Candi’s Bio:

Candi Sary has written seven novels. Five made it to the finals in competitions. Black Crow White Lie was a top six finalist in the 2009 William Faulkner William Wisdom Creative Writing Competition; Finding Grace made the short list for finals in the 2007 William Faulkner Creative Writing Competition; Love Me Madly won second place in the 2007 Dahlonega Literary Festival Novel Contest; The Sound That Red Makes and Thrown Away were finalists in the 2002 Santa Fe Writers Project Literary Award. Lavender Roses is her first short story, inspired by a writing exercise on Janet Fitch’s blog.

Candi graduated from UC Irvine with a BA in psychology. She lives in coastal Orange County, California with her husband, their two teenagers and three dogs. She finds spiritual connection in surfing, running, listening to music, and filming the life around her.

Visit her website at http://candisary.weebly.com.

Lavender Roses

By Candi Sary

My three older sisters hated Sunnyview. It smelled, and the old people looked sad. I was okay with the place since I always plugged my nose and walked quickly, keeping my eyes straight ahead until I got to Grandma’s room. 

“Hi, Grandma,” I said rushing to her bed. “What’s my name?” I began with the game we always played. My sisters walked in stiffly behind me, puckering their noses at the smell.

“Amanda,” my grandma said, as she usually did. That answer always made my mom squeeze her eyes, like something hurt her.

“No, I’m Lilly,” I enthused, entertained yet again by the magical shroud my resemblance to Amanda created. It was like a Halloween costume I didn’t even have to put on. With Grandma, I could suddenly be mistaken for a fourteen-year-old instead of the five-year-old I was.

“It’s Lilly, Mom,” my mom said extra loud, as if the volume might help her remember. “Amanda’s right here,” she gestured toward my older sister. “She’s grown up, Mom. Remember?” With the vacant look on Grandma’s face, I could tell she didn’t. “Well, happy birthday,” my mom moved on to the reason for our visit. “We brought presents and cupcakes.”

While my mom set everything down, I walked around the room pretending I was Amanda. I flipped my hair the way she always did and tried to wear her characteristic snotty expression. Amanda caught my mimicking and grabbed me by the arm. 

“Stop it,” she hissed. “I don’t do that.”

“What?” I jerked my arm away. 

“You don’t look like me,” Amanda’s scowling face was up to mine. “You only look like I did when I was younger. And since that’s the last time Grandma’s mind remembers things, she confuses us.”

I didn’t understand how someone’s brain could stop at one place in time, but it made my grandma seem special, like a time traveler. My mom and sisters were old enough to understand the tragedy of a stunted memory, but I was still young enough to find some magic in it.

I sat on the bed while my grandma opened her presents—a new robe, slippers, and rose-scented lotion.

“Smells like my garden,” she said with the slow, contemplative voice of someone trying to recall something. “Amanda loved my lavender roses,” she said looking to me, and then to my others sisters, seemingly unclear which one was Amanda.

“I did, Grandma,” Amanda came forward, my grandma eyeing her curiously. “The lavender ones were my favorite.”

“I loved the lavender ones too,” I said, springing up on my toes. 

Amanda put her hand on my shoulder and pushed me back down to my heels. “You were too little to remember,” she rolled her eyes.

“I remember,” I folded my arms in a huff. “The lavender ones were my favorite.”

“Girls,” my mom gave us that look and we knew we needed to stop.

My mom went on to tell stories as Grandma smiled and gave a few laughs. Her joy made my sisters loosen up a little. They even came to sit on the edge of the bed. Grandma laughed more as we sang “Happy Birthday” to her, and her eyes lit up when she held her cupcake. We ate together and told her about things going on at home. She might not have understood everything since she hadn’t been to our home in years, but the stories still made her happy. So we kept telling them.

When it was time to go, we each gave Grandma a kiss. After my mom kissed her, she asked hopefully, “Did you have a good time on your birthday, Mom?”

My grandma looked at each of us, more focused than usual, as if really trying to take us in. When she looked to me, I gave her the biggest smile I could muster, squeezing my eyes and showing all my teeth. It made her laugh out.  

“I had a ball,” she said keeping her eyes on me.

I wondered if my smile made her realize I was Lilly. It was hard to tell if she could ever remember me. But it seemed that she still knew how to love me even when her mind forgot. It was kind of like the lavender roses—I didn’t actually remember them. But when we talked about them with Grandma, I really did love them.

***