Page 58 of So This Is War
“It’s fine,” I say, shutting the door behind me.Compose yourself, Posey. Be cool. Steady.
“Sorry about the loss. Also, saw that you got in a brawl. Did you get hurt?”
“No.” I set down my keys and wallet on my console table, then take off my shoes. “Vlad punched me in my padding, but I got him in the face.”
“So he’s the one who got hurt?”
“That seems to always be the case.” I move over toward her and glance down at the placemat. The stain is now larger than it was before, spread out and only partially faded. I don’t believe she’s made it better but worse.
“Yeah, don’t look at that,” she says as she takes the placemat away and sets it on her lap. “I was trying to go for a non-toxic chemical route, but it seems that won’t do the trick. I’ll do more research and see how to remove this. In the meantime, please direct your attention to the corner of the room to meet your new fiddle leaf fig tree.”
Oh, fuck yeah.
The time has come.
Dreams are coming true after a shit of a day.
Come to Papa . . .
I turn toward the corner of the living room, expecting to see a well-nourished, thriving fiddle leaf fig, but to my dismay, a small pot sits on the floor with three leaves sprouting from it instead.
My brow pinches together. “What’s that?”
“I know what you must be thinking.” She gets off her stool and walks over to the plant. “It’s small now, but with lots of love and devotion to its growth, this fiddle leaf fig will soon be a blooming fiend taking over this very space.”
Those three leaves will need a lot more than some love and devotion.
She got me the Charlie Brown version of a fiddle leaf fig tree, not the monstrous, girthy log of a tree I expected.
“It’s incredibly small,” I say. “Especially for the space. I was thinking of something that would be bigger, more . . . mature.”
“And I thought that too, but Cahutta at the nursery said it would feel more satisfying to build a connection with a plant at such a young stage in its journey and watch it flourish throughout its life and yours.”
“Cahutta?” I ask with a quirked brow.
“Yes, he was amazing. I spent about an hour and a half just walking through the nursery with him, talking about different plants. He offered to meet up with me later to go over the intricacies of taking care of a fiddle leaf fig, but I told him I was busy. Gave him my number, though, so he could call later and fill me in.”
Well, Cahutta is fucking dead.
“Call later? Wylie, you realize he was hitting on you, right?”
She pauses and thinks about it. “God, you think so?”
“Uh, yeah. Who the fuck spends that much time talking about a plant?”
“I just thought he was being nice. Huh.” She taps her chin. “Well, I hope he was. This girl could use a wild night.” She clears her throat and picks up the minuscule plant. I swear, it’s smaller than Sherman. And here I was, about to brag about my giant tree in my apartment, and this is what I have to work with? Christ. “I think we should set him on the coffee table for now. Don’t need him getting trampled.”
“Yeah, don’t want that,” I say while grabbing the back of my neck. What a disappointment.
And to add salt to the wound, apparently, she’s fishing for a wild night.
Step into my bedroom, and I’ll give you exactly what you’re looking for.
“I’m sorry it’s not bigger. I can see your disappointment. I can go back and talk to Cahutta, let him know we’re looking for something more mature and not necessarily a human/plant bonding experience.”
“Nope, this works,” I say, not wanting her to go back to that nursery. Fucking Cahutta. Last thing I need is for her to speak to some romanticizing plant man who she brings back to her nanny hole.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind going back.”
