A Bitter Thorn

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Wheels whirred as her father’s wheelchair zoomed across the red-and-white terracotta floor. He leaned forward, a plaid shirt clinging to his scrawny body like an extra layer of skin. Tracing the leaves of a vibrant pom-pom blue flower, he smiled and rasped, “It’s hydrangea, one of my favorites. Should’ve seen them when they bloomed. Truly magnificent!”

“Yeah. That’s nice,” Rhea groaned, wiping her sticky brow. How can he stand this? It’s like eighty degrees here! Sunlight streamed from the vintage greenhouse windows, bathing the plants with blistering heat. It was a surprise they hadn’t wilted. Or they were just more resilient, unlike her. She gripped her father’s shoulder, his gray hair tangling in her fingers. “How about we take this conversation inside, okay?”

He didn’t look at her.

“Today’s a perfect day for gardening, isn’t it?” he said, licking his pale lips absently.

She rolled her eyes. It was like talking to a brick wall.

Of course, she had expected as much. When she had received the call—barely a day into summer break—Rhea had wanted to ignore it. She had even planned an elaborate excuse, anything to stay away. But after hearing her mother’s calm voice riddled with concern, Rhea was dragged from her shell.

And yet, after five years, nothing had changed.

The phone buzzed, vibrating like a small earthquake. At least there’s something to kill time. Peeling fingers from the toffee-brown purse, she reached for her phone. The darkened screen flickered to life, revealing a glowing bubble of blue text.

It was from Ellie.

Shoelaces slapped her ankles as Rhea strode toward the exit. She glanced over her shoulder, watching her father as he milled the flowerbeds, roots poking from the soil like gnarled fingers. He was muttering again, lost within his fragmented mind.

Dementia taking its toll.

What’s the point in pitying him? The door was within reach, withered vines twirling the latticed threshold. A few more steps and she’d be gone. He doesn’t need me. I’ll just slip out and—

“Long time no see, Rhodie.”

Rhea winced, memories of her long-buried childhood nickname tearing her skin like razor-sharp teeth. A black-haired young man smirked, slouching against the doorway. He crossed his arms, highlighting a colorful assortment of wristbands boasting animal mascot logos. Despite being eight years older, her brother surprisingly had not outgrown this childish quirk.

“What? No big friendly ‘hello’ for your brother?”

“You know I hate that name, Ash.” Great, now I’m stuck dealing with this moron. Something I don’t have time for. “Also, I’m not ten anymore. I’m building a life for myself,” she added, tapping her phone’s glistening case.

“Geesh, I was just kidding Rho. Can’t I goof around with my little sister?” Ash said. With a sigh, he tugged on a wristband, and it snapped against his skin. An explosion of sweat splattered the pale, knotted wood. “It’s just been forever since we’ve talked. I understand college can be stressful at times but…” he hesitated and rolled his jaw, seemingly considering his words carefully. “I’m glad you’re excelling. We all are.”

We?

“Yeah, it has been hard.” She chewed her bottom lip, the sugary strawberry lip gloss barely concealing the earthly aroma of manure crawling over her clothes. With an extraordinary effort, she suppressed the urge to gag. “But, as you know, I’m okay. Been doing so for the past few years. Nothing’s going to change that.”

Ash nodded, his gaze raking over the boiling golden-green jungle. “So, what do you think? Dad’s done a nice touch to the ol’ place.”

“Yeah. Dad’s always had an eye for greenery.” The only thing, apparently.

Silence thickened between them, interrupted only by the distant scratching of wheels among the potted plants.

Her phone vibrated. She bit her tongue as her brother shifted his feet, squinting at her vivid blue screen. Rhea shook her head; the wave of concern vanished as quickly as it came. What did she care what he thought?

Her heart skipped a beat. It was just three little words.

Where are you?

“Who’re you talking to?”

Darn. Rhea paused her frenzied tap-tap typing and stared at her brother. No longer propped against the post, Ash hovered over her. Rhea lowered the phone and hissed, “None of your business.”

“Was it Elizabeth?”

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

A small smug smile. “Thought so. How’s she doing, by the way?”

She shouldn’t be surprised. Of course, Ash would remember Ellie, her best friend ever since. Before she left, they used to make pillow forts in her old pasty-pink room and nibble on her mother’s soft chocolate chip cookies. Occasionally, he would barge in, steal a cookie, and laugh maniacally as they pelted him with pillows.

Ellie had practically been a younger sister to him. Heat surged in her chest. “She goes by Ellie, actually.”

“Well, how’s Ellie doing?”

“Studying for a bachelor’s degree in psychology.”

“I never imagined she could be so committed. She always was the head-in-the-clouds type, remember?” He chuckled. “Sometimes, her hair had these splotches of red, yellow, and green paint. She looked so much like a little flower in spring. Guess we all thought she would be one of those big-time artists you see in museums, y’know.”

“Yeah, well, she changed. We changed. Not like this is any of your concern, anyway. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving.” She jammed her phone in her bag and inched toward the door.

A firm pressure settled on her shoulder.

“You’re going?” Ash blinked, a frown deepening across his smooth skin. It was like he had tugged on a mask, washing away his awkward cheeriness. Typical older brother syndrome. “Where?”

“Where?” she repeated, her tone leaking exasperation. She shrugged, sweeping her arms at the overgrown greenery surrounding them. “Anywhere, if my flesh is not literally melting from my bones. Preferably with adequate air conditioning and a glass of cool iced tea.”

“You can’t be serious,” Ash said, staring at her like she had sprouted an extra head.

“Well. Unless you want to die from heatstroke, come with me. If not, it’s your funeral.”

“But Dad, he—”

Like a match flung onto kindling, Rhea exploded. A fist lashed out, striking his chest with a dull thud. He released a surprised grunt and stumbled back. “What about him, Ash? Because last time I checked, he’s your problem since you’re the one who fawns over him all the time!”

His face twisted into an animal-like snarl. “What the hell is your problem, Rho? You can’t seriously be walking away from this. Didn’t you see him?”

“Yes, and I don’t care,” she said, rubbing her sore knuckles. The skin was a flaming red, sticky with beads of sweat. Who knew that the truth could hurt? But it felt so good, too. Better than lying through gritted teeth. “You know, I never even wanted to come here. I’m here because of Mom. Not him.” Sneakers scuffed against the floor as she threw her hands in the air. “Why didn’t you call Lilly? Or Petunia? Willing to bet they’d have hauled ass in a heartbeat, thrilled to get into this classic family drama.”

“Unbelievable.” A dry, humorless chuckle. “Dad is dying, and you would rather hang around with your friend? In case nothing has sunk in, there are important things happening right now. And if you don’t see them, the opportunity will disappear in a flash.”

“Nice, Yoda, really inspiring. I’m going to write that down—as soon as I’m miles away from your pathetic face. Why you bothered to stick around is beyond me!”

“This isn’t about m—”

“Oh!” She rolled her eyes. “That’s rich coming from you. Not like good ol’ Dad gave you the golden boy treatment and barely glanced at his own daughters.” He had always been a man of tradition, a sage product of another time. She had learned that the hard way. “Like we weren’t even there.”

Ash sighed, brushing a hand through his messy hair. His forehead glistened as he softly said, “I know he was hard on you in the past. But that’s normal. Everyone makes mistakes. But he is different now.”

“He’ll never change.”

“How do you know that?”

Hands curled into trembling fists. “Because I—”

Crash! Both siblings jumped, startled by flowerpots smashing to the ground. And, nearly muffled by the chaos—a bone-snapping thump.

Rhea’s heart leaped to her throat.

“Dad!” Eyes wide, Ash dashed past her, swerving through the makeshift jungle.

A moment later, he screamed.

Ice shot through her veins. With an effort, she forced her rooted legs forward. Twigs raking down her trembling arms, she burst into the clearing…

And froze.

Amidst the shattered shards of pottery, blood pooled around her father’s head.

* * * *

A numbness settled in her gut.

Stark-white hospital walls surrounded her, suffocating with the sterile scent of soap and alcohol. Beside her, Ash sat, scratching off the clear plastic underside of the waiting chair. A doctor, followed by two nurses, shuffled past them, his nose buried into a clipboard while the nurses chattered excitedly.

Scritch-scritch! His fingernails grated against her ears, grinding her hollowed skull to pieces. She wanted to slap him senselessly until he stopped. To do something.

But she felt nothing.

A hand rested on her white-knuckled fist and squeezed lightly. She swallowed, noticing for the first time that her hands were trembling.

Her brother leaned forward, dark hair tickling her cheek as he said, “I really am glad you’re here, Rho.”

She chewed her lip.

A long-drawn sigh. “You were the only one.”

“What?” Rhea perked her head.

He sagged in his seat, his eyes half-closed. He looked like he had aged four years. “We tried calling them twice, but they were preoccupied. One was studying abroad, while the other was traveling on her honeymoon. You were the only one we could call on short notice.”

Maybe they were lucky. Or were they?

Honestly, she didn’t know anymore.

She stared at the white tiled floor. Dirt smudged her sneakers. “Funny. Mom never mentioned that.”

“There’s no need. We didn’t want you to know.”

Because I would have left. She swallowed, finishing the unspoken thought. And never looked back. And, if her father wasn’t lying in a hospital bed, his forehead caked in dried blood, she would have walked out regardless.

Yet here she was, wrestling again with her inner child demons.

“Rhodie,” her brother said, gently pulling her from her stupor. His gaze bored into her. “It wasn’t Mom.”

She froze, mind reeling as he continued, “Dad was the one who wanted you here. Mom and I knew it would be difficult, but he insisted,” he paused, making a choked noise that sounded like a broken wind chime. “Demanded it. H-He wanted to make it right with you. On his terms.”

So, back in the greenhouse…

The hospital door swung open. A wavy-haired female doctor wearing bright pink glasses stepped out, followed by their mother, her eyes rimmed red.

The doctor flashed the siblings a small smile. “He’s stable, but our scans revealed massive brain bleeding from a hemorrhagic stroke. We tried what we could…” The smile faded. “He’s under heavy painkillers. If there’s anything you want to say, now’s the time.”

Rhea rose to her feet and glanced between her family. Arms wrapped around their trembling mother, Ash gave her a small nod.

Releasing a deep breath, she entered. Her gaze drifted around the room, taking in the plain blue walls, the green vase filled with red paper flowers, and the metallic buzzing from the life-support and oxygen machines.

And then she saw him.

Wrinkled and pale as ever, her father stared blankly at the ceiling, a thick bandage wrapped around his skull. She settled in the seat beside him and watched as he slowly blinked.

What do I even say to him? Hands clenched into fists, she parted her lips and said, “Hey, Dad.”

His chest heaved, a weak flutter of movement beneath paper-thin sheets.

“I know we didn’t talk much,” she stuttered, hating how lifeless her voice sounded. Like a robot needing a tune-up. “But I wanted to say that I—” Something wet slid down her cheek, and she hastily wiped it away.

“Do you know… why I named you?”

Startled, she looked. Her father’s head was partially turned to her, gasping for breath. A light sparked in his dim blue eyes.

“Rhododendron… it’s a beautiful flower,” he coughed, blood speckling the hospital blanket. Rhea cringed and sluggishly started to her feet, her gaze helplessly darting around the room.

She had to call the doctor. Someone.

A wisp-like finger brushed against her chin. “Beautiful… just like you.”

In the empty room, a phone buzzed.