On a day like this

‘Today’s the day!’ Clover couldn’t wait to get home, her heart was singing. The sun was nearly setting and the first day of spring is near its end. Clover fiddled with the key on her neck, this would be gone soon and so will the heavy feeling on her soul. She could smell how spring has already came.

This day couldn’t get any better. She caught a bright yellow color in the corner of her eyes and saw that wild chrysanthemums were growing at edge of the other side of the sidewalk. It warmed her heart how its trying to survive on the cold cement, she should come back for it later and replant it somewhere nice. Clover couldn’t hold back the smile on her face as she sprinted the last block towards her home. Their front yard was the definition of picture perfect, the grass was freshly mowed by her earlier this morning and the flowers beneath the windows were bright, alive and not wilting. She’s been watering them for this year’s spring, and they bloomed beautifully. She heard the thundering steps running towards her the moment she opened the door. Obviously her father hasn’t arrived yet, he must be held up at work. ‘Great!’

“Arf! Arf!” 

“Hey baby!” Closing the door behind her, Clover kneeled on the wooden floors as she’s welcomed by the limping Rottweiler. His rough barking soothed her fast beating heart. Petting Dante without even putting down her bag, Clover grinned. She couldn’t contain her excitement.

“Do you know what day is it today, Dante?” Dante didn’t stop his tail-wagging and seemed to smile more at her and just barked at the sound of his name. Of course a dog wouldn’t understand the importance of today, but Clover knew he would be as happy as her once the day ends. So she just laughed at Dante’s innocence. Its been a long time since she laughed in this lonely house.

“That’s right, Dante! Its that day today! Are you excited for me, baby?” The black disabled dog seemed as excited as she was for today, even with the missing leg his enthusiasm can be clearly seen.

“Haha ok, ok, baby. I need to prepare before Father arrives!” Rocking back on her feet, Clover nearly fell down on her attempt to stand. Dante seemed to laugh at her. She walked passed him and headed straight to her room. Opening the door, she looked around the emptiness that was her room. She loved this room. It was spacious and filled with memories, memories that haunted her every time the marigolds bloomed in the backyard. The marigolds in the backyard were always beautiful.

‘Father could return any minute now, I should cook dinner quick.’ Clover ignored her the mess that was her bed and went to her closet. The doors creaked loudly as she opened it. A couple of old clothes strewn here and there, and a small grey duffle bag was inside. Seeing the bag made her smile, this wasn’t a dream. A dream that she repeated over and over again every other night. Clover changed her uniform into the faded maroon shirt and old black jogging pants she found in a thrift shop a long time ago. Kneeling down, she took off the key around her neck and used it to open her beloved drawer. Keeper of her secrets, her memories. The chain of the key rattled as she twisted to unlock the old wood.

Pulling it open she found her lovely books and old photo albums inside, just as she left them. The black color sticking out from under the albums made her fingers tingle. ‘I can do it,’ Clover grabbed the cold thing and the weight on her hand felt great. ‘I practiced hard, I’m prepared.’ She had to thank her father for making her this strong. 

“Hmm, I’ll make the best dinner today.” Clover took out everything from the drawer and put it into her bag, except for the black thing. She needed it in the kitchen tonight.

After packing everything in the duffle bag for their trip later, Clover surveyed her room to see if she’ll bring anything else. The barren room stared back at her. ‘I think I’m good. I’ll just take some clothes, my valuable books, and memories with me.’ Everything else can stay here. She glanced at the window and saw how beautiful the sky was as it was painted by the sunset. 

After putting her bag back inside the closet and closing it, Clover went down the stairs to go to the kitchen. She made sure to grab the black thing before opening her door. Dante was waiting by the bottom and the creaking wood beneath her steps made him wag his tail. She made sure to pat his head as she passed by him. She grabbed the apron by the door and placed the black thing in its pocket for later use. ‘What should I make? I think there was still chicken in the fridge....’

Opening the fridge made her think of doing grocery shopping with how empty it was. Because of that, she spotted the chicken thighs easily and took it out. ‘Honey-baked chicken it is. Dante would love this.’ Clover moved quick with her cooking, and soon the smell of honey and chicken in the oven wafted everywhere. There was a spring in her step as she moved around the kitchen and into the dining room with a plate, spoon and fork in her hands. The yellow marigolds she placed in the old vase were still alive on top of the dining table. Looking at the flowers made her heart beat a bit faster. She quickly set up the table and like magic she heard the familiar sounds of an engine nearing their house. The roaring sound of the engine made her heart tremble every time she heard it when she was younger. It felt like a monster was coming home. Looking outside the window she saw her father park in their driveway. 

Clover went back to the kitchen to grab the tray of mashed potatoes and the honey-baked chicken. ‘Ah, I forgot the water.’ At the same time, the sound of the door slamming close boomed from the hallway. The heavy footsteps that followed signaled that her father was obviously home. “Clover!” The call of her name made her move to the kitchen, she could just get water later. It didn’t matter anyways. “Dinner!” Her father shouted from the living room, probably to drop off his bags and other stuff. Her hands tingled and Dante was nowhere to be found. ‘Must’ve hid somewhere again,’ He was always afraid of the sound of the car like she was when they were younger, but those days were long gone. She doesn’t have to be afraid anymore.

“Clover, why aren’t you answering me?” Her father made his entrance to the kitchen, with his dirty blond hair and bearded face. His blue eyes dark as always like his navy tie. His white dress shirt was crinkled and messily tucked in, his jacket was missing. ‘I wonder where his car keys are,’ Clover smiled. This was the man she got her looks from. She had the same dirty hair, and eyes. Her mother called this man handsome, and she wasn’t wrong.

“I’m sorry, father, I was just setting the table.” Her father’s eyes didn’t get any lighter and proceeded to take the seat opposite from her. Clover also took a sit, her side of the table empty of tableware. Her father started eating.

“Have you eaten?”

“Not yet.” 

Her father didn’t stop from eating and just hummed at her answer. Just like that it was quiet again. There wasn’t even a single car outside. Clover looked above the doorway behind her father, the clock said it was just four minutes from eight. Her father looked undisturbed as he ate, even as she sat across from him at the table for once. Obviously, unaware that spring has arrived.

“How was work?” Clover eyed how brutally her father slice the chicken thigh before eating it. Her father looked at her in question. She could understand why, she wasn’t usually the one to start a conversation. His face screamed haggard, and it made him look scarier than usual. However, it seemed that her father was in a good mood after arriving home to a nice dinner and entertained her question after a brief moment of silence.

“Tiring, per usual.” Clover kind of expected that kind of answer. Well, she also expected no answer at all. Her father was that kind of man. Loud outside but quiet at home. He must be tired with his outside facade. For a moment, only the ticking of the clock was the noise between them and the clinking of her father’s spoon and fork. He didn’t even noticed the bright yellow marigolds between them.

The blood was getting to her head. She needed to do it quick, she might make a mistake with her building adrenaline. Clover looked at the blond man, and her mouth opened at its own.

“Do you miss mom?”

The clinking sounds stopped but the ticking of the clock continued. Her father’s face didn’t darken but it wasn’t any better from before. She knew it was her father’s actual normal face, his “grumpy face”.

“Don’t talk about that woman.” The man continued eating and Clover felt the blood flowing through her veins thrum with unbridled energy. The words were out of her mouth without a thought. Her hands below the table went inside her apron’s pocket.

“Do you miss her?” The slam of his fists on the table was expected. ‘Ah, I know that face.’ Her father’s angry face, eyebrows nearly meeting and eyes glaring. His mouth was set in a frown and Clover could feel the tension of the clenching of his jaws.

“Clover,”

“Father, ” It was also obvious in his eyes how he’s questioning her sanity, and unusual behavior. She’s usually quiet and meek, she could see the question in his eyes. “where’s mom?”

Clover could remember it as clear as a sunny spring day, the moment this house became scary. The moment yellow marigolds first appeared in the backyard. The moment her father came home late and her mother went down stairs from their room. “Wait for me here. Ok, Clover?”

She never came back up. It wasn’t quiet that night, unlike every other night. The house was dead and the lights were off. Clover remember the sound of glass breaking and the loud voice of his father shouting, “How could you!” 

She waited for her mother all night long but she must’ve fell asleep at some point. She woke up to an exhausted man in the living room. “She left you here.”

Clover could remember the smell of dirt from her father. She could remember how the edge of his black pants was caked with dry soil. “You better behave!” Clover looked at the man in front of her, simmering in his anger.

“She left this house. Now, shut up or go to your room.” Clover could laugh at how her father was trying to calm himself.

“Left, left....” She stared at her father’s eyes and could see how they mirror one another’s. “She never left this house.” Clover relished how the man’s dark eyes widened and the sliver of fear that showed.

“She’s right there,” Clover glanced to her right, the direction of the backyard, “Look. Her flowers are beautiful today, aren’t they?” Clover saw how warily the man eyed the mentioned yellow marigolds between them. She couldn’t hide the smile on her face, today’s the day.

“You planted them there, above her.” Her father’s face went dark. Darker than usual, she’d be dead by now if she was any younger, “They grew up well, unlike me.” 

Years. For years, she’s been surviving in this empty house. Surviving against her monster of a father. The man who she got her horrible looks from. She used to feel scared every time she looked at a mirror. Her mother called her beautiful but she found herself terrifying. “Golden as marigolds.”

“What nonsense are you spouting, Clover?” Her father said through gritted teeth. He smiled, it was feral. Angry. She ignored him.

“I thought I was abandoned when you said she left,” Clover glanced at the unfinished food on her father’s plate. ‘Ah, what a waste.’ “I was so angry at her for leaving me stuck with you, father.” She wondered how could she be so calm. Her voice was as quiet and meek as it usually was. Meanwhile, her father’s fist clenched and his face was getting a tad bit redder.

“But then I thought maybe I was a bad child,” Clover was actually surprised how her father was letting her talk freely. He could’ve slammed her head down against the table any moment now. He did it before. Clover fiddled with the black metal in her hands, “Maybe I deserved to be left alone. Maybe I deserved the beatings you gave me as punishment.” 

Her father stood up quickly and she’s been anticipating it since the start. She never moved her hands so fast before. Clover enjoyed the shocked look her father had before she pulled the trigger. 

It was a quiet night. After the muffled sound of the gunshot, her father fell back to his chair with a quiet thump, his hands on his bleeding heart. He was the one gasping for his breath today. 

“Today is mom’s birthday, you know. I remembered,” Her Father coughed and blood splattered on the meal he was eating earlier, “You gave her a chrysanthemum bouquet before when her favorite flowers were marigolds because it blooms on her birthday.” Spring never felt this exhilarating before.

Her father glared at her, his eyes as dark as usual. Filled with disgust and hatred, as usual. Clover chuckled and Dante came running from God know’s where, barking with the thought of an intruder. Her father’s hands fell from his chest, and his eyes became glazed over. Clover stared at the man, he didn’t even last for a few more seconds. She had a lot to tell him, it was too bad. ‘Too bad,’

“Look, your other victim’s here.” Dante was unusually quiet, kept nudging his head against her knees. He must've felt that something’s wrong. It’s been a while since Dante was even in the same room as her father. “Be happy father, I’ll give you the same flowers.” The man she thought who would end her life as a child, just sat there. Unalive. It was over. The monster was gone, she doesn’t have to be scared anymore. ‘The house will really be empty now.’

Clover fell back to her own chair. She’s tired. She put the gun on safety and placed it on top of the table. She didn’t even have to worry about the neighbors calling the cops, they never cared before. “Help! Please, please! Help me! He’s going to-!”

“Arf!” Clover blinked at Dante, it was weird how she could decipher the worry on the dog’s scarred face. 

“I’m fine, baby. We’re free now.” ‘Free.’ She let her hands fall on top of the dog’s head and rub his worries away. Its over now. ‘Are you happy now, mom? I’m free,’ Clover thought to herself. Her mom loved her dearly, she knew that. Her father did too, once upon a time. Maybe. She didn’t know why he suddenly became insane. Was it genetic? Will she become insane too? Will she hurt those she loved too? The bright yellow marigolds caught her eye, it was really pretty. Her mom often compared her to it as a child. She told her that when they bloom it meant spring has come. “Every spring that passes remember this love we give, my dear.”

“Ah...” It felt like all her energy disappeared from shooting once. Her blood is quiet but her heart was beating as fast as ever. She felt like crying, but she’s too drained to even do that right now. She heard Dante whine and she guessed it must’ve been the smell of the blood. Dante hated the smell ever since she begged her father to stop using Dante in illegal dog fights, and she nearly died because of it. Her father was kind enough to stop beating her when she was nearing unconsciousness. “Sorry, baby. Let me just take bath then we’ll go.” Clover remembered the marigolds growing in the backyard and it confused her every time she stared at it. Her father loved mom. There’s a story there. It’s lost somewhere, and the only one who could tell her was a deadman now. She didn’t care. She’s lost her care while she was trying to survive. 

“How about you stay in the backyard for now?” ‘So you don’t get blood all over yourself.’ Clover glanced at the growing pool of blood one the floor that was nearing her and Dante. She stood up and went to the backdoor in the kitchen, leaving the gun on the table. She didn’t need it anymore tonight. The door opened to a small terrace and Dante peeked from behind her leg, even though he was such a big dog he kept glancing back at her father for permission. Like her father would scream at him any moment now. He’s well trained. ‘Like me.’

“It’s okay, you can run.” Dante’s tail wagged and he limped outside to the terrace. He tried running around to his heart’s content but he kept falling snout first because of his missing left-front leg. Her father never let Dante out even though he let him live. People would ask questions. 

Looking at the left corner of the backyard, the yellow marigolds were as bright as ever. 

“Hey mom,” This would be the last spring she spent in this house. She’s finally free, free, free. “Its already spring here.”