“Jan, she’s been in there for an hour, should you go check on her?” The curly haired man asks. Little did he know, Jan had stepped away just over a half hour ago for a smoke break. The man’s cane rested softly against the wall, his sunglasses covering his worried, tired, blind eyes.

As the endless ticks of the ever annoying clock strike 15h a petite woman emerges. Her long coat practically brushes against the linoleum tile.

“Mr. Emery?” She calls.

The blind man’s ears focus upon hearing his name. “That’s me,” he responds, waving a hello.

The nurse smiles lightly, knowing he can’t see it. “Is your wife here, sir? We are ready to conclude the session with Mrs. Harold-Emery.”

He smiles, his bright teeth shining in the dull lobby. “Why yes, darling, she is here. Jan likely went out for a smoke.” He rises, his cane taking its stance before him, “I’ll go get her.”

He leaves,  the sun shining through the door, causing him to appear to step into the heavens.

~~

“Now, Mrs. Harold-Emery, you say you’ve viewed your body poorly for approximately how long now?” A stout man asks the young woman who had been scratching at the orange cast constricting her left hand for five minutes.

“Please, it’s Max. And 14 years now, doctor.” She glances up, her thin hair perfectly framing her hollow face.

The teapot-shaped man continued to interrogate Max for the better part of an hour until he felt satisfied with his findings. He huffed, content, and leaned back. “I will send Nurse Lou back to fetch your parents,” he announced, flipping through his pages of notes.

The door opened to present a woman, clearly ill in the face, a blind man, and a petite nurse whose coat was too big for her frame. The teapot doctor welcomed them all into the room with a warm smile and wave. The blind man tapped his way to the couch, seating himself next to his daughter. The ill woman stumbled into the room, clearly having taken more than a few “smoke” breaks.

The doctor began to speak, a strange noise to come from a tea kettle, “Mr. and Mrs. Emery, I am afraid to inform you that your daughter Max has been diagnosed with Anorexia Nervosa.” He paused, observing their faces, the ill woman shrugging and the blind man’s hand rested gently upon the shoulder of the daughter whose head hung in shame.

“Makes sense!” Cheers the woman, toasting with an imaginary drink. “I knew I ain’t give no birth to no damn twig!”

The blind man turned his head towards his wife, a clear look of disgust across his covered face. “Jan, I’m gonna need you to step outside,” he speaks in the calmest Louisiana accent one could keep in a time like this.

The woman listened, stepping outside. Not, of course, without letting a few slurs slip beneath her breath.

The doctor resumed, telling the blind father what must happen now in regards to his daughter’s treatment. How, despite Max’s being a legal adult, he would recommend her staying in his care until they all could agree she was able to safely function independently.

“I shall, however,” the doctor closed, “require that...uh...Jan? Be removed while Max lives with you.”

The man nodded, thinking.

~~

“Max! Dinner!” The voice carries up the stairs, the scent of fresh quiche following. The combination quickly draws the girl away from her previous focus: her makeup.

The commonplace tapping of a cane danced across the kitchen as the table was set. A young girl trotted into the room, nearly floating at the soft smell of her father’s perfect quiche. She paused to smile out at his garden, with signs adorned in braille so he may tell which flowers grow where. Her favourites had always been the sunflowers. They grew so tall, so elegant. She often saw her father as one himself. The air force veteran who could never be bested, he’d risen from his crashed plane to face the sun, smiling as he emerged from Hell. But he was also Dad. He was the dad who raised his daughter when his wife wouldn’t and watched over her while his wife drowned her sorrows in vodka. This wife, Jan, had reacted to his time across seas as though it had been her, likely why Max could no longer stand to see her. And why the doctor couldn’t safely allow them to live together.

A loud Bark! Caused Max to return to reality from her thoughts. Her father’s golden dog had noticed her spacing out and grown worried.

“Sunny! Shut!” the man called, getting the first smile out of Max in six months.

It was the first full meal Max had eaten and kept down in 16 months. The last had been on April 14th of 2017. Only a week before she was hospitalized for an unspecified eating disorder.

Doctors would refuse to disclose any information to Max’s parents until 6 months ago. When a small man, whom Max refused to describe as anything other than Dr. Teapot, had diagnosed her with Anorexia Nervosa. That day had also been the last time Max smiled. Until today.

Dinner ended, they seperated, all was well. Max took a nap in the sunflowers, Sunny across her chest, and the August sun on her face (which finally had some colour). She even slept there overnight, the safe countryside her blanket.

It was the next morning that would change everything she had ever known.

~~

Max had woken up, Sunny still lounging on her chest, and stood, peering over the sunflowers to watch her father cook breakfast. Today, he prepared a pair of breakfast burritos, everything crafted perfectly by his precise hands.

Upon entering the house, Max could tell something was up.

Her father told her, right after placing the burrito in front of her, that her aunt had called that morning. Aunt Jenni, whom Jan had been staying with. He described the breaking in Jenni’s voice, the grief that wrapped around her words and down her throat, cutting off her breath. He told Max they would need to travel to Missouri this weekend. To attend Jan’s funeral. Max’s mother had died.

Max rested a light hand on her father’s shoulder as he cried. Jan may have been a drunken ass, but she was still his wife. She was still the mother of his child. His child who suffered so much. Who had been through more by 20 than anyone should go through by 80. Max began to remind her father of the few good times. The few times when Jan had been sober. The few memories they could all hold dear while they grieved with the rest of the family.

Little did Max know, though, that that night her poor father’s strained heart wouldn’t be able to continue. Little did she know that she had received his entire will.

She smiled as the lawyer left, turning her head immediately to the sunflowers. The sun shone so brightly, even though it had no right to be happy. Nobody did. Sunny had cried all day, whining by the man’s favourite chair, waiting for him to return to pet her.

Max stood, no emotion across her face and began outside, giving Sunny a comforting rub as she passed. She continued out into the sunflowers. She could have sworn she heard her dad amongst the fields, telling her she was his beautiful child. She began to pace, wishing to rip each of the flowers up, before the shredded thoughts became almost a melody. She began to sway, stepping softly. She let her bare feet move softly above the soil. Her eyes squeezed shut as she saw her father there, caring for the lovely plants. She spun, her face braced against the sun as she stopped, the warm feeling causing her to smile. Her father’s hand becoming light as it caressed her cheek. Soon enough she was performing a whole waltz with herself, only Sunny, the sun, and her father’s sunflowers as witness.

~~

“Sammy! Come on! It’s August 16th!” a small voice calls from downstairs in the old house.

Small footsteps can be heard hurrying down the stairs, followed closely by the pants of an old, arthritic golden retriever.

The tiny girl called Sammy reached the bottom stair, grabbing her brother’s hand, and the pair make their way outside. Sunny had already run far ahead to admire her dear friend.

Outside was the most magical sight one could see. Dear Max, dancing outside, the warm summer sun across her face. Sunny laying in the grass, her golden fur illuminating the flowers around. The sunflowers that towered above the kids, dancing along to Max’s beat. The two dropped their jaws in awe, never having known where their mom disappears every August 16th. Max’s eyes squinted open, her hands extending to the children.

It was there, dancing in the flower fields of memories, that Max knew. She had found home.

And home was right there, dancing in sunflowers.