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Images from Pixabay, adjusted by me
“...and it’s deadly poisonous and so very common.”
“What?” Claudia shook herself, surfacing from her reverie.
“Foxglove is. It’s a common garden plant. Readily available. Anyone can just go into a shop and buy it.” Amber turned around in her chair to look at her friend.
“Claud, what’s going on? You haven’t been listening to me, have you?”
“Sorry, I’ve got a few things on my mind today, but I am listening. Go on.”
“So, is Jason giving you uphill again?”
“He’s away on conference. Thank goodness. It gives me breathing space. You know?”
“You don’t look too good, love. A bit green around the gills as I’d describe it. He’s a bastard, you know. I really don’t understand why you stay with him. Not after all he’s put you through?”
Oh, was it that easy. Claudia wanted to scream out her frustration. A plate clattered into destruction somewhere close by. A waitress had dropped something and a general tiny vortex of commotion ensued. She was aware of it, but it was distant.
“I’ve got to run.” Claudia raised herself from the chair. She felt as if she really needed to get away. The coffee shop was suddenly stiflingly small and ridiculously loud.
She left Amber with the bill, open mouthed staring after her like she’d lost her mind.
But, of course, she had; sanity was a drift of logic on a very remote beach, she was floating in a nether land of impossible choices.
So, Foxglove, what a solution. She felt the wonder of it settle on her. An absolute end. A perfect demise.
She drove with purpose, keen and focused.
The woman at the garden supplies nursery was incredibly knowledgeable and, ever so helpful.
“Yes, Foxglove is beautiful and, yes, we do have a selection of mature plants.”
Helpful, you know?
Claudia drove home at dusk, her headlights swirling up a vague eerie mist ahead of the car. A portent she thought, a sign of things to come. Her reality washed over her in tumultuous waves; Jason so remote, so cavalier. A contusion of lies. Obvious and obtuse, ever reaching for her absolution in his clandestine exploits. He was mad, he wanted her blessing.
A salve of resolve.
When she got home the house was cold and dark. She drifted through it seeing pockets of easy memories here and there. It hadn’t all been bad. No, there’d been good times too.
She settled at her computer and punched up to see. To view.
Darling, I’ll be home tomorrow. Sorry about the delay, but, work, you know. You know. Love you. Sorry.
She wanted to throw up. Not a reaction, a real pressing need.
She scrolled her email, dreading the news.
There, she had it…
Mrs Grant, we are so devastated to inform you that it’s stage four Pancreatic Cancer. We need you to come in on Tuesday and arrange the progression of your treatment, which might include invasive Chemotherapeutic solutions…
She hit “shut down” and watched the screen dissolve.
She hadn’t even switched on the lights.
She placed her prize on the desktop next to the damn computer. It was purple, lilac and lusciously green, dark green and it looked like heaven in a pot.
She wondered what it would taste like...
