By Lisa de Bruyn
He was sitting on a bench.
The wind gently whistled past, swaying the leaves back and forth. The garden lay still, saturated with tall trees and flowers. His presence invited me closer. I hesitantly placed one foot in front of the other and was completely drawn in. The serene environment calmed the waves of panic inside of me. I slowly sat down next to him. He was clothed in white garments.
“It’s been a long day hasn’t it,” he said.
I signed, my shoulders dropped as I remembered the long road I’ve walked and the longer journey which was still to come.
“It seems as if a part of me has died,” I replied, my head was shaking, my hands began to tremble slightly.
The man got up from the bench and began to walk towards the patch of tulips ahead of him. He leaned over to smell them. His peaceful demeanour lifted all of his movements, as if he glided through the air.
“Kalley!”
My eyes opened and I sat up with a jolt. My father shouted from downstairs again:
“Kalley! Come here this instant!”
My legs were heavy as I tried to lift them off my bed. My head could barely withstand the dull throbbing from within. I made my way to the top of the stairwell and replied,
“Yes father?”
“Get yourself down here right now!”
My feet fumbled down the stairs, anxiety welled up within me. As I reached the last step I suddenly felt a sharp stinging sensation on my check.
I was on the floor. The feet of my father were at eye level.
“Why is dinner not made?! How many times do I have to yell at you for you to understand your duties in this household?”
His feet swayed slightly, left to right, his balance was slipping from his control. My arm was abruptly yanked upwards. I was pulled to my feet and my father grabbed hold of my ears.
“Can you hear me know?” He gritted through his teeth. His breath seeped alcohol and beads of sweat slowly dripped from his temples.
I was suddenly transported back to the garden.
The tulips smelled wonderful. As the scent entered my nose, my headache lifted and hope rose up from inside my chest. The man and I walked alongside each other for a few minutes. We walked towards an orchid. It was planted in the middle of the garden, all alone, singled out from amongst the crowd.
“Don’t forget the Orchid Kalley,” the man said gently. He kneeled down and examined it.
“What do you mean?” I replied. Intrigued by this pleasant mystery, I knelt down beside him.
He gently pulled the orchid out from the ground. His hands dusted the dirt off the roots. He shifted himself over to face me, his eyes found me.
“Kalley?!”, My father’s gruff voice echoed in the hallway. I pulled my arm out of his grasp.
Remember the orchid I thought. I dodged past my father and ran across the hallway. Beer cans lay idle on the floor, picture frames hung crookedly on the walls.
We were once a happy family. Right now, not. I passed the picture of my mother’s smiling face, I grabbed my keys and ran out the door.
My legs carried me a long way before I collapsed in the park. My entirety had crumbled under the weight of life. Of the lack of love. Of the overwhelming loneliness. But as I began to drift away, a man’s silhouette clouded my vision. He kneeled down beside me, his gentle hands laid my head on his knee.
“Kalley,”
He placed an orchid in my hands as I lay motionless in his arms.
The man from the garden was real.
He saved me.
