Flowers of gratitude or hate

Vicky Pino By Vicky Pino, 20th Mar 2018 | Follow this author | RSS Feed | Short URL http://nut.bz/3r54jtrb/
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Short Stories

Lucía was fed up with that errand that her mother asked her to do way too often until on one day, she decided, not without remorse, not to do it. Years later, she wondered why her mother had asked her to do such an errant.

Flowers of gratitude or hate

Her name was Lucía, but in the family and within her neighbourhood, she was known with other shortened ones. She hated those ridiculous short names, but it was going to be long for her to decide to change it.

Luci, have you done your homework?
Luci, I need you to do some errands.
Lucita...

She wondered why one was christened with a name, if others were going to call you whatever they fancied.

The errands that her mother asked her to do were always going for the milk or bread and there was also a neighbour who would take a chance to ask her to bring something that she had forgotten to buy.

Lucía was one to do diligently what her mother asked her to do without a moan. Everything, except to bring that bouquet of flowers for her teacher far too often. She always wondered why she did so. Her older brother used to tell their mother not to send her sister with a bouquet of flowers for her teacher that often.

“ They'll soon put a nickname on her!” He had warned her.

Her school mates have already stuck a nickname on her whenever they saw her approaching to the school building.

“Here comes the flower girl!” some of them would exclaim, giggling.

Lucía or Luci was fed up with such an errand. She felt ridiculous, having to carry that bouquet of flowers for a teacher that according to her view didn't deserve such a treat.

Lucía arrived at school punctually. They first gathered in the entrance hall and they'd stay there till the teachers had ran out all of their news and gossip. Then, they'd ask them to line up in twos to go up in the other hall where the banners were to be risen as they sang the national anthem.

After this morning ritual, all of them would go into their corresponding classrooms. This teacher, to show a description of her, was a roly poly one and had permed hair. Her do looked like an endive, indeed. She sat at her desk after having written on the blackboard the first aritmethic exercises of the day. Afterwards, and after have told them to keep silent, she sat at her desk to read the newspaper and to munch on her bread and chocolate.

No wonder she's so fat, Lucía used to think, looking at her by the corner of her eye.

As all of them entered in the classroom, Lucía followed her class mates and approached to her teacher's desk who was already sitting, checking on her make up.

“Here Miss. This is from my mother. She asked me to bring them for you_” she felt ashamed doing this as her mates were still giggling and making faces. The teacher looked at her, rolling her eyes and without saying a word, she'd take the bouquet, would go out to fetch a flower vase filled with water, would plunge the flowers in it and would place them on top of a cabinet where they kept inkwells and other classroom paraphernalia and the bouquet would stay there till the flowers whithered and fell out of their stalks.

Nobody ever looked at them, exclaiming how beatiful they were or what a touch of colour gave to the classroom. They remained there until the next bouquet that her mother asked her to bring to the teacher -a teacher, who had never given a grateful word for her mother's treat.

Life went on in the school and in the neighburhood where Lucía lived and every time that she spotted a new bouquet of flowers on the dining room table awaiting for her to take them to school, she fretted.

“Lucita, do not forget to take those flowers for your teacher!”

Damned! Not again! Lucía thought as she took the bouquet and her school bag for school.

"No, mum! I won't!" She gave out, slamming the front door.

The flowers were beautiful. Nobody could deny this, but Lucía felt ridiculous walking to school, holding her bag with one hand and the bouquet with the other. “Here comes the flower girl!” was she going to hear from her mates on arriving at the school gate.

Damned!

On one of those days, she had an idea. She felt sorry for her mother and the money she'd spent on that bouquet of flowers, but she couldn't bear the shame of arriving at
school with them for umpteenth time to hear the giggling and to see that the teacher had never thanked for them. Without hesitation, she dumped them in a bin and continued her way to school. There weren't to be any more flowers for that teacher who had never praised them nor having said thank you and, on top of that, she was the one to be discriminated in the classroom, because that teacher had organized a small group of her pupils of whom she thought they were the most baclward lot in her classroom and she hardly ever seemed to notice their presence.

Time wernt on and Lucía ended her primary education to start her adult life, although, she was on her early teens.

One job followed to another and the latest one she had seemed to be worse than the previous one, because she didn't have many qualifications to aim for a better and interesting one.

“You ought to train on something if you want to get a better job”, one of her aunts had recommended.

It was true. She had to study more or to have a skill on something, because during her primary school years, she hadn't learned much, but what?

She went on earning her living with those jobs that didn't satisfy her much, but she had registered in an art school in the evenings, which was the time that those horrendous jobs left her.
On a given day, when she was getting ready to start working on something, she first paused for some minutes to think of what she was going to fill in in the white canvas. She then started to draw a bouquet of flowers. She got engrossed drawing stalks, leaves and a variety of petals. When she finished drawing, she started to paint them. The bouquet laid on the ground and it looked like one of those that her mother had bought for her teacher. She stopped painting and looked at the painting, reflecting.
"Poor mum! How much she had spent on flowers for that teacher that had never spared a grateful word for them! I wonder why she did so".
Lucía never understood this and hated to bring them to school often. Way too often and having to cope with her mates's giggling and faces when she gave them to the teacher, but it happens that there're people in need to attract others around themselves when they have to cope with life difficulties on her own. One needs to attract everyone on one's side no matter the cost or whether they deserve such or not. As the years rolled on, Lucía had an opportunity to face obstacles and difficulties on her own and she had done the same as her mother did.

(C) vicky Pino. March 21, 2018.





Tags

Bin, Bouquet Of Flowers, Brother, Mates, Nickname, Teacher

Meet the author

author avatar Vicky Pino
Freelance feature article writer on food, travel off the beaten track and news stories.

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