“I’m looking for a long-lasting plant to give to a friend.”
She snaps her fingers, already walking away from the counter. “I have just the thing for you.”
She leads me to a row of shelves decorated with different perennials and house plants, all of which are adorned with bright butterflies either hooked on the leaves or dug into the soil. It’s actually perfect for a six-year-old.
Eileen picks up a plant with long, striped leaves. “The snake plant is a great choice if your friend doesn’t have a lot of gardening skills.”
Considering she forgets to brush her teeth half the time, I’d say that’s a great assessment of Zoe. Plus, she’ll love the name of the plant. For a moment, I think about what it would be like to watch her take care of it over the years, bringing it insects as if it was a truesnake that needed feeding instead of watering it. I’m sure I’d always find all sorts of things in the soil; objects or creatures she’d have wanted to share with her pet plant. I crack my thumb knuckle.
“It’s perfect.”
“Oh, and I could dye some of the leaves, so it looks more ethereal!”
“I think we’re good with the butterflies.”
She purses her lips like I have no taste but still nods and leads me to the register.
“So, how are you doing?” she asks as she taps on her old-school cash register. I have a feeling her prices are determined as randomly as the flowers that go into each bouquet.
“Okay.”
She looks up from her glasses, a brow lifted. “Really?”
This feels like a trick question. I don’t answer.
She takes my credit card, then starts arranging the gift packaging around the plant. To say her creativity extends to her gift wrapping would be an understatement. She’s meticulous with her work, too, so much so that I fear it will take an hour before I’m out of here. I’m not usually impatient, but Eli is waiting for me back home. Zoe is with Liz at Susan’s place tonight, so we’re going out. It feels strange, to have real dates only now that we know we barely have any time left. It’s making us both hungry for more.
“You know,” Eileen says as she cuts a piece of bedazzled sticky tape, “I didn’t have the best family life either, growing up.”
I stiffen. “Eileen…”
She glances up with so much steel, I stop myself. This is ashut up and listenlook if I’ve ever seen one.
“As I was saying,” she says with an overload of sass, “I didn’t have the best childhood.” Cut, fold, tape. “My father was… mean with my brothers and me. With my mother, too, although we rarely saw it.”
“I really don’t want to talk about this.”
“But I think you need to.”
I don’t know when I started listening to Ruth’s friend like she is my own mother, but her tone is so intimidating, I have no choice but to.
“My mother—God rest her soul—was a good woman, but she never did a single thing to protect us. She was always out late with friends, leaving us to fend for ourselves when my father got back home.”
I swallow.
“I never wanted anything more than to have a mother who would be there for me. I would’ve done anything for her to see us. I don’t think she even realized what was going on inside our home. I wanted a protector.”
“I wanted a protector, too,” I snap. Eileen isn’t pretending to wrap the plant anymore. Her hands are resting on the counter, as if she’s bracing herself.
“And you had one,” she says. “You have no idea what your mother did to protect you.”
“She stayed.”
“And didn’t you ever wonder why that is? That maybe her staying was her way to protect you?”
“I don’t see how remaining with him could’ve helped us.”
“But that’s the thing. You don’t know everything. In fact, I would bet you know less than the tip of the iceberg.” She tilts her head. “Even Ruth was kept in the dark on most things.”
