The ginger, freckled girl walks away from it all, coincidentally red-faced. She’s still in too deep and right now Charlotte simply needs to be alone, to take a breather and to think clearly. Her brown-skinned friend’s support was just not needed right now. What a pair they made in 1964, when it was looked down on to be anything else but white- and yet the two girls were friends from childhood, neither remembering how they met but still trusting they’ll be there for each other no matter what. But today Charlotte was confused and angry and hurt and doesn’t want to be around Jadorra, who may be an amazing friend, but had the cold blood of a lizard and a heart made of... stone, if it was even there. No- she needed someone whom she could share her sympathy with and not be told to man up when she broke down in tears. She also needed to wallow in self-pity for a bit. Charlotte need a break and so she went to visit her mother.
“Hello again dear, should I just get the usual for you then?” The florist is an elderly old woman who makes even the flowers in her hand seem wise. Mrs Fargher was more of a living clique than a human but she was a damn good florist. Award winning at that although she hates to admit it. Typical.
“Yes please ma’am”, Charlotte replies and turns to look outside. It was starting to get warmer outside, the sun finally showing itself after hiding for what seemed like a very long winter. Today was 12° C, which was almost perfect to go to the beach in Britain, and her freckles were becoming more visible on her face. She looks away from the glass reflection.
Mrs Fargher hands her five Calla lilies, and Charlotte pays, says her goodbyes and leaves the humble florist boutique to finally see her mum again.
An hour later a hooded figure is watching a ginger girl lay down and cry next a headstone. The girl had first sat down next to it as if meeting up with an old friend and chatting to it as though she were catching up life news. She had laid down five white flowers and started to sob softly. At this point the dark figure was getting bored and so lit a cigarette and made themselves comfortable. Teen drama is always so dragged out and exaggerated. It’s exhausting to deal with really.
Now ginger girl, Charlotte, was still crying and Jadorra finally felt her patience snap. “You realise no matter how much you cry, your mum’s not gonna rise from the dead like a fucking plant or something. She’s not gonna feed on your disgusting-ass tears and build up her strength to come back to you either. She’s dead. Has been for a long time and let’s hope it stays that way, I can’t be asked fighting off zombies right now.” During the time Jadorra was explaining to the idiot, the idiot had: startled, shrieked, gotten up, became pissed that her incredibly long moment was cut off, marched over and was now staring directly into the eyes of her ‘best friend’. Some friend.
“What’s wrong with you?!” She’s still shrieking.
“Easy with the voice, you know how annoying that is. And if I hadn’t said anything now you probably would have slept here and drowned in your self pity.” Jadorra replied, taking a drag and exhaling.
“Stop that, you know it’ll kill you,” Jorjia waves her hand around the smoke and tries to take the cigarette from her, rude interruption already forgiven and forgotten, probably because she knows her friend’s right. Charlotte huffs and plonks down beside Jadorra, who offers her some almond nuts to which Jorjia immediately accepts and eats the whole thing. Man, she loves almonds and she was really hungry.
“What’s got you worked up this time?” Damn. If Jadorra asks a question, she goes to lengths to have it answered.
“Nothing, why would you think?” Charlotte says pretending innocence, “i just wanted to see Mum again, is that so bad?”
“Darling, it’s only bad if you keep lying to yourself like that.” Sometimes Charlotte really hated Jadorra’s ability to see straight through bullshit. “It was something Adam said, wasn’t it?” If you listened closely you could here the venom in Jadorra’s tone, but Charlotte was distracted. Oh dear.
She sighs like a drama queen on one of those soaps and begins, “ Um.. don’t say anything to him but he thinks... He says... He’s really nice and I DO like him but he keeps insisting that I try harder to lose weight otherwise he’ll leave me.”