Chapter 11 #2
“Well, that’s just great, honey. Remember, you can always become an administrative assistant or something. Maybe at a dental office? I hear some of them offer great healthcare benefits. The team just says you have to be full-time somewhere, right?”
“Full-time or a student.” I hope my tone stays chipper as my brain seeps back into negative territory…
I’m probably the least successful cheerleader on the team.
The girls are go-getters. With bachelor’s degrees and master’s, and some already out in the workforce as nurses and whatever.
And where am I? Floundering, watering plants.
I let myself venture back into that dark place, and I imagine myself in another life.
Sitting behind a front desk, getting yelled at for processing the wrong credit card.
Calling insurance companies who will no doubt deny procedures.
Getting yelled at again. On top of all the yelling and calling, the last thing I want to do is sit behind some gray desk in a gray carpeted room with ash-colored walls again. I would never survive.
“Mom, I’m pulling up to McMurphy’s. I’ll text you later, okay?”
“You’re still helping that grump out?”
“Mom! Mary’s not grumpy. She’s just… crotchety.”
“Is that better?” My mom laughs. “Love you. Bye!”
“Love you!”
She hangs up as I park outside McMurphy's Home and Garden. It’s a quaint place. A little rundown, but most of the shops are in this part of town. The pay isn’t great, but money is money, and I can learn a lot from the owner.
A tinny bell rings overhead as I push through the glass door.
“Hello! I’m here!” I sing-song.
“Ack! The bells are enough.” Her gait is uneven as she pushes through the beaded curtain that leads to the back room. She has a cane today.
“Mary, what happened?”
“What do you mean?” She follows my eyeline to her cane. “This old thing? Thought it looked good with my outfit.”
My brow furrows, and she swats at the air, attempting to erase my concern.
“Don’t worry about me, what you need to worry about is those calatheas that came in this morning. We’ve got our work cut out with those. I don’t know what they did when they shipped them, but they look like they’ve got one foot in the grave. And I know a thing or two about that.”
I snort. “Stop it.”
“Look at me! I know about the grave.”
I shake my head and take my time following her to the back, moderating my pace so I don’t pass her. She doesn’t need a reminder that she’s a little slower today.
“Terry’s covering the front for now. He’s gotta be up there anyway to reorganize the lawn ornaments to fit in our backstock of gnomes,” she says over her shoulder.
“I thought you said you were just going to let them rot in the back ‘cause no one buys them. Your words, not mine.”
“Eh. It’ll be Halloween soon enough. Maybe someone can use ‘em for decor.”
“I love the way your brain works.”
She grunts at me as we make it to the cramped back room.
Gingerly, her fingers brush over one of the calatheas resting atop a work counter.
My thumb may not be as green as hers, but I’ve been working on it.
In all the time I’ve spent trying to make the Vista City Kings cheerleaders, I’ve fallen in love with plants, and—despite the mildew-stenched walls—this shop.
There’s a reason this place has stayed open for nearly forty years.
If I ever want my business to last longer than next month, I need some pointers.
Mary coaxes the plant out of its plastic encasement and moves it to a larger pot. “This one needs some extra attention, so it’ll sit next to the register for us to keep an eye on.”
A wide grin splays across my face. Mary does a double-take, all tenderness leaving her voice as she backs out of the room. “Don’t look at me that way. Get to the shipment, girl!”
Today’s delivery is only a few pallets. They’ve gotten smaller and smaller over the year I’ve been here. It’s kind of sad. I don’t say anything, but I know it’s because business isn’t exactly booming these days. I hum along, snipping and repotting some of the more pitiful-looking botanicals.
Driving from house to house for plant sitting is fine, but being at McMurphy’s is the highlight of my week.
The back room is quiet, a safe haven where I can test my knowledge without anyone biting my head off.
Mary leaves me to it. It’s her silent encouragement that helped me gain the confidence I needed to open my own business.
It’s her who I’ll ask about my last plant murdering incident that awarded me a less-than-stellar rating.
Mary’s a grumbly little thing, but deep down inside her, there are cracks of sweetness and goodness.
I’ve seen them. Plus, she’s a whiz in the plant department.
Her shop offers me a bliss I’ve never found on a stage or at cheer try-outs.
Even after making the team, I should still be walking on the moon, but that high was fleeting, as are most I’ve found.
Troubleshooting these calatheas today is just the dopamine hit I needed.
I inspect each one from root to leaf, humming them an Avery-original melody as I make my rounds.
I once read that singing and talking to plants can help them thrive.
From that day forward, I added singer to my invisible special talents resume.
Mrs. McMurphy bursts back into the room, startling me. “What you trying to sing there?”
I laugh at her word choice. “Trying?”
“Oh, come on, girl. You’re a dancer and a plant enthusiast, not a vocalist.” She shakes her head. “Cheerleader. Whatever. Do you all actually do any cheering?”
“We boost morale with dance.”
“So no cheers? Just shaking your keister in short skirts and tight tops?”
“We have pompoms,” I amend.
“Oh, now we’re talking.” She rolls her eyes.
I throw my head back and laugh. I can’t help it. Who says stuff like that out loud?
She mutters something and steps into her little office before reappearing across the work table from me. “Did I tell you about the boy that came in the other night?”
I shake my head.
“Although boy is probably the wrong word. He was a man. A large one. Tattoos. Cleared us clean out of orchids.”
I stop snipping and turn to face her. Tattoos? Orchids? He’s already sounding very… familiar.
She shakes her head. “Handsome, but dumb. Overpaid by a good bit, but hasn’t been back to reclaim it, so…” She shrugs a shriveled shoulder.
Something warm fizzes through my veins. “Maybe he left it to you on purpose.”
She looks at me like I’m crazy, and I give her a once-over. Mary’s not exactly radiating with health, and she’s standing in the middle of a crumbling back room. The money thing wasn’t an accident; it was because she looks like she needs it.
And for some reason, Ty can’t seem to help himself when he thinks someone is in need.
“Do you know his name?” I ask.
She shakes her head, and her tight curls shiver. “No. No, just another handsome face without a name. Reminds me of my first husband, with the tattoos n’ all. He was a sailor. Have I told you that?”
I smile. “Yes, I think I’ve heard about Gregory a few times.”
“Forgive this old bird for repeating herself. Every year I age, I lose a memory. His hasn’t left me yet. My mind isn’t what it used to be.”
Her words strike me right in the heart, tingeing my elation at being here with sadness. “Oh, stop it, Mary. You’ve memorized almost all of the barcodes. You’re amazing. I wish I was half as bright as you.”
“You’re bright, Avery. And we both know it. Playing dumb doesn’t suit you.”
I cock my head to the side. “I’m not playing dumb.”
“Pfft. I heard you with that customer the other day. You let him talk your ear off about what time of year was best to plant his new roses, and we both know he was wrong. You just smiled and nodded.”
I sprinkle a little fertilizer in with my potting soil. “He told me his wife left him that morning. Being right made him seem happy.”
“You didn’t do that man any favors by blowing smoke up his butt. Like I’ve told you before… A smile isn’t a solution, Avery. Don’t you forget that.”
My lips wobble before pressing into my usual grin. “Noted. Thank you.”
“If you weren’t so darn lovable, I’d smack you.”
I gasp. “Did you finally admit out loud that you love me?”
“Love is a strong word. A loaded one. I suggest you use it sparingly… like me.”
I want to press her more—razzing Mary is one of my favorite pastimes—but the bell chimes up front, and the faraway look in her faded eyes shuts off. “Stop pestering me and move those fertilizer bags. The good Lord knows I can’t lean over that far anymore.”
She grabs her cane and disappears through the swinging door to help the customer.
As I slip on my gardening gloves in preparation to move the bags, I can’t help but consider her words.
A smile isn’t a solution. Of course it isn’t, but it’s a balm.
To me. To those around me. My pearly whites have gotten me out of more than a few mishaps.