Jay submitted her library token at the counter, holding her bag tightly close, like it might dissolve if she let go. Her legs carried her out of the building almost on their own, and by the time she stepped into the soft light of the afternoon, she was nearly panting.
What am I feeling?
She didn't know. A strange cocktail of heaviness and something light — not quite sadness, not quite joy — just a funny feeling and a fullness she didn't have the words for. She started walking by the road side to calm herself instead of crying. She didn't want to cry. Not again. Not in the middle of the street. So she continued to stroll by the roadside. Just some enough time to catch her breath, to let the weight of the novel settle inside her without crushing her. Cars passed slowly. People moved like background noise.
She put on her earphones and let the music find her. Randomly, Takeaway by The Chainsmokers and Illenium began to play. The haunting melody filled her ears like fog over a restless lake.
"Hey, hey, hey
Where do you think you're going?
It's so late, late, late
What's wrong?
I said, "I can't stay, do I have to give a reason?
It's just me, me, me, it's what I want"
Her eyes glistened again, the song told her story of what she had just faced a few hours ago with her mother. She felt embarrassed. It felt everything she was coming across was bringing her back to how she shouted in front of her mother being disrespectful and disobedient. What she didn't want to accept was the fact that she had all the reason and right to be free and do what she wanted. But before she could lament on all that suddenly she felt, a gentle tap on her back.
Her heart skipped — thumped — beat.
Him?
She turned around quickly, half-hopeful, half-terrified.
But no. It wasn't him.
It was a little girl. No older than eight. Her cheeks were slightly smudged with dust, her hair tied into two uneven pigtails. She wore a long faded frock, and her arms were full of flowers.
Bright, bold, beautiful flowers.
Jay removed one earplug. "Hey."
"Flowers?" the girl offered sweetly, lifting the bouquet a little higher.
Jay smiled and glanced down. Roses, marigolds, carnations — but among them was a small, awkward-looking sapling in a black plastic bag, its thin stem rising with a few scattered leaves. Without any flowers.
It didn't belong in the bouquet. It looked misplaced. Jay felt drawn to it so she picked it up.
"What's this one?" she asked curiously.
The girl squinted. "I don't know. I picked it up this morning. It was just lying on the side when I was collecting flowers. I think it's… ugly."
Jay frowned slightly. "Ugly?"
The girl shrugged. "Nobody buys it. You can take it for free if you want…"
Jay chuckled. "But you're selling everything else."
"It's not pretty like the others."
Jay opened her bag and pulled out a few folded notes. "Well, I think I like this one the most." She pressed the money gently into the girl's tiny hand.
The girl's eyes widened as if someone had handed her gold.
"You're giving me this much?" she whispered.
"Yeah," Jay said with a soft smile. "It deserves to be bought too, doesn't it?"
The girl stood frozen, staring at Jay like she wasn't real.
Jay took a few steps away but then stopped, something pulling her back. She turned around, and the girl was still there — standing perfectly still, staring at the money in her hand, her bouquet now slightly tilted from the sapling's absence.
Jay walked back, squatted down to her level, and gently tapped her cheek.
"Listen, no one is ugly," she said firmly.
The girl blinked up at her, unsure.
Jay placed a finger over her own chest. "But this — this thing inside us — it can get ugly. When people are cruel, selfish, or mean, when they hurt and insult everyone, call others ugly, when people cry because of them, when people move to the verge of ending their lives because of them, that when their heart starts to stink ."
The girl stared, her small brow furrowed. She pressed her tiny hand to her chest and asked in a trembling voice, "Is my heart… ugly?"
Jay gave a short laugh and brushed the girl's hair behind her ear. "No, buttercup. Only people who hurt others, insult them, or call them names — they get a rot inside here ," she tapped gently.
"But… my mama hits me sometimes, she hurt me," the girl said with quiet certainty. "She's ugly in there?"
Jay's heart squeezed. She took a breath.
"No, sweetheart. Your mama hits you because she probably doesn't know another way. She might be tired or scared. Sometimes people end up hurting others when they don't have anyone to help them when they hurt or when they have no words."
The girl frowned. "But it hurts."
"I know," Jay said softly. "But do you do bad things when she tells you not to?"
The girl thought, then slowly nodded. "Sometimes."
"See? She wants you to be better. That doesn't make her ugly."
There was a long silence.
Then Jay grinned. "But wait… if I remember correctly, I heard a little girl just now say this sapling is ugly…" she said, holding it up with mock horror.
The girl's mouth dropped open. "Nooo! I didn't say that!" she giggled.
Jay raised an eyebrow playfully.
"I mean," the girl corrected with a giggle, "this is the most beautiful plant ever!"
Jay laughed. "Nice save. But you don't have to lie."
The little girl then quickly pulled a white lily from her bouquet and, before Jay could react, tucked it behind Jay's ear.
"Hey! What are you doing?" Jay said, startled, her hand reaching for it.
But the girl had already spun around and dashed away, giggling wildly.
Jay stood there stunned for a moment, then slowly lowered her hand and let the flower stay. The wind brushed her cheeks. The music still played faintly in one ear. Now If we have each other by Alec Benjamin was playing in the background.
"When the world's not perfect,
when the world's not kind
If we have each other,
then we'll both be fine"
…
She looked down at the sapling in her hand. Still bare. Still waiting to bloom.
"Just like me," she whispered, and started walking again, the lily still tucked behind her ear…