The only good thing about today was that it was Saturday. Saturday was the one day in the whole week I have to myself. There are no lessons, no parties, no meetings I have to attend. It was just me. And Rose was often away on work, which meant I had some alone time.
The most important thing was that no one was coming over, which meant I can replace those tight dresses with loose clothes that don’t see daylight enough times.
I pulled my green jumper over my head and smiled as I pulled it down. Ah, the comfort of loose clothes.
I replaced the high heels with boots that I got from the back of the closet. Rather than wearing my fancy hair, I tied my long dark brown mess into a ponytail. I closed my eyes, feeling the sun on my face. The most joy I can get from this place was the backyard.
I hurried downstairs to the one place I frequently visited in the months here, my haven. I had taken over the plain backyard that looked too structured and was proud to say I created chaos in it. I had planted my favorite flowers, blue mystique-orchids, childhood flowers I remembered and anything else I could get my hands on.
As a teenager, when I saw them, I used to fall in love with those special and incredibly rare blue flowers. I had no idea what they were called till I was seventeen when a friend told me. Since then, my love for them grew.
I peeked out of the corridor downstairs. It was still early and the sun had just risen, which meant the incorrigible bastard who thought I was something you wrapped sandwiches in was probably still sleeping.
It wasn’t that I was scared he’d see me like this. It was that I didn’t want to see that ugly face of his and let it ruin my day.
Tiptoeing out quietly, I ran toward the end of the house and past one of the maids cleaning and to the back door.
"Slow down, dearie, you might trip over," said Margaret when she saw me coming and opened the door for me with a knowing smile.
I smiled cheekily, grabbing the watering can and tools from the small box outside.
"I will," I assured her as she opened her mouth, probably to warn me about cutting myself on the pliers and knife like I did nearly every week.
"Are you sure you should be doing this? Dar-"
"I don’t think he cares,” I replied, and I doubt his care factor would even bother him.
Margaret nodded, ushering me out. I left out the part about him saying I can do whatever I want as long as I was out of his way. That was fine with me. In fact, that was what I wanted.
These orchids were the only things that make my time worthwhile on those days. I never knew you can grow blue orchids till I met someone selling them, and boy was I hypocritical that he sold me some rubbish. But I did hope that he was telling the truth and they would come out blue and purple, not white like Rose had said. She was just as hypocritical but I didn’t want to take a chance.
Whistling to myself, I enjoyed the warm sun on my face as I walked over to my little orchid bed near the wall and fence and sat down. From here I can see the garden, and the mess, or masterpiece I created.
A small dirt path was between the various colored roses that led to a flat patch of grass where you can lay down and look at the stars at night. Some of the roses still had clothes tied to the bottom, special fabric that acted a dye to create the colour you wanted. I was still waiting for the ‘black’ roses to blossom, if they ever would. Some of the roses had turned out as a disaster, wilting before they even reached the colour I desired.
But I was expecting all of them to be successful. It was just experiments.
The other side was a wall of Jasmines, my childhood flowers, and the scent of them was intoxicating.
I gripped a weed, pulling it out of the mulch and throwing it aside for the garden maintainers to clean. I should also remind them to clean the dirt path, maybe replace it with some stones or rock. It looked tardy.
I wiped my hands on my jeans and looked at my babies.
"How was your week, my darlings?" I whispered as I flicked a bug off the orchid bud.
"Yea well, I didn't have an eventful one myself," I replied, plucking the bad leaves off. Talking to the plants was meant to help them. I wasn’t crazy. I felt sorry for them at times, probably having no one to talk to. The only difference between myself and them was that I was inside the house and they were outside, and I had legs, ate more and wore clothes.
There were three buds in total and I frowned. They had been like that for weeks, were they actually going to blossom? I got up, dusting myself as I picked up the watering can and filled it up.
I watered them, washing the mud off some of the leaves, thinking to myself.
"Maybe next Saturday I can go out with Rose," I said, looking at the plant.
I stroked the soft silky leaf, rubbing it softly. I can smell the amazing jasmines, and soon the roses would fully blossom and the garden would be overtaken with the mixed smells.