the old creaky stairs that rose to the second floor where all of the bedrooms were located. Rooms where she and Idris spent most of their time. The memories crowded her mind as the familiar smells drew them forward.
    Walking the short corridor, she opened the door to each of the rooms as she passed, where a musty depression escaped and lingered in the air.  She stopped at the small closet outside of the bathroom. Most people kept their linen there, but not her mother, though. She used the linen closet to house her many pairs of shoes.
    Iris remembered when she was a child she used to play with her mother’s high heels and would slide her tiny feet into shoes that swallowed them.  She’d drag-clip, drag-click, and stumble while trying to strut in the stiletto heels. Her mother frowned on it saying that only bad women wore high-heeled shoes, which baffled Iris because her mother owned them.
    Iris shuddered at the realtor’s touch — she had startled her — closed the closet, and turned her attention to the realtor.
    “If you want, I can give the new owners the keys now, but you can stay as long as you need to,” the realtor offered.
    Iris looked around at the sunlight beaming through the bedroom doors, converging in the hallway.  She looked up at the water stained ceiling then around the door frames that had separated from the wall.  She gave some attention to the dull, warped wood floors then turned towards the outdated bathroom where she and Idris were often forced to bathe together… to conserve water.
    She walked to the master bedroom, which was only a few feet away — the house