Corollary

Aftermath + 1

Finally through the doors and I got smacked in the face with a heavy blossomy scent that screamed of flowers everywhere even though the scene before me was a mass of green. The trek here had been accompanied by the tiny pricks of chilling rain, wind and falling leaves that signalled the move from autumn to early winter. Maybe blooming actual flowers would have screamed – hey, there’s something weird about this garden. 

Still, it was not funny how natural it felt, stepping out. That even the bloody garden smelt the same. To be honest, the whole ‘step into the garden maze thing’ used to give me dentist vibes. It was the thing you did, not because you liked the idea but because apparently, it was good for you. It’s what the boy said when he brought me to this place that first time.

I shut my eyes and pushed back on the wriggling unwelcome sentiment that it felt good to be back. I waited for when it felt right and then stepped down onto one of the narrow flagstone paths that appeared out of the ground, once you stepped into the garden.  It had been bloody terrifying the first time I tried this.

“Cassandra, you did it.”

I scarpered back into the patio. For a second, I was tempted to do that thing where you dropped to the ground and kissed the floor tiles cos that was a bloody terrifying experience. I kept expecting to run into some version of a masked person with a chainsaw or an axe, stepping out from behind a bloody tree. You had to walk the path with your eyes closed which meant that my imagination had been running full tilt bonkers. Why would anyone do this? Why did I? I looked at the boy grinning madly at me. His hair somehow looked even more golden than usual. I mean, I’d already followed him all the way out here, to the wilds of South London on a bike no less.

“Did you get a gift,” he asked excitedly.

Oh yeah, I’d forgotten that bit. I’d worked up every last bit of courage to do the whole garden quest thing. I’d forgotten that your first time came with a gift. I checked my pockets, nothing. Of course, I didn’t get… then my hand brushed up against my waist beads. Was there something hanging from it? How the bloody actual hell did that get there? My knees gave up and kissed the tiles for me.

That first time… my younger self should have figured out that my being afraid was for a good reason. What was it Nan used to say, ‘good-looking boys are placed on this earth to lure you into foolishness’. She hadn’t been wrong. Then again Nan had abandoned us. From where I was standing there wasn’t much difference between Nan and that good-looking boy.