Special Episode: Gem Plants
This episode is part of a larger story, Soft Touch. If you haven’t yet, you can go back and read it from the beginning right here.
Upstairs in the house, two hands gently place a potted plant right beside the window.
“I’m moving the ruby plant here, okay, Aiden?” calls a voice from inside. “I just want to see if it does better in the sunlight. Oh - the blue butterfly that’s always around the malachite tree is back! Aw, man - I scared it away from the window! I’ve been trying to get a picture of it.”
“We can try again later. Right now we need to go, Keane, or we’ll both be late for work!”
“I’m coming! Hey, maybe one day we can put the ruby tree beside the malachite tree in the garden. Passion, protection - should we have some more? Should you make me some more magic plants?”
“One thing at a time, Linden,” answers the other voice, warm with laughter.
The voices trail off, followed by the eventual thump of a door gently closing.
The blue butterfly clings to the underside of a tender green branch. The leaves of the strange, singing sapling chime softly all around. Protected in their cool shade, the butterfly slowly, lazily flaps its delicate wings. Eventually the breeze nudges it free, and it tumbles upwards into the air, caught on the current of wind until it steadies itself.
Lifted into the sunlit sky, the butterfly circles around the garden for a little bit. The furry grey cat sprawled out on a window sill watches, tail flicking from side to side. Across the garden, a robin hops up onto the edge of her nest, perched on the moss and leaves she carefully plaited together.
She preens her soft brown feathers in the gentle quiet of the old garden. The wilderness here is welcoming. The lush long grass, the tiny white flowers in the moss on the walls, the juicy berries growing in vivid dots amidst the leaves. In the very early morning, the place fills with a small sea of soft white fog, which lights up and glows when the sunlight hits it.
It’s a quiet paradise. The robin found it right when she needed to build a nest, attracted by the unusual chiming music she heard.
The butterfly returns to the singing sapling for another few minutes, then rises high up into the air and flutters off.
The grey cat springs to her feet as the robin soars past the window. The robin doesn’t fail to notice the watchful feline eyes, and she quickly veers off-course to land on a tree branch that grows right into the house through a window on the second floor.
The room inside is quiet and empty. After a moment, the robin hops further down the branch to peek in at it.
A strange, small red plant is growing in a pot just inside the window, placed within a shaft of golden sunlight. But the little potted tree seems to gather silky darkness to itself, aside from its faintly glowing red fruits.
The robin samples one of the tiny scarlet fruits. Finding it very much to her liking, she helps herself to two more before a sudden indignant cheeping from a cardboard box deeper in the room startles her away.
The robin sets off flying north, and the blue butterfly glides south.
The butterfly crosses over a stretch of forest road, descending at the promising sight of some orange-gold flowers growing along the treeline. A young fox, slowly meandering his way across the dark pavement, looks up with interest, then playfully bounds after the butterfly, taking swipes at it with his paws.
The harassed butterfly wings its way towards the flowers, with the fox in hot pursuit. The fox tumbles out of the road and into the golden flowers, right as a car goes speeding past so quickly that all of the flowers go briefly horizontal in the resulting rush of wind. The fox freezes in the flowerbed, trembling in alarm, but he was well out of the way of the tires.
The butterfly draws some nectar from the flowers, then takes off again.
The robin is happy to be stretching her wings, today. The red fruit has filled her little body with a small, warm glow that she carries in her breast. She lets it guide her. She soars through the sunshine high above the rolling fields for miles and miles, then swoops lower to investigate a cluster of noise and people.
It’s a very small Renaissance fair, and the girl sitting off to one side, beneath the sheltering shade of an overgrown tree, is dressed as a fairy.
Eleanor is beyond nervous about being here. She can’t believe she let Margo talk her into this.
She’s always wanted to go to one of these, but she felt like it would be awkward if no one there could talk to her. Especially given the fact that Margo, who’s as extroverted as Eleanor is introverted, tends to make ten new friends at every event, and sometimes that means Eleanor ends up left on her own for a while.
Like now. And it’s even more awkward to end up sitting all by yourself, talking to no one and obviously self-conscious, when you’re in a full-on costume. She wishes she hadn’t worn the wings, at least. She spent so long lovingly making them, but now she feels ridiculous.
She anxiously adjusts the flower crown over her fairy ears, regretting everything. She loves Margo, and she knows she doesn’t mean to leave her all by herself. But it’s lonely to sit here like this, on the edge of everything, watching the silent landscape of the event. All the laughing faces, the people eagerly lining up for things, couples holding hands as they weave through the crowd.
A flash of bright rusty orange color moves across Eleanor’s vision. She turns her head to watch a beautiful little robin coast past. It arcs through the food stands and archery stations, past the tavern set-up, to -
A knight, leaning back against one of the stone walls of the ax-throwing area. Eleanor takes in an eyeful of cinnamon-brown skin, glinting black leather brigandine, and soft, melting eyes with irises in a deep shade of mahogany. Framed in dark lashes, set above a strong, arched nose, a firm and full mouth.
His costume is really good, although she can see a tiny bit of the collar of his t-shirt beneath. Dorky little mistake. No one fixed it for him.
Eleanor’s heartbeat stops, then flutters wildly, then rushes into a new, high-speed tempo.
The robin descends right beside the knight to peck at something in the grass. He looks down at it in surprise, startled to see it land so close. He nudges one of his friends and points to it, laughingly saying something.
Eleanor quickly breaks her gaze away from him, blushing deeply, fidgeting with the hem of her fairy dress. Her racing heartbeat seems to vibrate her entire body.
She glances up and spots Margo trying to catch her eye from one of the archery stands.
You okay over there? Margo signs at her, wincing apologetically. Sorry, I’m coming back soon! I just met someone who -
Look, Eleanor signs back, with a subtle, meaningful nod at the knight. The one with the black leather over the chainmail. With the pretty eyes.
Margo turns and leans around the new friend she just made, scanning the crowd until she spots him. Her mouth drops open in delight when she sees how handsome he is.
Go talk to him! she signs urgently.
Oh my god, no! How am I supposed to do that? Eleanor blushes even deeper, making a frustrated face at Margo. Even if I could - he’s too cute. I can’t.
She steals a glance at the knight again as she signs this last part, then does a sharp double-take.
He’s looking right at her.
She realizes after a moment that the robin has flown over to where she’s sitting. It’s picking around in the grass nearby, not a foot away from the tip of her fairy wing. His eyes must have followed it right to her.
With a jolt in her heart, she sees that he’s smiling shyly, meeting her eyes through the crowd.
I think you’re cute, too, he signs to her, then blushes a little.
Eleanor freezes, staring at him with enormous eyes.
I like your wings, he adds.
It’s strangely funny and sweet to see the hands of the powerful knight do the gentle flapping motion and little palm tap to sign wings. Eleanor feels a soft giggle escape her mouth, and she draws in her shoulders nervously, her heart crashing around her chest.
I made them, she signs back, without thinking. So much glitter in my hair.
Worth it, he answers, then taps the little leather pouch attached to his belt. I made this. There’s not a lot of money in there, but - I’ve got enough if you want to do a round of archery together?
Eleanor stares back in shy silence at him, not sure what to do.
He’s still smiling tentatively at her, searching her face with his warm, expressive eyes.
Okay, she answers, and slips to her feet.
The knight smiles, then starts weaving his way through the crowd towards her.
The robin lightly lifts off, climbing into the skies again. She swoops in a high circle above the fair, then sets off over the forest, gliding through the sunlight.
The blue butterfly hasn’t gone nearly as far. It’s been tumbled across the tops of the flowers, pushed around on the breeze, and now it’s seeking some sheltered place to rest for a moment. It goes fluttering high over the heads of two girls seated on the grass behind a house, curled in towards each other.
“Hey, we can’t get caught,” Alexandria is whispering, as Chloe softly kisses her neck. But she doesn’t stop her, and she doesn’t open her eyes or let go of her grip on Chloe’s waist. “If my dad finds out about this before I can talk to him, he won’t understand, he might freak out, and - I - I’m just waiting for the right moment, okay? Maybe if he knows you better, by the time I tell him - if he already likes you, if he knows you’re - respectable, and-”
Chloe lets out a snort of laughter, and Alexandria adjusts - “Okay, if we can trick him into thinking you’re respectable-”
“Just tell him I’m the handsomest butch you know, he’ll understand. Although you’re gonna give me a run for my money, the way you’ve been dressing lately. Should I not be encouraging this, come to think of it? Would hate to lose my crown...”
“Chloe!” Alexandria giggle-wails.
“No, I know,” Chloe murmurs against her neck, spilling goosebumps through her with the heat of her breath. “We’ll be careful.”
“Is this being careful?” Alexandria laughs, as Chloe begins to slip a hand up her shirt.
“Ugh, but it’s hard,” Chloe fake-sobs, drawing another laugh from Alexandria.
“For me, too,” she admits, blushing hard, just as hard as she did the first time she caught sight of Chloe.
Sitting behind her drum set at her cousin’s garage, her cheeks red, her short hair slicked with sweat, her muscled arms in swift movement. Perfectly on the beat.
Alexandria’s heart had nearly stopped, and then it actually did when Chloe glanced up and saw that one of her cousin’s neighbors was standing on the sidewalk staring at her.
Alexandria’s panicked self had made it about halfway down the block at a speed walk before Chloe caught up to her, panting, tugging a hoodie on over her tank top.
“Hey!” she’d called, and Alexandria had turned around to find a beautiful, fascinated pair of eyes on her.
“What’s going on?” was all Alexandria could find to say.
Chloe had broken into a mischievous smile, her eyes glittering.
“I dunno,” she’d answered, still panting. “Why don’t you tell me?”
That was in the fall, and Alexandria still couldn’t say how they went from there to here, sneaking off yet again to be alone together in the tall grass behind the house, more stolen breathless moments in the summer heat.
Chloe reluctantly starts to take her hand out from under Alexandria’s t-shirt, and Alexandria catches her hand through the fabric, stopping her. Chloe blinks in surprise, then grins mischievously. Alexandria laughs again, feeling helpless.
She leans in to kiss Chloe, then gasps and sits bolt upright, startling Chloe back from her.
“Oh-” She presses a hand over her racing heart, her shoulders sinking in relief. “God, I saw something out of the corner of my eye and I thought - but it was just a butterfly.”
Chloe turns to look at the blue butterfly fluttering around overhead, searching for a place to rest in the eaves of the house.
“It’s a Silvery Blue, I think.” Chloe pulls her snapback back on, then gets to her feet for a better look, her interested eyes following the movement of the butterfly. “Beautiful. I’ve never seen one of these in your yard before. Strange that it’s here. They usually prefer a meadow or a prairie, or a nice open field. Must be getting blown around by the wind.”
“You and your weird obsession with bugs,” Alexandria laughs adoringly. “This is why you’re always so dirty, you know, crawling around looking for-”
Alexandria breaks off and freezes as her dad steps around the side of the house.
But he looks at them with a mild expression on his face. Chloe is standing up a foot or so away from Alexandria with her hands stuffed in the pockets of her Carhartts, and Alexandria is still seated on the grass. There’s nothing suspicious about any of it.
Especially because Chloe, with her usual, unshakeable calm, says to Alexandria’s dad -
“You’ve got a Silvery Blue in your yard, Mr. Gordon. Up there, look.”
As if it’s the only thing happening out here at the moment.
He looks up with interest, just in time to see the butterfly climb back into the air. The three of them watch it perch on a few flowers before it alights and takes to the sky again.
The butterfly rides a sweet current of gentle breeze, lets the wind take it to wherever it’ll end up next.
The robin has gone far, and now come back a long way, too. It glides low over the roofs of some houses, which are gilded softly in the fading sunlight. Dusk is gathering, and the robin alights on a tree branch, hoping to find some water.
In the low, brick apartment building behind the tree, a man slides up a window on the second floor. He gasps as the robin streaks right past, startled into flight by the scraping of the window. The man instinctively jerks out of the way, and the cup of coffee in his hand tilts over, spilling its entire contents right out of the window.
He presses a hand over his mouth, then leans out to make sure the coffee didn’t hit anyone on the street. His eyes widen as soon as he gets a look.
Down on the sidewalk, Jude is staring at his own hands, trying to understand what just happened. He was about to push open the door of his building, and then a bunch of coffee fell on his head. That’s what it felt like, anyways, although it seems improbable.
With the way his day is going, though, with the way everything is going, this might as well happen. He lets out a tired breath, wondering if it’s even worth seeking out an explanation, or if the universe is just literally throwing things at him now.
“Oh, shit,” comes a voice from above him, sounding mortified. “I’m so sorry!”
Jude swipes the coffee out of his eyes and onto his sleeve, then looks up. He freezes to the spot, staring upwards, struggling to understand.
The hot guy who lives on the second floor is leaning out of his window with an empty coffee cup in his hand, looking like he wants to die from embarrassment.
“Come up here!” he calls, and vanishes from the window.
Jude stands there frozen, then rushes for the door and wrenches it open. He realizes about halfway up the stairs that he needs to calm the fuck down, but he’s trembling inside. This guy is so out of his league that Jude hasn’t even attempted to say one word to him, the whole time they’ve lived here. In his head, he’s concocted all kinds of different plans, dreamed of different scenarios that could place them alone together. He even thought about letting his cat out on the second-floor hallway and banging on the guy’s door like he needs help to catch her.
And now suddenly, one of those scenarios is - kind of happening - although he’s covered in coffee, and he probably looks exhausted and he wishes he could shower and also change his clothes and maybe say goodbye to his cat in case his heart actually does explode.
He panics at the top of the second-floor stairwell and gives serious consideration to bolting upstairs instead. But that would make things weird. He’d have to move out, probably - should he just move anyways? This is too much -
The hot guy’s door swings open, and he leans out, catching sight of Jude in the hallway.
“God!” he sputters, his cheeks burning. “That bird nearly flew right into my face, and then my coffee just - here, come here, I have some stuff that might get that out of your clothes.”
Jude’s brain registered only ‘out of’ and ‘your clothes’, but that’s enough to send him down the hallway towards the guy, then into his apartment, so - it’s fine.
“My name’s Asher, what’s yours?” the hot guy asks, then holds out a hand with his palm facing up.
Jude stares blankly down at it, not sure what he’s looking for. A weird handshake? A - hand hold? God, he’s so damn good-looking. Jude is nearly panting with enthusiasm, and frozen with terror inside. No, no, no, he’s gonna fuck this up, and he’s been so miserable, this is the first break he’s caught in ages -
“Oh, god, are you okay?” Asher asks, obviously concerned. “I can’t believe I spilled my coffee exactly on you, from that height! What are the odds of that?”
“Ah - pretty high, actually, knowing my luck,” Jude answers without thinking.
Asher laughs, and something breathless and hopeful stirs in Jude’s chest.
“Ugh, if the window didn’t stick on the way up I would’ve had my coffee with both hands! I did tell the maintenance guy about that issue.”
“He never fixes anything,” Jude stammers, struggling to pull himself together. “I’m actually not sure he knows how. Sometimes he looks at me like he’s hoping I’ll tell him how to do it.”
“I know, but I think he’s sweet,” Asher laughs. “I have a serious soft spot for dummies. Just makes me melt when someone’s a real pathetic mess, I don’t know why. It’s an affliction I’m trying to get over, but my brain must just be wired wrong, or something.”
“Oh,” Jude manages weakly. “Cool. Sorry, but, um - what’s that for?”
He points to Asher’s outstretched hand, still waiting palm-up.
Asher raises an eyebrow, then nods at Jude’s stained jacket. “Didn’t you want me to try to get the coffee out of that, or…?”
“Oh! Sure, I - yeah!” Jude is running out of breath, trying to get his bag over his head and his jacket off as quickly as possible. The result is that both his bag and his jacket crash to the ground. “But also, don't worry about it. About the coffee getting on me, I mean!”
He sweeps down to grab his stuff, the flustered blush deepening across his nose and cheeks, then curses wildly when his bag opens and some pens and notebooks begin spilling out onto the floor.
“I’m saying it’s all good,” he goes on desperately, stuffing the pens back into the bag. And then, realizing that might mean he has to leave - “But you can try to get the coffee out, if you want! That’s - yeah, go ahead! I’m Jude, by the way, but pretty much everyone calls me Sticky.”
It strikes him at the very last second that he absolutely shouldn’t have added that last bit of information. He feels the realization visibly dawn over his face, in an expression of pure horror.
Asher’s eyebrows fly up. He stares blankly at Jude, leaning back against the couch, his lip caught between his teeth.
“There’s - there’s an explanation!” Jude rushes to add, wishing that he could die immediately, right now, as soon as possible. “Not a weird explanation! That’s been my nickname since I was like five, it was about grape juice, not, um - not - I’m sorry, don’t - don’t listen to me! Oh, Jesus, I shouldn’t have said - is it cool if I start over? Is that - a thing people can ask for? Can you forget about the Sticky thing?”
Asher stares at him for another long moment, then blushes deeply, his wide eyes lingering on Jude’s handsome, bewildered, mortified face.
“Oh, man,” Asher sighs helplessly, suddenly gripping the back of the couch very tight, melting back against it a little bit.
The robin is already long gone, dwindling out of sight in the twilight sky.
~~~~
At dusk, the blue butterfly descends back into the old garden. It slows down near the window with the branch growing through, then startles back as a robin hops out onto the branch with a glowing red berry of some kind in her beak.
Aware that she’s trespassing, the robin hastily swallows the fruit and sets off, winging her way across the garden, circling up to the heights of a tree growing just inside the garden wall. She perches on the rim of her nest, and the downy little chicks inside begin cheeping immediately, refreshed and hungry after their long nap.
The butterfly descends to the singing sapling, then settles down onto one of its slender, delicate branches to rest. It can’t think in the way that humans do, but it has some instinctive sense that the sapling will be a good and safe place to hide a cluster of eggs. The soft leaves have room for that. Sheltered, protective, nurturing. The butterfly began its own life in this sapling, after all. Emerged from both its egg and its cocoon, right here.
The robin, having eaten her fill of red fruit from the strange little tree upstairs, sets about feeding her chicks. She settles down among them when she’s done, then looks up tiredly as her mate comes coasting back to the nest.
Two of the babies are already sound asleep again - lulled by the soft chiming of the singing sapling - but one is still hungry, and struggles over to her father for some food. The robin had been too anxious and protective to let him do any feeding before, but lately she’s relieved to have his help.
Once all the chicks are dozing peacefully, he puffs himself up to sing a song to his wife, but she hops up to the edge of the nest before he can start. He watches her with curious eyes, then takes off after her when she glides down from the nest.
She leads her favorite songster to the window with the branch growing through, so he can see the strange little tree.
He hops forward with suspicious eyes, but after a moment he samples one of the glowing fruits hanging from the tiny branches.
Tasting magic, just like his mate, his chicks, the butterfly drowsing in the singing sapling below. Like many of the creatures in the garden, some of whom are just waking up to begin their nocturnal wanderings.
Crawling, flying, walking, climbing, and digging, the little illuminated spirits wander out of the garden and go off in their separate ways, quietly spreading out into the world.
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