Uncle Wesley's Flower Shop

Uncle Wesley barely used bizarre chemicals to prolong the life of his plants. Meghan thanked him for that. Back home, Meghan’s parents lived for the sight of chemicals. They spent most hours surrounding themselves with substances and elements rather than their own children. On most days, Meghan and Kamile would spend their days playing across the street with their neighbors. Eventually they started to eat meals with other relatives and not their parents.

Meghan could not help but think about her parents back in St. Piers, California. She wanted to ask them so many questions since her departure. She wondered if their parents missed her; however, one thing for sure, Meghan did not miss them one bit.

- - -

Kamile watched as her sister blew off the strands covering over her eyes, closing the cash register with a small amount of force. Her sour attitude took life away from the plants! Meghan’s shift ended two hours ago, but Kamile left early telling Meghan she wouldn’t be in time for her turn at the shop.

As Kamile finally showed herself, Uncle Wesley made a small appearance as well. He walked into the shop before his engine was cut. A small smile grew across his face, creating small creases near his cheeks.

The only possible reason Meghan was reluctant from moving an inch that moment was his arrival. Neal Howell had glowing golden hair any hairstylist would die to touch and a smothering appeal you wouldn’t even knew existed.

“Neal?” Kamile squealed, wide eyed.

It was the one and only Neal Howell, Meghan’s therapist.


Neal Howell’s practice was on a busy street, accumulated with a variation of people walking across his building.

Meghan had stepped into his private office by calamity, gasping at the tiny area composed of supplies spread across the work space. The room was swarming with newspapers, dated back months ago, clipped up on the walls. Meghan spotted an old laptop sitting on his desk, collecting dust between the keys. The papers scattered on his desk were either spilled with coffee or was neglected with other files near by.

“That is an old room I never use anymore. The official office I am currently using is at the end of the hall.” Neal quickly said. “I have yet to start cleaning up this old room,” he last said once he locked up the room.

Meghan followed closely behind Neal, picking up his light scent. She kept her eyes down, listening to the sound of the air vent echo around Neal’s office. His office reminded nothing of other offices Meghan has seen. The walls were covered in paintings or a vivid paint color, not a single couch or sitting area was seen but two wooden chairs visible in the small waiting area, sitting lonely under a dull light bulb with a bowl of mints.

Neal brought out his keys and began unlocking a wooden door, similar to the ‘old room’. Meghan followed him into the study and sullenly grew quiet. The chairs were occupied with piles of papers, the floors consisted of unusual folders, and his own desk did not appear to be stable. Neal had one painting dangling above his desk, angled to the side. The paint color of the room was faded as well. One of the ceiling fan blades were missing and the switch had disappeared.

“Would you like anything to drink?” Neal asked courteously. “Water, juice, soda? You name it.”

Meghan politely refused and took consideration for the dedication Neal puts in to his job. A white board was hung next to his desk, flooded with red notes. She noticed a couple of shoe boxes sticking out of his closest, stuffed with documents and old forms. Neal did a horrible job hiding his clipboards behind his desk, which held a vast amount of filler paper. She heard him apologize for the mess, slowly scratching the back of his head.

“Where should we start?” Neal asked.

Meghan folded her hands into her lap, looking around attentively. Her palms started to itch, and she began to feel it in her throat. Meghan bit the side of her mouth and stared at Neal speechlessly. Neal pushed a few papers to the side, taking a closer seat next to Meghan. He placed his reading glasses on, holding a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. He looked her in the eyes and parted his mouth.

“Last session we talked about your parents. What do they do for a living?” Neal asked softly.

Meghan frowned. “They are chemists.”

Neal wrote something down on his clipboard, keeping a straight face. He pushed his glasses away from the bridge of his nose before speaking again.

“Chemists,” he repeated. “Kamile mentioned you left home after you graduated high school to move to Fort Hill. Why did you move?”

“Right.” Meghan sighed, recalling what happened that night. “I wanted something more. And I realized that staying under their hold wasn’t the greatest idea at that time.”

“Why did you move in with your uncle here in Fort Hill?” Neal curiously asked.

“She…my sister…I remember eavesdropping on Kamile’s conversation one day. She was talking about moving out of the country. Once I heard that news, I realized I wanted to do the same thing.” Meghan felt her eyebrows crush together as she spoke.

Neal placed his pen down, pursing his lips together. “You heard about Kamile moving countries, which triggered your senses about doing the same thing? Is it a usual thing you copy Kamile and her choices?”

Meghan shook her head. “I see her as a role model.”

Neal wrote something in his notes as Meghan continued to talk, nodding along. “That night, you came to the decision to move here. The same night your father was arrested. Isn’t that bizarre?”

“I see it more of a coincidence.” Meghan said, looking at Neal’s hands, swiftly flying across his clipboard. “My father’s arrest had nothing to do with my decisions.”

“Your father had been arrested for fraud and for the abuse of exposed substances. Now, if you please – ”

“What does this have to do with me?” Meghan shot aloud. “My parents are chemists, like I said before. My father was framed because people were jealous of him and what he did for a living. I cannot pay for the stupid actions of others. And I should not be questioned about it either.”

Neal nodded, crushing his eyebrows together. He crossed out a few words on his notes before looking at Meghan. He pressed his lips together, removing his reading glasses. Before he could wrap things up, Meghan stood up, sighing to herself.

“He also had bruises on his forearms.” Meghan whispered. “My father was bruised on his arms the night of his arrest. I do not know if that information will help but I thought I should let you know.”



Neal had brought up her father’s past the last time they spoke. And that was the last time Meghan ever saw Neal Howell for another session.