Page 93 of Fundamentals of Being a Good Girl
“They didn’t always have the whole shopping center,” Bram explains. “But as businesses moved out, they snapped up the other storefronts until they’d taken over the whole place and eventually bought the property outright.”
The shopping center is low and wide in true mid-century modern fashion and the sign is angular with teal starbursts. The letterboard beneath the sign readsGO BIG OR GOURD HOME.
When we walk in, the kid behind the counter waves to Bram, who at first grabs a basket but then opts for one of the small shopping carts instead. “Just in case,” he explains.
I appoint myself the official shopping cart pusher, and rather than walk alongside me, Bram hovers behind me with his hands on my shoulders and the rise and fall of his chest brushing against my back.
“So,” he says. “It sounds like an air plant was not the best option for you. And I can understand your frustration. A lot of tending plants is intuitive, which isn’t always user-friendly for the casual plant owner.”
“I’m going to kill this thing,” I tell him. “I’m going to kill it, and you’re going to be so disappointed in me.”
He bends down and tsks in my ear. “Baby, you could kill an entire greenhouse and I wouldn’t be disappointed in you.”
My breath hitches at the completely standard pet name that couples everywhere use. I let my head drop against his chest for a moment. “Okay, Bram, lead the way.”
We weave up and down each aisle, and in and out of the open air part of the property in the back.
The only time I waver for a few moments is when I see a display of small pots. One of them is the exact shade of red lipstick I wear, with small hand-painted gold constellations.
“Plant first,” Bram whispers.
I watch as he examines a table of snake plants and mutters to himself about the pros and cons of owning one. At one point, he finds a hose and waters a section of mums and asters only to arrange some of the succulents based on how the sun has shifted now that our days are shorter.
I watch him work and I can almost see that teenage boy who hadn’t fully grown into his build yet but was just at home in this quiet place where not a single plant asked for anything, and yet it was Bram’s job to know exactly what they needed.
I wander a little as he continues to situate the succulents until I stop in front of a table of purple cacti.
“Santa Rita,” he says from behind me. “It’s a prickly pear that turns purple in the fall—or when it’s in distress. They bloom in the spring. They’re pretty self-sufficient in the wild.”
“Like me,” I say under my breath.
He presses his lips to my temple and I can feel his smile there. “Yes,” he says. “But they can truly thrive with a light amount of care. And they’re perfect for beginners.”
My fingers brush along the metal table as I inspect each plant, letting myself see the small variations among them.
“Do any speak to you?” he asks.
I hum as I point to one in the direct center of the table. “That one.”
Bram reaches past me and plucks the plant off the table. It has a single paddle with deep purple coloration. It is perhaps the size of my hand and is scattered with smaller spikes and then there are a few very sharp clusters that look sturdier.
“The small hairlike ones are called glochids,” he explains. “And these others—the ones that look like they can really do some damage—are spines. You would think the big guys would be harder to handle, but it’s the glochids that surprise you. They shed easily and get under the skin with little effort.”
“Like me,” I say again.
This time he laughs. “Exactly like you.”
Bram pushes the cart and grabs an extra bag of soil, which I imagine he just likes to have in abundance based on the tower of bags in his shed.
I loop my arm through his, and his chest falls in a sigh as I rest my arm on his biceps.
He doubles back for a snake plant and picks up some poinsettias for Sara’s mother before we loop back around to the pots and he tells me to pick out the one I like best. Of course I reach for the red one with the gold stars while Bram gets me a small watering can and mister.
I attempt to buy my own plant and pot, but Bram is adamant that this is a gift. “You will not rob me of the honor of buying Madelyn Kowalczk the first plant she will keep alive.”
And I let him, because it feels like the kind of thing your boyfriend does for you and just for today, I’d like to think that Bram Loe being my boyfriend is a very real possibility.
Bram loads up the truck while I take the cart back inside.
