Toxic Blooms

“Hey, what’s up?” said Heather casually into her phone.

“I need you to come pick me up,”  said Barry on the other end of the line, sounding worried.

“I’m busy,” replied Heather.

“Busy doing what?” said Barry.

It was 9:32 at night, and Heather was lying on her couch, under a cozy blanket, with a large bowl of freshly popped popcorn in front of her. When Heather puts on her pajamas, she has no intention of leaving her home for anything, but her friend Barry sounded desperate.

“Busy doing stuff,” said Heather. “Why do you need me to pick you up? Something wrong with your car?”

“My legs aren’t working,” said Barry. “I was out on a jog and–and I don’t know what happened; they just stopped working.”

“Okay,” Heather said, sarcastically. “I’m going to go now–”

“Heather, please,” said Barry. “I’m being serious. I can’t walk. You’ve got to help me.” Heather thought for a moment, unsure of what to say next. “Heather?” said Barry.

“Yeah, I’m still here,” said Heather. “If you really can’t walk, why don’t you call an ambulance?”

“An ambulance?” said Barry. “Do you know how much that would cost? I don’t want to go to a hospital. You’re like ten minutes away; just pick me up and take me home. That’s all I need.”

Heather stopped to think for another moment. She took in a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and put her bowl of delicious popcorn down on her coffee table. Minutes later, Heather was driving slowly towards Barry’s apartment, looking from side to side, scanning the sidewalks. “Oh, I think I see you,” said Heather.

“I hope so,” said Barry over the speaker phone, “or there’s another person creeping through the neighborhood and I’m in trouble.”

“Very funny,” said Heather as she pulled over and stopped the car with her headlights washing over Barry. “Too bad your humor didn’t go with your legs.”

“Yeah, well, your lights are about to take out my eyes,” replied Barry, and Heather turned them off. She got out of the car and walked over to Barry, who was sitting on the sidewalk with his legs out, leaning his back against a tree. Heather stopped in front of Barry, and Barry said, “Thanks for coming.”

“I still half think you’re just screwing with me,” said Heather.

Barry stretched his hand out towards her and said, “Think whatever you want, but help me.”

Six months later, Heather was in front of Barry’s mother’s house, knocking on the front door. Barry’s mother opened the door and said, “Hey, honey,” before giving Heather a hug. “He’ll be so happy to see you.”

“What did he say when you told him I was coming over?” asked Heather.

Barry’s mother smiled mechanically and said, “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Heather stepped into the house, and under her breath, she said sarcastically, “I bet he’ll love it.” Barry’s mother walked past Heather and led the way to Barry’s room.

Barry’s mother knocked on Barry’s door and, without waiting for a response, started opening it slowly. “Hey, Bear. You have a visitor.”

“Tell them I’m sleeping,” said Barry. The television in his room was on, and the channel was showing a movie Heather remembered watching with Barry a couple of years before. But Barry wasn’t paying the television any attention, as he sat in a wheelchair, focused on something outside his bedroom window.

“But it’s Heather,” said Barry’s mother.

Barry looked over his shoulder, quickly. He turned his wheelchair around and said to Heather, “What are you doing here?”

Heather glanced at Barry’s mother and then back at Barry to say, “We haven’t talked in a while. I wanted to see you.”

Barry looked at his mother and said, “I bet.”

Barry’s mother clasped her hands together and said, “Well, I’ll just leave you two alone then.” She backed her way out of Barry’s room, closing the door with her exit, and Barry locked his eyes on Heather.

“I am happy to see you, Barry,” said Heather.

Barry looked down at his motionless legs, back up at Heather, and said, “There’s not much to see.”

Not sure what to say next, Heather’s eyes scanned the room for something to save the conversation. Her gaze landed on a box full of Barry’s old track and cross-country medals. Heather held her gaze on that box a little too long, and she flinched when she heard Barry say, “For some reason, my mom thought those would be something I’d want from my apartment.

“How do you tell her to stop trying to be so nice?” asked Heather.

“You’ll have to figure that out and let me know,” replied Barry.

Heather had her first natural grin since she arrived at the house. “Are you finally getting rid of your apartment?” said Heather.

“Some people think that’s a good idea,” said Barry, looking at the floor.

“You listen to ‘some people’ now?” said Heather. “You act like you’re dead.”

“I might as well be,” said Barry, glaring into Heather’s eyes. “Now I’m just another piece of the fucking furniture. No one knows a cure.”

“What are you talking about?” said Heather. “You’re the cure. How many doctors do you need to see before you realize you were stressing yourself out? It’s all in your head.”

Raising his voice, Barry responded, “That’s how I know they don’t have a clue what they’re talking about. I want to walk, that’s in my head, but I can’t even move a toe. Explain that!”

“Yeah, and when you could move your toes, you were still complaining,” Heather snapped back. “So maybe you’re better off here, staring out to nothing through the window.”

“I wasn’t staring at nothing,” said Barry, angrily. “I was looking at the garden.”

“What?” replied Heather. “Why?”

“It’s mine,” said Barry. “I started that garden with my mom when I was younger, and she doesn’t take care of it like she should.”

“I didn’t know that,” said Heather.

“Yeah, well, I don’t talk about it much,” said Barry.

“Why not?” said Heather.

“Why would I?” said Barry. “People don’t care about plants.”

“You do,” said Heather.

After a beat, Barry replied, “So?”

Heather gathered her breath, preparing to bulldoze over Barry with her thoughts, but she stopped herself. She opened the door behind her and walked over to Barry. Heather got behind his wheelchair and said, “Come on,” before giving the wheelchair a push.

“What are you doing?” said Barry.

“Shut up,” said Heather, and she continued to push him. She pushed him into the kitchen, which had a door that led to the back patio. The kitchen also contained Barry’s mother.

“Oh, hey, you two,” said Barry’s mother.

“I don’t know where she’s taking me,” Barry huffed.

“We’re going outside,” said Heather.

“Oh, that's nice,” said Barry’s mother. “I’ve been telling Bear he could use some fresh air.”

“I don’t want to go outside,” said Barry, “but she thinks she can do whatever she wants because I’m a cripple.”

Heather stopped Barry in front of the sliding glass door that led outside. She walked around Barry’s wheelchair to face him, put her hands on the arms of the chair, and leaned in to say, “That’s right, and now that we’ve got that straight, you can finally stop complaining about it. Accept it.”

“Oh,” said Barry’s mother, putting her hand over her mouth in surprise.

Heather unlocked the sliding glass door and slid it open. She walked to the back of Barry’s wheelchair and tried to push, but he had put the brakes on. Heather took the brakes off, and when Barry tried to put them on again, she grabbed a piece of his hair and twisted it.

“Ow! Stop it,” yelled Barry.

“Don’t try to put on the brakes,” said Heather. “You’re going.”

“Oh,” repeated Barry’s mother, reaching out her hand towards Heather and Barry, but not taking a step from where she stood.

Heather pushed Barry out onto the wooden deck. She spun the wheelchair around and struggled to guide it down the four steps to the ground, but was able to make it to the bottom without incident. Heather pushed Barry into the yard and over to the plants he had been staring at through his window.

“What now?” said Barry.

Heather scanned the plants and honed in on one. She pointed to it and said, “What’s this pink one?”

“Huh?” said Barry.

“What’s this pink one?” repeated Heather. “Tell me about it.”

“You’re not serious,” said Barry.

“I seriously want to know,” said Heather. “And we’re not leaving until I do.”

Barry huffed and said, “They’re rhododendrons.”

There was a beat before Heather asked, “And?”

“And what?” said Barry.

“Tell me more,” said Heather.

“What more do you want to know?” said Barry.

“What more do you know?” said Heather.

Annoyed, Barry said, “They’re the state flower, there’s over a thousand species of them, and they can’t be eaten because they’re toxic.”

“Really?” said Heather. “I feel like I’ve seen these around before, and I didn’t know that.”

“You should go ahead and eat some,” said Barry. “I don’t mind.”

Heather replied with a sarcastic smile. She scanned the plants again, pointed at another one, and said, “What’s this blue one?”

“Those are hydrangeas,” said Barry. “They’re only blue because my mom doesn’t know what she’s doing. If she would just add some crushed oyster shells to the soil, it would raise the pH, and those hydrangeas would be pink.”

“Really?” said Heather.

“Yeah, of course,” replied Barry.

“What about this one?” said Heather, as she pointed at another plant. Heather did her best to conjure up as much curiosity as she could, as Barry continued to talk about the plants for hours, and he couldn’t have looked more alive.