The Perfect Flower

“Mommy, oook”

Her perfectly shaped lips formed an O as she drew out the word. She bounded forward, racing toward her new discovery. A flower. There, in the middle of the sidewalk, as a beacon of the undeniable season that lies ahead. I remembered our spring days last year, soaking up the sunlight like a sponge after enduring the never-ending winter.

Sara bent down low to observe the treasure; her bottom almost touching the ground. Her plump little finger stroked the pale orange petals, the color of sun just peeking over the horizon, carefully aware of their delicate nature. At only three and a half, her wisdom surpassed my own. She moved purposefully through spaces, surveying everything. Her curiosity led us down endless rabbit holes, chasing her imagination day after day. She was hope, wrapped up in a blanket and handed to me. She cured me, saved me, made me. The salt burned my eyes as I wiped the tears away. Not now, not in this perfect moment. 

I bent down next to her to survey the flower. 

“Should we pick it?” I asked, already knowing the answer. 

“Oh, no. It is too boo-tiful to pick.” 

“It is beautiful,” I answered, staring at her tight blond, almost sunlight white, curls and green eyes, trying to memorize all the parts of her. 

I reached over and kissed the top of her head. The smell of strawberries filled my senses, the only shampoo she loved. Her dad would not buy it. He said she should use the same shampoo as everyone else, but it stung her eyes and did not smell as sweet. I wanted to carry her scent with me everywhere I went. I was so afraid I would forget something and then it would be lost forever. I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture, whatever I could do to remember it all. 

Sara and I stood up just as a man, well-dressed with a focused expression and sad eyes, approached us. My mute hello was met with a brief nod of his head. I moved to the side of the walk, clearing the way for his journey. His footsteps swift, my breath caught as I saw him step on the flower, Sara’s flower, unaware of his destruction of beauty. I looked down to offer Sara my empathy, knowing how deeply she felt the simple things. It proved to be unnecessary, though. She had already started walking away, curls bouncing, chasing her next adventure. 

I felt my watch alarm vibrate aggressively on my wrist. I already knew the time. I had felt each second for the past six months. I rarely slept, afraid that I would miss something, that I would sleep through the moment that would change everything. I had stopped eating, shrinking away until my outside matched my inside, hollow and neglected. Each answer I searched for only led to regret, so many things to regret, nothing to change. 

“Baby Bird, are you ready to go to the airport?” 

The words stuck in my throat, like thick molasses, choking me. Sara only smiled and nodded her head, those strawberry-scented curls showing her excitement. I hailed the cab. 

The events that brought me here seemed hazy, dream-like, disconnected from my own reality. I fell for him the moment I saw his picture. He was captivating, dark eyes that carried an awareness I had never had. When we first spoke, I allowed myself to immediately recognize his accent as my love language. The thousands of miles between us seemed trivial, inconsequential to blooming love. Six months after I first saw his picture, I flew to Turin. We were married two weeks after meeting in person for the first time. 

Sarah arrived three days before our one year anniversary. We had been lucky; Mateo’s temporary Visa was approved at record pace compared to others we talked to. I did not realize how difficult this process could be until I began applying for my own Visa after the most recent court case. In the beginning, we worshipped our relationship as if we had found a new religion. We held each other tightly through every struggle, every celebration, every night. I helped him adjust to a new country; he opened my eyes to his worldly perspective. We were perfect. 

Then, we weren’t. I often thought about my simple act of opening his laptop that day, trying to go back and will myself to walk away from my instincts, now knowing that the information led to the demise of everything I loved. There were others, so many others. His poetic words reserved for me, for us, spat effortlessly to them, depleting our love with every syllable. I cried. I cried every second of every day for a week. 

Soon, my sadness led to anger. My anger correlated with my drinking. He made no excuses; he made no promises. He just left. I called, over and over again, my words snake-like, striking purposefully in order to save my own life. I called his parents, his friends, to explain his betrayal, my deterioration. They spoke soft words to me and told me they understood. They said things would be okay. Then, they kept every message and testified against me, nailing my coffin shut with my lifeless body barely breathing inside. 

The lowest point was when I showed up to get Sara on a rainy day, drops falling, making my boots slosh back and forth as I walked. The rain was not the only thing affecting my stride. The alcohol clung to my breath and provided a sense of bravery that did not exist without it. Thankfully, Mateo did not let Sara go with me. I know enough to be appreciative of that. 

After I filed for divorce, my desire for revenge blinded me to everything else. I managed to get him fired for reasons I would rather not relive. I took him to court over and over again, selling everything I owned for my lawyer. She told me to stop at one point but we both knew her paycheck increased with each act of vindictiveness. I demanded sole custody, although he agreed to joint, although he was a good dad, although we both deserved to raise our daughter. And then, I won. His Visa was revoked. I was elated, Sara and I would finally live happily ever after. 

The truth is that Sara would not live happily ever after, nor would I. My actions changed our future. My actions slowly and painfully took our life away. 

Whenever I do close my eyes, my mind plays the same gory scene over and over again. The court felt they had no choice. Full custody to the father, in another country, without the mother. I had looked at my lawyer to explain what I just heard. My jaw slack, I was sure there had been some sort of mistake. I was unprepared, unwilling to understand what was happening. She had put a hand on my back. It was the last thing I remembered before I collapsed. 

I stopped drinking. I went to counseling. I apologized. I appealed. I requested a million reviews. I wrote a million letters. I lost my perfect little girl with her curious jade eyes and infectious smile. Now, I headed to the airport in our final moments of the only life she knew.

Mateo was already at the airport when we arrived, standing like a guard over his domain, prepared for attack if necessary. Sara ran to him, the small backpack I had slipped over her arms slapping carelessly against her back. He held his hands outstretched and she found her place within them. To everyone else, the moment was saccharine-sweet, a loving father embracing his angelic daughter. To me, the removal of my heart, the theft of my being, the end of everything existed in the small space between them. 

He nodded when I approached, tense and unapologetic, as if this was the last formality before his true life begins. We walked to security together, my fingers intertwined with Sara’s, perfectly positioned as though they had found their home. 

I felt the tick of time winding down. My body was panicked, shaking and painful, as though every nerve ending was coming undone. I bent down to eye-level with my little savior, my breath, my life. She smiled, unaware of the gravity and the consequences. She wrapped her arms around my neck, kissed my cheek. Her finger, with the same delicate touch she had given the flower just an hour ago, reached out and brushed away my tears. 

“It’s okay, Mommy. It’s okay” Her hand patting my back as I had done so many times before to comfort her. 

I swallowed hard, knowing I had to survive this moment. I had promised to not take Sara’s innocence away by replacing it with guilt. 

“Sara, I love you more than the whole world, more than sunsets, and ice cream, and dancing barefoot in the kitchen. You taught me everything I know that matters. You taught me how to be a whole person, how to chase rainbows, how to see the world as beautiful. You are my sunshine and you forever will be. I know you are going to have such a wonderful time with your dad. I know you will have so many adventures and I cannot wait to hear about them…” 

A sobbed escaped. I took a breath, feeling my time ticking down. 

“I do not know exactly when I will see you again, but I am going to get to you the second I can. I am going to forever do everything I can to get to you. And we can talk on the phone and video-chat like we used to do with Grandma, remember?” 

Face serious, little curls bouncing with her nod. 

“I will forever be your biggest fan. You, my sweet baby bird, are the best thing that has or will ever happen to me.” 

I pulled the envelope out of my purse. ‘Sweet Sara’ written across the front in my scrawled handwriting. 

“I wrote you a letter. You are becoming a great reader and I want you to keep practicing every day just like we have. Until you can read the whole thing, I made you a CD, like we play in the car, of me reading it to you.” 

Her green eyes brightened, and a smile spread over her face. 

“Like a book on tape?” she said, her excitement palpable. 

She loved books on tape, which were actually on CD. She asked for a new one each time we went to the department store until it had become a Friday tradition. She would pull out the shiny CD, carefully place it in the player, and lose herself in the story. 

“Exactly like a book on tape,” I answered. 

Her eyes fell slightly, concerned. 

“I on-wee know how to use the CD pwayer at our house.” 

Deep breathe. 

“Baby bird, I am sure your dad will help you.” 

Sara and I both looked up at Mateo with the same anticipation. He nodded. 

“Of course,” he assured us. 

I turned her around and slipped the envelope into her backpack. She giggled as I twirled her again to face me. I latched onto her, holding her tight to me, breathing in her scent deeply, praying to wake up from this. I knew it was time, I knew my promise, I knew the consequences, but I could not let her go. 

I felt Mateo reach down for her as my grasp tightened. Sara began to squirm under the pressure, trying to free herself from my demise. 

“Rachel, please. Remember what we talked about.” 

Mateo’s voice, so calm and controlled. My sobs echoing throughout the airport, unhidden, unhinged. 

Finally, I released her. She looked at me with curious eyes, trying to pinpoint the pain, to understand if she needed to redefine her current situation. She felt happy to be going with her dad, a big adventure awaiting, but she could not quite pinpoint why that made me so sad. A permanence she could not comprehend. 

Mateo reached down and took Sara’s hand. Her fingers effortlessly intertwined in his, as they had with mine. A product of our love, the one thing we did absolutely right. 

“I wove you so big, Mommy. I will miss you, but I will see you soon. Wemember, to wook in the sky for our star.” 

“Oh, sweet Sara, I will. The biggest and brightest star just for us, to show that we are not that far away.” 

Mateo looked down and nodded slightly, a signal that it was time to go. In a rare form of humanity that we had not used in years, he touched my arm. 

“We will call you as soon as we get there,” he said. 

Then, I watched my entire life walk away. My splintered heart finally shattered into a million tiny pieces, displacing themselves throughout my body, the pain slowly killing me. I fell to the floor as the people hurried around me, anxious to get to loved ones or work commitments. I sat shocked that the world could carry on, that there was still a world at all. 

My technicolor existence had turned a deep gray, the color of storms over the sea, harsh and unrelenting. Sara had illuminated everything, each step glowing brighter than before. Without her, nothingness enveloped me, stealing all of my tomorrows. My mind flashed to the emptiness that each day would hold. 

There was no one to make pancakes for, the kind where we add neon food coloring and cover in syrup and whipped cream. There was no one to win in UNO, and spontaneous races, and staring contests. There were no walks to the park, hands intertwined, endless chatter I relished. There was no one to point out the beautiful flowers that somehow grew through sidewalk cracks. 

I was that flower, somehow emerging through the sidewalk with Sara. Somehow surviving against all odds because she was with me. Without her, I am crushed under the weight of life’s existence. 

Without Sara, there is no miracle, no perfect flower, no springtime, no hope - only nothingness. Forever nothingness - until I hold her again.