Finn's Petals

We are like flowers.
We are imperfect because sometimes, our petals don’t move in all the same direction, and sometimes our leaves are a little discolored, or maybe, our stem is broken. But we, as flowers, remain beautiful.
Because even though we sometimes fall apart and leave petals scattered all over the place, we soon reblossom and make things beautiful again.

~

“My dad left, Finn. He’s gone, left, took his shit, kissed Cass and said goodbye. I can’t handle this Finn, I can’t do us right now,” it comes out in a rushed whisper, like I don’t want to be saying the words that are rushing out of my mouth, but they’re coming anyway.

Finn’s face falls and his lower lip is tugged into his mouth and he’s nibbling on it, like he does when he doesn’t quite know what to say.
“No,” he says finally, it’s quiet but forceful, quite like Finn himself.

I’m kind of set back, because though I know Finn won’t take it well, I don’t expect him to fight back.

“I can’t. I’ve got to help Mom quit crying and I’ve got to find Clayton, ‘cause he took off after Dad, and Cass, I don’t even know what to do about Cass,” I mumble and try to keep the tears in my eyes from falling.

“Exactly, Danny. You need me, please don’t leave alone, you need me.”

He’s reaching out toward me, trying to find something to hang on to and not to let me go without him, but I’m turning away before he can grab my hand, and I’m chanting apologies almost unknowingly.
*
Before I open my eyes or hear him talk, I know he’s in my room. The window clicks softly and then I feel his weight shift on the bed.

“Danny, Danny, Danny,” Finn chants quietly, his words ghosting over my cheek and his breath flitting over my lips.

My tired eyes crack open to meet his hazy blue eyes, the dull color with brilliant streaks of green, already illuminated far more than they should be. After five minutes of slamming my face back into the pillow only to have Finn yank my head back up and have him whisper some more into my ear, I sit up, blinking and yawning and trying to keep from toppling back into the warm covers.

My voice is groggy and clogged, but I’m talking to him anyway, of course I am, “It was two o’clock before I got in with Clayton last night. He was out near Route Two, on the side of the road with bloody palms and knees and his face was all snotty and he wouldn’t stop crying, Finn. I couldn’t get him to stop. He followed Dad for four and a half miles, and he fell so many times, we didn’t have enough BandAids to stop his knees from bleeding through them. And he fell asleep crying, he wouldn’t let me leave his room until he was asleep. God, it was miserable. Dad ripped us apart. Clayton is only seven, why is he having to go through this, Finn?”

Finn’s already too soft eyes soften and his face falls and he reaches toward me, pulling my trembling body into his and he lets me cling to him.

“And Cass, Cass doesn’t understand at all. Mom told her that Daddy went on vacation. Cassie’s four, Finn! She’s four! She cried last night because Dad wasn’t there to sing her to sleep, like he’s done every night since she was born. She’ll cry every night until she realizes that he’s not coming back,” I whisper, the tears falling from my face.
“Mom’s been locked in her room since I left for Clayton last night. I’m pretty sure she’s drinking, but I don’t know for sure. I need her to come out, I can’t keep answering their questions, I can’t hold this family together on my own, Finny.”

He sings in my ear, and rocks me back and forth, and he just keeps telling me that it’ll be okay. And I don’t know for sure if it will be, but I want to believe him.

So I do.

~

Finn is like the most beautiful flower.
He is; he’s pure and beautiful and innocent.
Because Finn’s petals are never messed up, they’re always amazing.
Finn doesn’t need imperfections to be beautiful and breathtaking, he simply is.