Narcissus Pseudonarcissus

• Brianna MacDonald, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2018

I unhook my dress from its hanger and step in to it, letting the material encase my body like a warm hug. The soft yellow silk cascaded around my figure, swaying as I turn my body to check for imperfections. I nod and sit down at my dressing table, putting on some light foundation and some natural eyeshadows, steering clear of mascara. I give a small smile to my reflection, pin my daffodil badge on my collar, standing up just as my door opens. My mother walks in, her royal blue dress gently floating above the floor.
“You look beautiful Talia. My baby is all grown up.”
“Mama! Stop before you make us both cry,” I say as I embrace her in a tight hug, fearing she’d disappear at any moment. I pull back to get a look at her face.
“Is dad dressed? How does he look? Is he in his favourite tuxedo or the one we picked out for him? Is he at the church? When will he get there? Is he--”
“Talia, breathe. Your father is going to be at the church before we get there and he really wanted to be in his lucky tux for this.”
She gives me a tight smile, her eyes collecting water as we stand in brief silence, letting the slow soothing sounds of our breaths calm our racing hearts.
“Are you nervous baby?”
“I just really want to make him proud. That’s all I ever wanted.”
My Ma nods in understanding.
“The flowers are downstairs.”
I nod once, knowing anything I say will result in hot, heavy tears. We walk downstairs side by side, occasionally eyeing each other to make sure that the other is still there, a silly but needed reassurance. I walk into the dining room and see a bright bouquet of flowers – crisp yellow daffodils. We lock up the house after double checking ourselves, and our limousine silently rolls up to the curb. We arrive at the church hand in hand and we're greeted with a full house, my best friend standing outside the door. My mother walks ahead of me and tells me that she’ll be in the front row. I nod and after a few minutes of hyping myself up and trying to calm my racing heart, I open the double doors and walk with a smile down the aisle, being greeted with smiles, waves and nods of heads, in a sea of yellow daffodils. I walk to the podium placed a bit to the left and clear my throat, ignoring the shiny wooden box covered with candles and flowers.
“Thank you all for coming. Narcissus Pseudonarcissus or the daffodil was my Father's favourite flower. He often told me it was named after him."
I paused hearing the soft laughter vibrate around the room, and then continued.
“He would have been embarrassed to hear me say that, but we’re here to celebrate his life and achievements, so I think he may have over looked it.”