Crushed Lavender

2nd in the 'Step Write Up 2011' competition

“Welcome to the Happy Seul Retirement Estate,” a cheerful, middle-aged brunette said as she wheeled the man through a main gate, flanked either side by roses and lavender. He was old and crumbling; deeply etched wrinkles were surrounded by brown, papery skin. Various wisps of white hair floated around his head. Blue eyes – once bright, now dulled by time and decay – hid in the centre of his face, downcast and blank. His hands shook on the sides of his wheelchair.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the woman said, beaming.
“I suppose,” he replied slowly.
“That’s the spirit, Mr. Mayers! You’ll soon see how magical this place is. Why, I weighed eighty kilos when I first started here, and now look at me. Three months and twenty kilos gone.”
She hummed happily, briskly pushing the man as he sighed deeply.
“Look, Mr. Mayers, your cottage is right over there.” The woman pointed across the path they were walking down, to a small, red cottage nestled under two eucalyptus trees. Bountiful lavender bushes swayed in the early-morning breeze.
“Lavender...”
“What was that, Mr. Mayers?”
“Oh, nothing. Just noticed the lavender bushes. Talking to myself, really.”
“Yes, it’s quite normal around here, don’t worry!” She laughed merrily. “Your cottage is properly furnished and everything’s working, so you can move in today. I know, it’s a bit small, but you should be able to squeeze five people in and maybe six for Sunday lunch.”
The man breathed deeply, tightening his grip on the wheelchair.
“You can have people over whenever you want, but make sure they don’t leave the Estate at night. If you need any extra food or bedding, just give us a yell, and we’ll supply whatever you need. That’ll be nice, won’t it? Lots of family visits and company; just what you need at your age. Plenty of grandchildren to keep you company, I suppose?”
The man shut his eyes, shaking his head slightly.
“Ah well. You can invite all of your friends over instead. Perhaps a lady friend?” She raised her eyebrows suggestively. “I’m sure a handsome man like you just pulls the ladies in, am I right?”
“Not really.”
The woman stopped at the front door of the cottage.
“That’s funny, actually...”
“What is?” His voice crackled as he spoke.
“When you mentioned the lavender before, I just remembered. They’re ironic, really, if you think about it.”
“How so?”
“Well, they symbolise loneliness, which is the exact opposite of Happy Seul. Everyone here is cared for and comforted. Everyone has companions and friends who are there for them. Ironic, like I said.”
She walked off into the cottage, her feet clattering on the floor. The man sighed and stroked the lavender gently. The sweet smell danced through the air, flying in the wind.
“Ironic for some,” he said quietly, before wheeling himself into the cottage.

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