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“C’mon, c’mon, c;mon, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll do anything! Just, don’t look like that!”
Sublime turned the plate, and by extension the pot and the plant inside it. She scooted it just a little left, then back to the right. She pushed it just a little further into the yellow nimbus of sunlight, then pulled it back half as far. She squirmed in her chair, legs rubbing and shifting ceaselessly. Pacing was an outlet long denied her, but the body never forgot. Without it she could only worry more. She touched one downturned stem, lightly tracing her fingers along sharp little yellowed numbs draining to brown.
“You can see all your friends outside,” she cooed to it. “I think it’s too cold for you to go see them, but they’re all right there. You just have to perk up and look. They’ll be happy to see you. You wouldn’t want to let them down would you?”
She wasn’t lying. The street her family lived on was lined with windowboxes of all sorts. The season was past for a lot of blooms, but healthy greenery still persisted. Sublime scooted the plate closer and even lifted it a bit so the plant could get a better look. She was craning at the edge of her balance and very nearly dropped herself, the plant, or both when the intercom buzzer blared.
From the living room, “Who could that-?”
“I’ve got it, Mom!” Sublime set the plate down and unlocked her wheels, turning out of her room and scooting down the hall despite having her own speaker station beside her bed. Her chair’s footplates gouged two more dings in the plaster in her haste.
Before keying in the speaker Sublime touched her face, hair, shirt and skirt. She squared her shoulders, raised her chin, and fought down a sudden blush. She took two deep breaths, taken aback by how intense the reaction was. This was all so new. It’s also the first time she’s been to your home. A little voice in her head reminded her. Sublime thought something very unladylike in response when she realized the voice was right! What had she been thinking? She hadn’t. She’d been panicking. Too late to deal with that now. She would rise above. She was Sublime.
She keyed the intercom. “Hello?”
“So this is what it’s like from the other side,” that wonderfully sassy drawl came cleanly through the speaker.
Sublime checked herself again before turning on the camera, even though it was only one way. One large blue eye was being fishbowled on the small screen above the speaker. Sublime giggled without an audience before opening the intercom again. “Thanks for coming. I know I was a little…” she gestured for the blind.
The eye retreated as Chloé settled back into a cross-armed slouch, belied only by the upturned smirk across her lips. “Isn’t that what we’re for? Being a little, or in my case a lot? Though I wouldn’t mind being let in. I may be able to stand, but I can’t stand it for long.”
Belligerence tinged with hope danced in those blue eyes. Chloé’s smirk grew but her fingertips shifted unnecessarily. Sublime caught this all and drank it up. It was like having a secret code only she knew. That code let her into Chloé’s life in ways no one else had managed. Only she had managed it. Only she was Sublime. Buoyed up by that little reminder, Sublime keyed open the door. “Far be it from me to abuse a dancer’s feet.”
The door opened and Chloé swept in, a force of motion, light, and scent. Her yellow jacket was paired with a baby blue skirt -Sublime squeed internally-. She nimbly maneuvered the closing door and Sublime’s chair to deliver la bisé without missing a beat. Sublime squeed harder, a small squeak even got out.
There was a victorious flash in those blue eyes before Chloé swept her gaze along the entry hall, the pictures, anywhere but Sublime, “So, what is this mystery emergency?”
Storm and retreat like the fall of waves. The thought scampered across Sublime’s consciousness even as the pressing anxiety of failure charged in its wake. Yet for all the very real pain her failure was causing her she suddenly felt embarrassed. She blurted out, “Come see!” and spun to wheel herself back to her room.
Speed, movement, like running; it helped block out the extraneous thoughts. Sublime zipped back to her room, leaving Chloe to follow. She pulled up in front of her desk and her shame, taking the opportunity to turn the plate once more, and even leaning on one arm to reach and tug the curtain back. Perhaps more light would help.
Chloe followed slower than Sublime expected. Instead of a golden presence over her shoulder Sublime felt absence. She twisted in her chair to look back at the door just in time to see not a rush of motion, but something akin to caution. One step then another brought Chloe into the frame of the doorway. Her tread was silent, and conjured images of the ballet dancers Sublime had been looking up since she met Chloé. Chloé’s gaze darted around the room, too quick to be absorbing or judging. It came back to Sublime and a narrowed expression relaxed. Her weight shifted from one foot to the other, hip canted. Her eyes slid past Sublime to the drooping failure on her desk.
“A plant?” Confusion wrapped the words.
Sublime had been agonizing in the seconds the entire display took. If you made sudden movements you might startle a doe. When Chloé’s question permitted movement a dam broke. Sublime spun back around to face it again. “Yes! A Plant. The plant. Biology class,” she fussed fruitlessly with the pot. “I picked this one. We’re supposed to take care of them for a week, only a week! Look at it! I don’t know what to do. I named her, and I talk to her. I water her. I even gave her a pretty new pot I thought she would like. This has always worked before!”
Sublime’s voice rose in pitch as the magnitude of her failure reared itself again. She was killing something. Was there any failure worse than that? The truth spun in her brain like a blender. Unintended, she began to rub one of the plant’s stems between two fingers; back and forth.
“Ah yes… biology…” Chloé’s voice was closer now, just behind her. “I took it in England over the summer, a very advance– Oh who am I kidding. I vaguely remember science happening around me while I was studying the latest Spring satchel trends last year.”
Her voice was closer. Leaning over Sublime’s shoulder. The chemical rush of her perfumes assaulted Sublime’s nose even as the pressure of one hand on the back of Sublime’s chair registered. The indirect contact, entwining with Sublime’s means of mobility and balance, was as personal to her as a hand on someone else’s leg might be. Her abdomen clenched in reaction to the mixed reactions it brought up, but she didn’t have time to sort them. Chloé’s other arm extended and those slender fingers enclosed Sublime’s. Pressure pulled not harshly but insistantly, detaching Sublime from the stem.
“It’s still green, that’s good right? Tell me about it. Why did you pick this one?”
Sublime swallowed, still desperate and yet also grateful. The distracting and the overwhelming collapsed down into a point of focus. “She’s a-a Christmas Cactus. Scientific name: Schlumbergera.”
“Maybe it’s just Schlumbering then?”
Sublime straightened in her seat and Chloé let go of her hand after a single squeeze. A nerve-fraught laugh escaped Sublime’s lips. “No. The name was to honor a French cactus enthusiast Frédéric Schlumberger. Charles Lemaire was the one who discovered it though. There was also another Frederick Schlumberger, who was Belgian, but he’s not the one it’s named after.”
Sublime noticed Chloé was on her phone and her words trailed off. As soon as they did however, Chloé glanced up. “At least it’s not named Hamberger. Why did you pick this one though?”
Chloé squinted accusingly at the malingering flora.
The new question prodded Sublime’s flagging spirit. “She’s… She was pretty? She has these little thorns, but look at how strong her limbs are. She’d been pushed to the back and caught my eye. There weren’t any others like her there. She was the only cactus.”
Chloé was back in her phone again, finger swiping at break neck speed. Her eyes didn’t come up this time. “She? How do you know it’s a girl cactus?”
Sublime bit back a sudden fit of pique. “I named her, that’s how.”
Rapid fire. “What’s her name?”
Should have seen that coming. The little voice in her head jeered while Sublime’s position dawned on her. Pique turned into embarrassment. It was Sublime’s turn to avert her eyes as she mumbled. “C-l-é”
“Sublime, darling, I’m multitasking here. Please, speak up.”
Pique returned. This would get attention. “Chloé.”
“What?”
“I named her Chloé.”
Two more taps, a swipe, and a tap, then it did get attention but not how Sublime was expecting. Chloé smiled frustratingly sweetly, clasping the phone in both hands. “Oh that’s adorable! Don’t worry we’ll get her fixed up in no time.”
In her current state Sublime felt cheated. She wanted to pout but she wouldn’t. Wait- She could, with Chloe, couldn’t she? Wasn’t that the point? Ingrained habits died hard but she fought them. They were something she wanted to kill. Sublime crossed her arms and slouched back in her chair. “I’ve been trying! Normally this works. I’ve never had any problems with a plant before now.”
Chloé raised one finger and spoke with a haughty grin, “Ah, but you’ve never taken care of a Chloé before now. We’re picky.”
Sublime dared let herself stay a little grumpy. “So, what would you suggest?”
Chloé waved that hand, “I have absolutely no idea. You’re the clever one. I ordered what we need though.”
Curiosity was far stronger than grumpiness for Sublime. She scooted upright again. “What do we need?”
Chloé waggled her phone. “I said I have no idea. I just ordered everything. Express Delivery.”
“Everything?”
“Everything they had. See for yourself.” Chloé handed off her phone to Sublime, showing a receipt for…
Sublime scrambled at the phone and then for a piece of paper and pencil. She began writing, writing, writing. The list was frighteningly long. Halfway through she mumbled. “We don’t have room for all this…”
Chloé had perched on the edge of Sublime’s desk, “Then give whatever to the school or something. That’d be just like you, the exceptional benefactor. Keep my name out of it or they won’t accept it.”
That was a fight for another day. Sublime’s pencil sketched frantically across paper. Soon she had a full list and could hand back the phone. Now she had to figure out what most of this was for and if or how it might be of any help. She scooted the plant aside and pulled her laptop in front of her even while her eyes went down the list, organizing what seemed similar in her head. Fingers tapped on keys, she opened tab after tab, articles, instructions, videos. She soaked it up from multiple sources at a time. Soon she was crossing off items on the list, things she wouldn’t need. Things she might.
There was so much to learn.
Somewhere in the middle of it Sublime had a realization that made her feel foolish. Of course there was a lot to learn. She’d treated plants the same way she’d treated walking the first half of her life. You just did the obvious and it all worked out. A positive attitude and kindness made everything work smoother, but that’s all it took. She’d learned the hard way how much went into walking. It only stood to reason that much went into everything, you just didn’t always see it. Her mind tried to wander to other things. Studying- you just read and remember, was there more to it? Music- you just play the notes. Was it harder? So much seemed easy. Was it really or had she just taken it for granted because it worked for her?
Just do it was a mantra her mother repeated and Sublime has absorbed. But what if it doesn’t work? Then you were a failure. There was no inbetween. What if you don’t know how? What if the way you were taught doesn’t work for you anymore?
Sublime eased herself in her chair, flexing her thigh muscles.
The thought was tucked away, out of danger from the deluge of information she was still digesting. It was her father’s voice calling to her that dragged her up out of the waters herself.
“Honey? There’s some men on the intercom…”
Sublime blinked.
She straightened up. Her back hurt unexpectedly. She looked around, equations about acidity levels fading from her mind’s eye.
“Probably the delivery drivers.” Chloé’s voice, closer, deadpan.
Sublime eeped and twisted in her seat. Chloé was reclining on her side, stretched out across the length of Sublime’s bed. She was propped up on one elbow, phone in hand. A mischievous smile plucked at her lips when Sublime laid eyes on her.
“Oh, and I’m still here too.” she teased.
Sublime’s eyes widened. Her peripherals helpfully supplied how far the sunlight had shifted on her desktop. She eeped again, scooted the plant fully out of the remaining light, undid her brake, spun in place, and let out a ‘Sorry!’ over her shoulder as she wheeled herself out and down the hallway to the door.
What followed was a hectic but not too difficult haggling session. The truck hadn’t been loaded with deference to the specific things Sublime wanted, and what she wanted compromised an extremely small portion of what was there. It could go to the school, if the school accepted, and was open, which they weren’t on a Sunday. She could tell by the look on the driver’s face that if she cajoled him he’d work something out for the girl in a wheelchair. That wasn’t who she was though. What broke the stalemate was who Chloé was. She sauntered up to the knot at the doorway, chemical aura and golden nimbus in full effect. Money made finding Sublime’s items and a second delivery, time to be worked out between the garden center and the school, quite manageable. The driver even brought what Sublime wanted into her room (under the confused gaze of her father and the calculating gaze of her mother of course) Once the clamour died down and Sublime had made the proper apologies and promises to her parents -during which Chloe had remained diligently across the room examining a very boring corner- She was back at her desk with what she hoped was the answers around her.
Chloé was peering with poorly disguised curiosity at the assemblage, bent down with hands on her knees. “So, this will work?”
Sublime pulled the other Chloé closer to her. “I hope so. It’s the most likely culprit. There’s something called transplant shock, which moving it to the new pot might have done. I’ve also been overwatering it. I didn’t think I was using that much water but it really doesn’t need much as all.”
Chloé pointed out, “But you’ve got a new pot here. Didn’t you just say…?”
Sublime nodded, the comfort of knowledge like a balm over her previously burnt out nerves. “If I’ve watered it too much though, It’s best to swap to a new, dry pot, once we air out the roots a bit and prune away any rot, it’ll be more comfy. It’s better than sticking it back in a wet pot. Hand me that trowel please.”
Chloe reached, then paused.
Sublime remembered. “The little shovel.”
Still, Chloé’s hand hovered between three tools. Sublime let it. Chloé picked. Sublime kept her smile down.
“Thank you.”
Sublime tipped the pot on its side and slid the trowel around the inside edge in a clean motion. Trowel down, she grasped the cactus low and gave it a little wiggle before gently drawing the ball free. Peas of soil fell free, mostly staying on the plate. Sublime tipped the plant upright again and let it rest on the plate as she set the pot aside -the damp ring inside the pot was something she now noticed as a sign of her previous carelessness.
Beside her Chloé sucked in a breath. “Your fingers!”
Sublime focused on her hands long enough to notice the little red scratches from the cactus’s barbs under the dirt smudges. “I’ve had worse. Hand me clippers…. They look like scissors.”
Chloé sulked, “I know what clippers are. You use clippers on hair. Here, and these too. I bought you pretty gloves, why didn’t you use them?”
Sublime was too embarrassed to say ‘I forgot’ out loud, so she hid in the task at hand. She pulled the work gloves Chloé handed her on and began examining the cactus’s root system. A score of diagrams and example images hovered in her mind as she worked. She was lucky, it didn't look like any really bad rot had taken hold yet. She snipped a few tiny feeders just in case, and loosened the soil around the other roots to allow it to air out better.
Satisfied, she scooted the plate back, bumping aside more rogue dirt clods. “Now the new pot and some soil to make the bed.”
Chloe handed her the pot but paused after. Sublime’s memory supplied the problem even before her eyes followed Chloé’s gaze. The 15 kilo bag lay flat on the floor, vibrant flower packaging wrinkled and smudged from the unavoidable accumulation in any garden depot.
Sublime came to her rescue. “I’ll get it. Hold on,” She unlocked her wheels. “I can just climb down-”
Chloé made a sound like a strangled cat and jolted into action. She crouched, pushed the bag upright, held it from sagging with one hand as she picked up a handfork with the other all before Sublime had finished her turn.
Chloé aimed the tool like a weapon. “I can help!”
Sublime’s protest didn’t get a chance before Chloé stabbed the bag and tore the plastic with the blunt edge of the fork with a violence that felt personal. She pulled at the tear, widening it, and shoved her hand in, pulling out a handful of rich black earth.
“See?!”
Naked pride and unfiltered desperation mingled so openly on those sculpted features. Sublime’s response was involuntary. Her hindbrain intermixed genuine affection with fanciful half formed notions of kisses amid flowerbeds, parks, or the dirt-scatted hardwood of this very bedroom.
The widening of those sapphire blue eyes wasn’t the next step in a fantasy though. It was a dawning realization. Chloé starred in growing horror at what she was holding. “Oh. Ew. Ew. Ew ewewewewew!”
Chloé began hoping from foot to foot. She dropped the fork, dancing in place. Crumbs of soil began to roll off the mound in her hand.
Sublime snatched the new pot from her desk and held it out. “Here! Here!”
Chloé dumped the soil into it, mostly succeeding, her expression grateful for an instant before the panic returned. She cradled the offending hand, opposite hand gripping her wrist like a burn victim. She cast about again, hair whipping dangerously close to doom in her haste.
“Down the hall, next door on the right!”
Trailing a terrified, “Eeeeeeeeeeeeee,“ Chloé fled.
Sublime’s heart went with her. How could she not have a crush on that?
By the time Chloé returned Sublime had made a new bed for the cactus and aerated the soil so that it too would dry a bit from its default. She’d also cleaned up her desk as best she could. The rest was waiting a bit until the soil dried enough to replant cactus-Chloé.
Sublime was gently petting one of the stalks and whispering to the plant. She didn’t stop just because she was seen. “-nd don’t worry. This time I will give you the space you need. Not too much water, not too much of the spotlight. We’ll be good friends and you’ll get big and strong, right?"
Sublime wondered what her flowers would look like. It’d be a few months before she bloomed. Sublime could be patient. It would be longer if she’d picked a more traditional route. She just had to be sure no one whisked her away in the near future.
Beside her, Chloé’s voice had regained its poise. “I saw Five in One in your bathroom.”
Sublime kept her eyes on the little cactus, tracing a dirty fingertip over one spine. “It’s easier most days. Showers can be exhausting, especially after a workout.”
“Ugh.” Chloé mocked a swoon against Sublime’s chair. “I was hoping it was your dad’s… or your mom’s. I did just take you to an abhorrently expensive spa, didn’t I?”
Sublime smiled at the memory. “You did.”
“And you didn’t learn anything at all, Miss Smarty Pants?”
Sublime turned to look up at her. “I learned you look good in a towel.”
Shock and color raced across Chloé’s tanned features. Color one by a nose. She scoffed, averting her eyes and fidgeting.
Sublime saved her. “Thank you.”
Bafflement brought those eyes back, “You’re welcome of course… just to be clear, what amazing thing did I do again? The Spa?”
Sublime gestured to the obvious. “This. Helping. I normally just worry myself into a feedback loop then work out until I pass out to stop it.”
“Oh.” Chloé’s features took on an unaccustomed seriousness. “I- well- that’s just what… fffriendsss do, right?” Her voice rose at the end in genuine uncertainty.
Sublime was halfway into reaching up to climb Chloé for a vicious hug when she realized her state and stopped short. She held up her hands and waved them a little in the air. Their touch would not be appreciated as is; not outside of Sublime’s daydreams at least.
Chloé reached for one of her hands but stopped short too. Her fingers circled Sublime’s on the other side of an invisible force field. “Shouldn’t we… clean you up too?”
Sublime shook her head, looking back to the cactus where she sat. “Not until she’s properly seated in her new home, a couple hours yet.”
Chloé laid a hand on Sublime’s shoulder, and it felt like a hundred hugs. She leaned in again, peering at the exposed, drying roots. “She’ll be okay then?”
Sublime hummed, “Fresh environment, proper care. I think she’ll bounce back and be exceptional.”