Miriam Shumba
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Miriam Shumba is the author of two novels, Show Me the Sun and That Which Has
Horns, both published in the USA by Genesis Press. She has had several short stories and
articles published in Zimbabwe, South Africa, and the United States. She earned her teaching
degree at Rhodes University in South Africa and continued her education at Walden
University. Miriam has taught elementary school in several countries. She moved to the
United States in 2001 and now lives in Michigan with her husband.
Horns, both published in the USA by Genesis Press. She has had several short stories and
articles published in Zimbabwe, South Africa, and the United States. She earned her teaching
degree at Rhodes University in South Africa and continued her education at Walden
University. Miriam has taught elementary school in several countries. She moved to the
United States in 2001 and now lives in Michigan with her husband.
The Pricey Bouquet, a Short Story by Miriam Shumba
I barely made it to school on time, that Monday morning. My weekend had been hectic. Weekends were
meant to be relaxing but exhaustion clung to me like a mist over Table Mountain. My husband, my kids, my
domestic worker all wanted a piece of me. Pumla was now saying that she could no longer work weekends
so I had to do everything. I know she had her own family to look after but when I gave her the job she had
worked for me at least on Saturdays. Since Nelson Mandela had become the President just a year ago, Pumla
was on a go slow, taking slow deliberate steps to hang out the clothes on the line, with a sigh in between
each sock. She wanted to finish at five and if supper wasn’t cooking then, oh well. I had to do it. I didn’t
want to fire her. This was the New South Africa. I even had black kids in my class whereas before the
school was all white. Who knew what could happen? Besides, I didn’t have time to look for another maid.
I parked my dented Volvo and made my way to my 5th grade classroom, right in the heart of Cape Town.
The students were standing outside the blue wooden door as I had instructed them from day one.
“Good morning boys and girls,” I greeted the children.
“Good morning Mrs. Harding,” the boys and girls echoed. They all stood in line, smartly dressed in their gray
uniforms and a bright red blazer.
Just before I stepped into my dark and cold classroom I noticed Mrs. Wier walking down the concrete
corridor. Her appearance was like lightning in the middle of winter. Unexpected. Striking. Georgina Wier, the
stunning dark-haired beauty more suited to modeling than teaching 6th graders. That chilly morning she wore
a gorgeous white pants suit and a bright blue turtleneck that offset her dark baby blue eyes. With the cold
winds the winter clothes were coming out in stylish bright and warm colors. The envy that filled my whole
stomach spilled onto my black sweater. I touched my brown bob wishing I could lighten or darken. I
certainly needed to wear more make up, lose a few pounds, and maybe grow a little taller.
There’s something about beauty. We are all drawn to it, wanting to be in its shadow, to have it brush our
shoulders and leave some of its gold dust by our feet. We want to be associated with it to see its eyes touch
us and say we are okay too. That was Georgina Wier. Her tall, lithe body looked graceful in the expensive
clothes she wore. I didn’t know where she shopped but it wasn’t Foshini or Truworths, that’s for sure.
You would think that her beauty and elegance was all there was to desire but she had more to add to her over
flowing cup of attributes. Her husband, dark haired, was as rich as he was handsome. She added insult to
injury by being too high and mighty to talk to the rest of us. She usually came to the lunchroom to take her
lunch then leave. She didn’t have the time to exchange gossip with the rest of us mere mortals or to give us
a small window into her life. Her secret life was as accessible as Robben Island with no boat in sight.
Georgina waved at me as she got into her classroom. I waved back and got into my classroom determined to
go shopping after work and get an outfit just as nice as Georgina’s. If I could afford it. My Monday had just
gone from bad to worse.
“Hello Mrs. Harding,” Hilda Jacobs, the second grade teacher greeted me as I got to the staff room at break
time. The soft couches, pot plants and pictures on the walls all welcomed me into their embrace as I
checked my mail box that was neatly labeled with my name, Louisa Harding.
“How are you Mrs. Jacobs?” As I sat down next to her on the couch, I noticed a huge bouquet of flowers
sitting on the counter next to the fridge.
“Whose are these?” I asked gesturing towards the splash of colour. The design of the bouquet was unique
and definitely pricey. The crystal vase was probably as expensive as my living room furniture.
“I think they are for Mrs. Wier,” Hilda said tossing her sandy blonde hair. She shared the same sentiments
that I did towards our perfect goddess. Hilda had a bubbly personality and contagious laugh and had a
scathing way of observing people. At 25, she wasn’t married yet and liked to discuss her share of bad
relationships with the staff, the radio DJ who broke up with her on air, the over worked accountant in
training who fell asleep on their date. I also poured out my feelings about my husband of 15 years, Nathan.
His idea of romance was taking me to watch rugby or buy me an umbrella for a birthday present just
because I got caught in the rain once. He had never sent me a flower since I had known him and here was
Georgina Wier getting a glorious bouquet from a sexy rich husband. Not only that, but Georgina also drove
to work in a bright blue X5 and lived in the most exclusive Bantry Bay with ocean views. Life was just
unfair.
“They are superb,” I said.
“What does she do to get such flowers?” Hilda asked but before I could answer, Georgina breezed in like she
was on a cloud, a serene smile on her perfectly made up face. She wore a dark red lipstick that made her full
lips look like strawberries. Her hair sat perfectly on her slim shoulders and her white clothes didn’t have a
speck of dirt on them. Even the dust of the earth respected our dear Mrs. Wier.
“Good morning,” she said, walking towards the refrigerator where she kept her yogurt, fruit and sparkling
water. She was always polite but distant, like the queen greeting her servants. I felt like I was the chamber
maid next to her.
“Good morning. How are you? These are your flowers,” Hilda said.
“Oh, how lovely. Thank you,” Georgina replied taking her lunch from the fridge, barely looking at the
flowers.
“Is it your birthday?” I had to ask. I would feel better if she was getting flowers because it was her birthday
or anniversary, or even if it was because her cat had died.
“Oh no. Dominic likes to surprise me with flowers for no reason,” she said, picking up the bouquet with
both hands after tucking her brown bag under her arm. She smiled at us, a warm genuine smile, then walked
out of the room.
“She bugs me,” Hilda said with a bitter smile.
“Me too,” I responded though I was struck by something in her manner.
“She thinks she is too good to eat lunch with us or even ask about our lives. She never says more than a few
words to me,” Hilda complained.
“I know.” I was still struck by the expression on her face as she picked up her flowers.
After work, I fetched my son, Bill from a rugby match at his school and then my daughter, Laura from
choir practice. By the time I got home I was more than tired and Pumla had already left. My children talked
about all their problems with coaches, friends and teachers and I nodded absently. The first thing that
greeted me was the mess from breakfast: milk forgotten on the counter and half-eaten syrupy pancakes dried
in their plates. It was enough to make me want to smash something. Pumla only did the washing on Monday
and refused to touch anything else.
A few minutes later Scott walked in through the door ,his laptop and jacket in hand.
“Hey Lou.. What’s for dinner?” he asked.
“How about how was your day first?” I threw him an unfriendly look.
“It doesn’t look like you had a good day,” Scott said walking towards our bedroom.
I was so angry already. Dinner was going to be toasted sandwiches. Nobody’s favourite but easy for me to
make. I was not in the mood for slaving on the stove. They would all wash the dishes and there would be no
help from me.
We sat down to eat as a family as we did every night but I kept seeing those beautiful flowers sitting on the
table at school. Where were my flowers?
At school the next day I decided not to go to the staff room at break time and stayed in the classroom to
mark some papers. I heard strange sounds coming from the slightly open window. I walked to the window
but realized it wasn’t outside my window but a few windows away from mine. The strange shuffling sound
was coming from one of the classrooms.
I guessed that one of the children was playing around in the classroom at break time or was probably stealing
from other children’s desks. I looked forward to catching the culprit.
I walked out of my classroom and glanced in the distance at the children that ran around in the sun
screaming and yelling like their lungs would explode.
The next classroom was empty. As I neared the classroom everything I had ever thought of Georgina fled
my mind like birds fleeing from trees. All day long I couldn’t get Georgina out my mind.
That evening, I passed through Pick and Pay and bought steaks and potatoes. I made the family’s favourite
supper that night. When Scott walked in at 6pm I walked out to meet him by the door and held him tightly in
my arms. I smiled as he put down his bag and held me close to his chest.
“Welcome home darling,” I said.
In bed I lay down next to my husband but my mind was back at school standing outside Mrs. Wier’s
classroom. I heard a voice I didn’t recognize. It sounded guttural, deep and violent. I ran thinking someone
was attacking Ms. Wier. I pushed the door and she didn’t even see me. She stood alone facing the windows
her cell phone close to her ear. In the second I stood there I saw the tip of the flowers sticking out of the
trash can but what shocked me were the curses she growled into the phone to her husband.
“Don’t send me flowers again, you lousy ….. I saw it.. I saw it..”
I moved away, my heart racing like I had trespassed on someone’s land and could get shot. I had never seen
Mrs. Wier upset about anything. I had never been in her classroom! I moved away from the doorway
before she saw me.
I would never have guessed that Georgina was a woman filled with pain and insecurity just like me. How did
Georgina manage to appear like everything was going well in her life, and us who had it all, always
complained and envied? As I huddled closer to Scott my last thought was of the pricey bouquet in the
garbage can at school.
I barely made it to school on time, that Monday morning. My weekend had been hectic. Weekends were
meant to be relaxing but exhaustion clung to me like a mist over Table Mountain. My husband, my kids, my
domestic worker all wanted a piece of me. Pumla was now saying that she could no longer work weekends
so I had to do everything. I know she had her own family to look after but when I gave her the job she had
worked for me at least on Saturdays. Since Nelson Mandela had become the President just a year ago, Pumla
was on a go slow, taking slow deliberate steps to hang out the clothes on the line, with a sigh in between
each sock. She wanted to finish at five and if supper wasn’t cooking then, oh well. I had to do it. I didn’t
want to fire her. This was the New South Africa. I even had black kids in my class whereas before the
school was all white. Who knew what could happen? Besides, I didn’t have time to look for another maid.
I parked my dented Volvo and made my way to my 5th grade classroom, right in the heart of Cape Town.
The students were standing outside the blue wooden door as I had instructed them from day one.
“Good morning boys and girls,” I greeted the children.
“Good morning Mrs. Harding,” the boys and girls echoed. They all stood in line, smartly dressed in their gray
uniforms and a bright red blazer.
Just before I stepped into my dark and cold classroom I noticed Mrs. Wier walking down the concrete
corridor. Her appearance was like lightning in the middle of winter. Unexpected. Striking. Georgina Wier, the
stunning dark-haired beauty more suited to modeling than teaching 6th graders. That chilly morning she wore
a gorgeous white pants suit and a bright blue turtleneck that offset her dark baby blue eyes. With the cold
winds the winter clothes were coming out in stylish bright and warm colors. The envy that filled my whole
stomach spilled onto my black sweater. I touched my brown bob wishing I could lighten or darken. I
certainly needed to wear more make up, lose a few pounds, and maybe grow a little taller.
There’s something about beauty. We are all drawn to it, wanting to be in its shadow, to have it brush our
shoulders and leave some of its gold dust by our feet. We want to be associated with it to see its eyes touch
us and say we are okay too. That was Georgina Wier. Her tall, lithe body looked graceful in the expensive
clothes she wore. I didn’t know where she shopped but it wasn’t Foshini or Truworths, that’s for sure.
You would think that her beauty and elegance was all there was to desire but she had more to add to her over
flowing cup of attributes. Her husband, dark haired, was as rich as he was handsome. She added insult to
injury by being too high and mighty to talk to the rest of us. She usually came to the lunchroom to take her
lunch then leave. She didn’t have the time to exchange gossip with the rest of us mere mortals or to give us
a small window into her life. Her secret life was as accessible as Robben Island with no boat in sight.
Georgina waved at me as she got into her classroom. I waved back and got into my classroom determined to
go shopping after work and get an outfit just as nice as Georgina’s. If I could afford it. My Monday had just
gone from bad to worse.
“Hello Mrs. Harding,” Hilda Jacobs, the second grade teacher greeted me as I got to the staff room at break
time. The soft couches, pot plants and pictures on the walls all welcomed me into their embrace as I
checked my mail box that was neatly labeled with my name, Louisa Harding.
“How are you Mrs. Jacobs?” As I sat down next to her on the couch, I noticed a huge bouquet of flowers
sitting on the counter next to the fridge.
“Whose are these?” I asked gesturing towards the splash of colour. The design of the bouquet was unique
and definitely pricey. The crystal vase was probably as expensive as my living room furniture.
“I think they are for Mrs. Wier,” Hilda said tossing her sandy blonde hair. She shared the same sentiments
that I did towards our perfect goddess. Hilda had a bubbly personality and contagious laugh and had a
scathing way of observing people. At 25, she wasn’t married yet and liked to discuss her share of bad
relationships with the staff, the radio DJ who broke up with her on air, the over worked accountant in
training who fell asleep on their date. I also poured out my feelings about my husband of 15 years, Nathan.
His idea of romance was taking me to watch rugby or buy me an umbrella for a birthday present just
because I got caught in the rain once. He had never sent me a flower since I had known him and here was
Georgina Wier getting a glorious bouquet from a sexy rich husband. Not only that, but Georgina also drove
to work in a bright blue X5 and lived in the most exclusive Bantry Bay with ocean views. Life was just
unfair.
“They are superb,” I said.
“What does she do to get such flowers?” Hilda asked but before I could answer, Georgina breezed in like she
was on a cloud, a serene smile on her perfectly made up face. She wore a dark red lipstick that made her full
lips look like strawberries. Her hair sat perfectly on her slim shoulders and her white clothes didn’t have a
speck of dirt on them. Even the dust of the earth respected our dear Mrs. Wier.
“Good morning,” she said, walking towards the refrigerator where she kept her yogurt, fruit and sparkling
water. She was always polite but distant, like the queen greeting her servants. I felt like I was the chamber
maid next to her.
“Good morning. How are you? These are your flowers,” Hilda said.
“Oh, how lovely. Thank you,” Georgina replied taking her lunch from the fridge, barely looking at the
flowers.
“Is it your birthday?” I had to ask. I would feel better if she was getting flowers because it was her birthday
or anniversary, or even if it was because her cat had died.
“Oh no. Dominic likes to surprise me with flowers for no reason,” she said, picking up the bouquet with
both hands after tucking her brown bag under her arm. She smiled at us, a warm genuine smile, then walked
out of the room.
“She bugs me,” Hilda said with a bitter smile.
“Me too,” I responded though I was struck by something in her manner.
“She thinks she is too good to eat lunch with us or even ask about our lives. She never says more than a few
words to me,” Hilda complained.
“I know.” I was still struck by the expression on her face as she picked up her flowers.
After work, I fetched my son, Bill from a rugby match at his school and then my daughter, Laura from
choir practice. By the time I got home I was more than tired and Pumla had already left. My children talked
about all their problems with coaches, friends and teachers and I nodded absently. The first thing that
greeted me was the mess from breakfast: milk forgotten on the counter and half-eaten syrupy pancakes dried
in their plates. It was enough to make me want to smash something. Pumla only did the washing on Monday
and refused to touch anything else.
A few minutes later Scott walked in through the door ,his laptop and jacket in hand.
“Hey Lou.. What’s for dinner?” he asked.
“How about how was your day first?” I threw him an unfriendly look.
“It doesn’t look like you had a good day,” Scott said walking towards our bedroom.
I was so angry already. Dinner was going to be toasted sandwiches. Nobody’s favourite but easy for me to
make. I was not in the mood for slaving on the stove. They would all wash the dishes and there would be no
help from me.
We sat down to eat as a family as we did every night but I kept seeing those beautiful flowers sitting on the
table at school. Where were my flowers?
At school the next day I decided not to go to the staff room at break time and stayed in the classroom to
mark some papers. I heard strange sounds coming from the slightly open window. I walked to the window
but realized it wasn’t outside my window but a few windows away from mine. The strange shuffling sound
was coming from one of the classrooms.
I guessed that one of the children was playing around in the classroom at break time or was probably stealing
from other children’s desks. I looked forward to catching the culprit.
I walked out of my classroom and glanced in the distance at the children that ran around in the sun
screaming and yelling like their lungs would explode.
The next classroom was empty. As I neared the classroom everything I had ever thought of Georgina fled
my mind like birds fleeing from trees. All day long I couldn’t get Georgina out my mind.
That evening, I passed through Pick and Pay and bought steaks and potatoes. I made the family’s favourite
supper that night. When Scott walked in at 6pm I walked out to meet him by the door and held him tightly in
my arms. I smiled as he put down his bag and held me close to his chest.
“Welcome home darling,” I said.
In bed I lay down next to my husband but my mind was back at school standing outside Mrs. Wier’s
classroom. I heard a voice I didn’t recognize. It sounded guttural, deep and violent. I ran thinking someone
was attacking Ms. Wier. I pushed the door and she didn’t even see me. She stood alone facing the windows
her cell phone close to her ear. In the second I stood there I saw the tip of the flowers sticking out of the
trash can but what shocked me were the curses she growled into the phone to her husband.
“Don’t send me flowers again, you lousy ….. I saw it.. I saw it..”
I moved away, my heart racing like I had trespassed on someone’s land and could get shot. I had never seen
Mrs. Wier upset about anything. I had never been in her classroom! I moved away from the doorway
before she saw me.
I would never have guessed that Georgina was a woman filled with pain and insecurity just like me. How did
Georgina manage to appear like everything was going well in her life, and us who had it all, always
complained and envied? As I huddled closer to Scott my last thought was of the pricey bouquet in the
garbage can at school.