Autobiography of a Flower Petal
(TW: Transphobia, death)
You’d think considering my power, my personality, that I was surrounded by greenery and love and care. You would be right about the greenery part. My dad was a botanist (with a dabble of chemistry). He studied plants and how they worked while my mother was a florist. They met in my grandparent’s flower shop, my mom obviously the one working behind the counter.
They both found each other pretty cute, my dad flirting through flowers and they went on dates and one thing led after another. Then boom! Here I come in!
My parents were kind enough to me for most of my life. My dad taught me how specific flowers functioned and how they’re related and such. My mom taught me what different flowers meant and their messages. I grew quite fond of lavender.
One day, my family was invited to a quinceañera! I was around 5 or 6 at the time and dressed in my best attire, with the struggle of keeping my shoes on, we went. This was for one of my dad’s many friends, one that I haven’t met, daughter. I didn’t recognize many of the people there. But I did recognize one person.
My Tia was there! She was my favorite person ever, still is. I ran as fast as my little legs could take me. She scooped me up in her arms and spun me around. Seeing her was rare because she lived all the way in Pennsylvania while we lived all the way down in South Carolina. It was nice seeing her and I stuck with her. My parents were glad for the break from me.
See, I wasn’t always so talkative and willing to go up to others first. I was a shy kid. My Tia would encourage me to go play with the other kids, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay with her. I followed her around, watched her hug people, shake hands with people, and just interact so easily with others. I wanted to be just like her. She went up to this one couple and she seemed so thrilled to see the man. He had long locks, tied up in a neat bun and wore a red flannel tucked into a pair of slacks. He had these gold hexagon glasses that stood out from his dark skin. He had a really nice smile. The man caught me looking and greeted himself, bending down to my level. I hid behind my aunt, but I tried to talk as loud as I could muster. He walked off while my Tia and the woman he came with talked it up.
Not too long after, he came back, but with a kid around my age. She had the same complexion as him, her hair twisted with those plastic beads at the end. Her eyes were dark and full of wonder. She wore a pink dress. The man, her father, introduced me to her. Irie Kehinde. I liked her instantly. We ran off and played together, taking way too many desserts and giggling under the tables. I cried when we had to part. She did, too.
As it turned out, they lived not too far away! Twice a month, my parents and her parents would come together and let us play and it was always the best part of the month. We got to see each other grow and soon enough, I started to develop a little crush on Irie. I never told her this, not when we were younger, at least. I was ten.
I had grown taller than Irie, and she got frustrated with the fact that I surpassed her. We were both entering puberty and I realized I was not liking these new changes. My shoulders were too broad. I was starting to grow a mustache. The growing pains were enough to drive me insane. Worst physical pain in my life.
One day, when I was twelve, Irie and I were playing together outside, my lanky limbs taking me farther than Irie could ever dream of. It was a pretty rocky area, so we were prone to tripping and falling and stumbling. We were at an age where our brains weren’t quite connected to our bodies. We didn’t care, though. As we were running, I noticed a rock was coming up ahead of me that could trip me and I dodged with ease. I craned my neck to look back and see if Irie sees the rock. She did not. Because she’s an idiot who can’t see.
And then she trips.
I could hear the thud of her head against the ground. The ringing in my ears that would become so apparent in the rest of my life. The bright red blood seeping from her lip and forehead, a stark contrast from the greenery of the trees and the pale orange brown of the hillside.
My heart sank into the soles of my feet. I ran back and crouched down, feeling around her head to make sure everything was okay. I felt like crying at the time. I felt like crying a river. I thought she was going to die right then and there. Thankfully, there was a neighborhood not too far from where we were playing. I hauled her onto my shoulders and dragged my way there.
I’m still scared of ambulances.