Wildflowers
Some people just grow a little differently than others
Erica hid in the field among the wildflowers, her face smudged with the dirt her fingers had left behind as she had wiped her tears. She would not be forced into a marriage she didn’t want. She would not!
Mama had backed her up in her desire to go to college and make something of herself beyond housewife and mother. It wasn’t that Mama was unhappy in that role, not exactly. She had told Erica that she loved being a mother, even though marriage hadn’t been her first choice.
But life on the colony world was tough on the settlers and their numbers had been small in the beginning. Mama’s parents had pushed her toward a family rather than the job in science she had coveted.
“You can always go to school later, when your children are older,” Grandpa had chided.
But later had never come. Not for Mama. It might have, now that Nicky, the youngest, was ten and able to look out for himself. But the mysterious wasting disease had started last year and Mama had returned to Earth for a cure. She wouldn’t be back for at least another eight months.
Papa and Grandpa had ganged up on Erica now that Mama wasn’t there to back her up. Her first duty, they said, was to the colony. But Erica could serve the colony in more than one way. And if boys could finish school and then start a family, she didn’t see why girls couldn’t as well.
So today she hid in the field, the wildflowers her shield against yet another family come to court her. She snorted. Come to court Papa and Grandpa more like. Determined to hold out until Mama was home again, Erica refused to even consider returning to the house until the interlopers were gone.
She peered so intently through the tall stems before her, watching for any sign of movement back at the house, that the person who popped up behind her took her completely unawares.
She stifled a scream when a hand touched her arm from behind. Heart pounding and stinging tears threatening to flow again, she turned to run, but the hand took hold, preventing her flight.
Terrified, and yet bolstered by anger, she rounded on them, yanking her arm free. “Who do you think…”
Her words trailed off as she saw who it was. “Frankie?”
Frankie looked at the ground, as if afraid to look her in the eye, scuffing a boot into the ground. “Hi Erica.” Crushed wildflower stems stained the boot green.
“You’re going to be in trouble for that.”
Frankie looked up. “I’d say we’re already in trouble. Our parents are looking to marry us off to one another. My pa says it’s because yours thinks it’s the only way you’ll give in.” An anxious look preceded the words, “You won’t, will you?”
“You know I won’t, Frankie. But what about if we tell our parents we’re willing to consider a long engagement? Maybe if we give them that much, they’ll let me go to school and it will buy you time before you have to tell your parents who you really are.”
Frankie’s eyes lit up with hope. “You reckon?”
Determined to reassure her best friend, Erica stood taller. “I’m sure of it. We can even room together at college. That’ll make them think we’re serious about it. They can even hope you’ll get me pregnant so I’ll quit.”
Frankie laughed out loud. “That’d be rich, one girl getting another pregnant. But you’re right. It would work. And once we’re Earthside for school, I can get the hormones and surgery I need so I can finally live as my true self.”
I wasn’t sure what I wanted to write today (the day of writing), so I started to browse through some images I had created a while back on Midjourney. The girl with the smudged face standing amidst wildflowers called to me.
I decided she would be hiding and that her face was smudged from crying. But why was she hiding and from whom? I didn’t know when I started that this would end up being a very contemporary story in a science fiction setting. Nor did I know that Frankie would be transgender, but such are the vagaries of writing fiction. Sometimes it surprises even the writer.
My two girls in this story are wildflowers. Both are growing a little differently than their parents had anticipated, and both are beautiful just as they are.
What about you? Did you feel free to be who you are when you were growing up? Or did you feel constrained to behave in a manner consistent with how your parents and others saw you?
This was a sweet story. I’m grateful you tell stories of marginalized people filled with hope. There needs to be more of that in the world
I was definitely a wildflower although in a completely different way. I was neglected as a child and when I grew up I likened myself to a wildflower, growing up unattended unlike others who were nurtured. I loved the out of doors and so was a true nature child. It wasn't the childhood i would have chosen but I like me now. This is why I allow a few "weeds" in my garden, a few wild flowers 💕