6. Aloe Vera – Meaning Bitterness dejection grief sorrow
6
ALOE VERA
(IMMORTALITY PLANT, CROCODILE’S TONGUE, SAVIA)
MEANING: BITTERNESS; DEJECTION; GRIEF; SORROW
OCEAN
________
I liked the days after parties.
It was always quiet in the house. My aunt slept late and babied herself with her inevitable hangover, my uncle dove into work and solidifying whatever connections he’d made the night before, and I was left entirely alone.
Which was a good thing, because there were still a bunch of things to do before Ellie’s wedding.
Isolde’s sister was a sweetheart, and I was thrilled to do the flowers for her wedding. Everything for the ceremony and reception was sorted, and my girls were getting ready to make the pieces.
At the moment, I was finishing up the final designs for the boutonnieres. It should have been done a long time ago, but I hadn’t been able to decide what message I wanted to send to Isolde’s ex. Finally, I’d decided on a petunia, with some hemlock and basil, representing anger, disdain, hatred, and death.
It made me smile.
The flowers at the party last night, though they’d been exactly what my aunt and uncle had asked for in terms of colors, were similar. They never asked about the meanings, and I never volunteered them. One more small way I rebelled whenever I could.
My phone rang, Sally’s name on the screen. “Hey,” I answered.
“Hi, boss.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just picked up all the roses. Most of them are still closed, so they’ll be gorgeous on Saturday. There weren’t as many lavender ones as we ordered, but they replaced them with white. If we get them into some ink water they should be an okay replacement.”
Not ideal, but we’d made worse things work. And it wasn’t like I was there to insist the vendor give us what we asked for. The roses would soak up the dye from the water, and Sally would monitor to make sure they didn’t turn too dark. “That’s fine. I’m sending you an email with the last boutonniere. Nothing crazy. But if you guys need anything, let me know.”
I heard her car door shut over the phone. “I think we’ll be okay, but I wanted to make sure you’ll be there on Saturday? We’ve got all the plans, but you know you’re the one with the details in the brain. And you still have that thing I can never manage to do.”
My eyes rolled on instinct. Sally was my right-hand woman. Mainly because the work I could legally do thanks to my aunt and uncle was severely limited. I needed help to run my business, and honestly, I was lucky they even let me have one at all.
Sally insisted I had a way with the flowers in person that she didn’t, and that whenever I touched something, it looked better. It wasn’t true. She was just trying to keep me involved, but it was very sweet.
“You know I’ll be there. And you’re more than capable of making things look perfect.”
“Still,” she said. “We need our fearless leader.”
“Your fearless leader says to get those roses back to the workshop before they wilt in the back of your blazing hot minivan.”
A loud cackle came through the phone. “All right. I’ll check in after I make sure we have everything.”
“Thanks, Sally.”
I’m not sure how it got to be afternoon already, but it was. Hell, it was almost evening, and I didn’t even think I’d eaten today. My stomach growled at the thought, and I rolled my eyes. “So demanding,” I muttered.
But this worked out well. It was early enough that I could slip into the kitchen and eat something without anyone noticing, and avoid whatever dinner Laura and Frank had planned. If anything.
The days after a party they sometimes let me take a tray in my room.
Here was hoping.
The kitchen was blissfully empty, and it felt like a grilled cheese and tomato soup kind of day. I smiled when I saw there were two pieces of bread left, because that was perfect, and I never got so lucky.
Before I forgot, I added bread to the housekeeper’s list on the side of the fridge so she knew we were out. My headphones were still upstairs, so I hummed to myself as I heated up the tomato soup and grilled the sandwich to perfection. It smelled amazing.
“Michelle, I need a sandwich or something. I know we’re eating soon, but I was in the office all day and I’m starving.” My uncle strode into the kitchen expecting to see the cook, who wasn’t here. His face morphed into disdain. “What are you doing in here? And where’s Michelle?”
“I forgot to eat too. And I don’t know.”
He inhaled deeply, like he was keeping himself from reacting. “Right. Because you could ever forget to eat. Guess I’ll make myself a sandwich then. Though I don’t know why we’re paying for a cook when she’s not around to do her job.”
I was wincing before he even went to where the bread was stored, because I knew there wouldn’t be any. I turned off the stove and plated the sandwich quickly, putting the dishes where Michelle preferred I leave them.
Frank turned to me slowly. “Did you take the last of the bread?”
“I wrote it down for Isabel to get more.”
“We’ve had this discussion, Ocean. You don’t take something if there’s nothing left of it for anyone else. It’s selfish, rude, and you don’t need it anyway.”
“Sorry.”
“Give me that. You shouldn’t be eating the carbs. Don’t want to end up diabetic like that friend of yours.” He picked up the plate and was almost out of the kitchen when he turned. “You’re going to meet me in my office at six sharp. I need to talk to you about something.”
“Okay.”
I scowled at his back as he left, once again wishing I had more of a spine with my aunt and uncle. I didn’t have the energy or mental bandwidth to explain to him, yet again, how inaccurate that assumption was. Or that he was an asshole for mocking someone’s disability. Or that he was an asshole in general.
There was never a problem when he and Laura weren’t around, and even though those Alphas had ended up rescuing me last night, I’d still stood up for myself. It was just them. When they were around, the fear clogged up my throat and I couldn’t seem to think like the smart person I was. Instead, I turned into a ghost. Or a wet noodle. Someone who couldn’t stand on her own two feet.
No. That wasn’t true. Someone who was afraid of the power they held over her and didn’t want to make it worse.
Tears blurred my eyes, and I blinked them away.
I needed to get upstairs before he came back because he forgot something and found me crying. It never ended well. He’d think I was crying over the sandwich, and the last time I’d cried over food in front of him, I’d barely been able to eat for a week because he told the staff exactly how much food to give me.
My thoughts went down a familiar spiral, and I knew from experience it was easier to just let it happen than to fight it. Why had mom and dad done this? Why had they given Frank and Laura power over everything until I was thirty-five?
I would have said it was a joke, but I’d seen the documents. Plus mom and dad’s signatures. It was real. And those documents said that Frank and Laura held custodial power over my finances until that age. It was why I couldn’t leave and live on my own—they wouldn’t let me have enough money in my accounts to get my own place, even if I didn’t want to live in the home that was rightfully mine.
Technically Frank and Laura still thought my flower business was a hobby. As long as I didn’t show them too much money, they never questioned it. Because they didn’t consider that I could have that kind of ambition.
It was why I had to pay Sally a salary that was far above what a normal manager might have, because she had an account on the side that was for me. With a debit card attached to it. I didn’t deserve her.
I’d even offered to make her co-owner of Entendre , but she’d declined.
Isolde and Trinity knew, of course, but they didn’t know . Not the day-to-day digs and the level of control they held over my life. And I didn’t want them to know. Not really. Because they were a bright spot, and just like those Alphas, I didn’t want them to feel any kind of pity for me.
And there was nothing they could do. Why would I want my friends to feel as helpless as I did?
I curled up in my favorite chair and slowly ate my soup. It was good. It wasn’t enough, but it was good. I already knew I wasn’t going back to the kitchen tonight. Not if there was a chance Frank would see me. I just didn’t want to deal with it.
The words hurt more than I wanted them to, even if I’d heard them a hundred times before.
I didn’t hate my body. I might not love it, but I didn’t hate it. There were good days and bad days, like everyone had. What I really wished was that I could love my body. But the truth was, no matter how much I wanted to love it, I didn’t, because Frank, Laura, and even Jason, were right.
I wasn’t small. I was fat, and no one wanted a fat Omega. I’d resigned myself to it a long time ago. I was healthy and I took care of myself. My body was simply bigger, and though I’d accepted it, it didn’t fill the aching hole in my chest wishing someone would look at me the way Isolde’s Alphas looked at her. Hoping that someone would love me even though I looked like this.
Praying that maybe someone could make me believe that I should love myself as I was, instead of trying to make myself smaller to fit into a world that didn’t want me. Wanting someone who would be able to scoop me up and allow me to feel cherished and precious even if I wasn’t what everyone thought I should be.
A single tear slipped out, and I slapped it away.
No.
There’d already been too many tears over this, and I didn’t want Frank to think he’d gotten to me. I wasn’t a pretty crier, and if I started now, even in the couple of hours before I needed to meet him in his office, he would know.
Nope. No more crying.
I finished my soup and grabbed one of my sketchbooks to work on a party we’d been booked for next month. The client had some pretty ideas, and I had some thoughts. I wanted to give her some sketches and a list of possible flowers on Monday.
Due to my… limitations, I didn’t manage or even design every event. But there were some who came to me because they knew through word of mouth about my hybrid work, or my knack for creating meaning with the language of flowers, and asked for me specifically. I loved it when that happened.
Maybe in a few years I’d be able to expand and do more things myself. Sometimes I felt like I was rotting inside this house. I wasn’t a prisoner, technically. They allowed me to leave. But Frank and Laura asked so many questions every time I did that I had to decide which things were worth it. Like going ballgown bowling with Trinity and Isolde.
Glancing at my phone, it was almost six. The last thing I needed was to be late and get a lecture on top of what Frank wanted to talk to me about. Whatever it was, I doubted it was good.
As soon as I approached the door to his office, I heard Laura’s voice. Fuck. Them together?
Good thing I didn’t cry. Because I might have to do it later. Trying to master the fear and dread in my stomach, I closed my eyes and knocked.