by Sarah Gay
“Come. Help.” She smiled, revealing teeth which had been filed down to soft points.
“I’m Tori.”
“Anita,” she said, bringing a hand to her chest. “And my husband, Patrick.”
“Does your family call you Anita and Patrick?” Tori tried to word her question, as to not give offense. Their names didn’t sound very African.
“Uduru, me. And NaNomi, him,” she said, gesturing to her husband. “When we become citizens, we change names to names used in Sudan and here. We like both.”
“Me too. Anita and Uduru are both beautiful names.”
Anita blinked her long, curly lashes as she gave a shy smile and handed Tori a plastic baggie of seeds.
Tori shook the bag. “What are we planting today?”
“Eruca, corchorus, portulaca, and tomato.”
“Tomato, I understand.”
She smiled, “Eruca, arugula, I think you say. Corchorus, herb tea, and make baskets with. It is first time I try to grow here, and portulaca,” Anita looked to her side. “People here think it is a weed, but it is very good for the body. Old Greeks eat it for strength.”
Tori pictured in her mind an elderly Greek man sitting on the edge of a Santorini cliff, harvesting the weed to add to his salad for strength. She was convinced Anita meant that it was eaten since the times of ancient Greece, but perhaps she meant both.
Tori sat at the corner of the pristine box. It was one of the more well-manicured vegetable plots in the garden. Half of the box held rows of green onions and sprawling, spider-like plants, woken from their winter hibernation. The other half was recently tilled and fertilized. The scent of freshly watered earth invigorated her senses. Tori held the baggie in the air. “How deep do we plant these?”
“I show you.” Anita made two long lines in the dirt, on either side of the trickle irrigation tube. She then spat into her palm, and sprinkled several seeds into her saliva. She motioned with her head for Tori to do the same.
Tori hesitated, but then slowly released what small amount of spit she could muster into her hand. She quickly poured several seeds into her open palm, then carefully placed the seeds into the carved dirt.
“You need to drink more water,” Anita said, shaking her head in obvious disappointment at Tori’s low amount of saliva.
“Sorry, I don’t spit very…” she looked up at Anita, trying to find the words.
Her new friend’s eyes sparkled with merriment and she sported a broad smile. Tori was sometimes slow to realize when someone was teasing her. She smiled back.
Anita continued spitting and planting. She had finished her line several minutes before Tori, but, thankfully, did not disrupt Tori’s new-found system of spitting, rubbing, then covering.
Anita leaned down, took a handful of dirt in her hands, rubbed it into her palms, then brought it up to her nose—as if she were determining its effectiveness through its scent. “You are one with us. I like you.”
“It’s good dirt?”
Anita laughed. “I like you, Tori, not dirt.”
“Oh. Thank you,” she said, feeling sheepish. “I like you too. Is your family here in Salt Lake?”
“They are gone,” Anita said, her voice shaking.
Tori took in a slow breath. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Patrick is strong man. He run ten kilometers holding me in his arms after they attack us. I cried. Tell him, let me stay with my mother and sisters, but my mother tell him to go.” Anita wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “We all have loss. We all can never go home.” Anita’s face slowly turned to the patches of the garden, as if she knew every story. “We all ooboo oontoo.”
“What is ooboo oontoo?”
“It is old word in my language, for human. Something computer too,” she said, waving her hands in the air, as if to dismiss the second meaning.
“Oh, Ubuntu. My computer programmer, nerdy brother talks about Ubuntu all the time. But how does the open source software relate to humanity?”
“Start to mean more than just human with revolution to stop apartheid happen in South Africa. It more means now, we are better together, whole.” Anita reached for Tori’s arm. “I am better, because you, Tori.”
Tori’s heart no longer felt as if it were being torn apart. It had not only melted back together, it now seared with compassion for her new friends.
“Zee coming!” Anita shouted, looking toward the side street. Three similar rental cars pulled along the side of the gardens and parked.
“What? Zee?” How did Anita know Zee? A light suddenly lit in her mind. That’s it. Zee and Annie were interviewing together. Tori wanted to kick herself for being so slow at times. She scanned the gardens. He wasn’t anywhere in sight, but there were two camera crews who had already set-up. Zee was sure to be in the gardens soon enough. Then, the realization of her messy hair, and, oh no, her hideous cold sore.
“Anita, he can’t see me like this,” Tori exclaimed, motioning to her body and face.
“You like Zee?”
This wasn’t good. She had just announced to the garden that she had a crush on Zee, but there was no going back now. “Yes. I think I do.”
“I help you,” Anita said, unravelling her head wrap from her hair.
“What are you doing?” Tori laughed as Anita began the process of hiding Tori’s hair and lower face.
“This too.” Anita emptied the contents of a large, colorful shoulder bag into her gardening pail. “Keep. We now friends. Ubuntu.”
Tori looked down at her Hermes purse. It had cost more than a luxury SUV. She wiggled off the hesitation and poured the contents of her purse into her new shoulder bag as she giggled nervously. The thought of this new way of thinking and feeling produced an almost euphoric thrill in her. She slowly handed her Hermes over to Anita.
Anita shook her head. “No. No exchange. Gift.”
“Gift,” Tori said, turning to leave. “Ubuntu.” she smiled and waved.
Tori began crossing the street in front of the gardens the moment an additional car pulled up along the street behind her. She glanced back as Annie and Zee exited the black SUV. Tori’s anticipation mounted, causing her to stumble slightly. What was wrong with her? She had basically told Zee she wasn’t interested. She could lie to him, but she couldn’t lie to herself. She would see Zee at the color run in a few days. She needed to get a grip on her emotions before she saw him again.
On her drive back up the winding canyon, Tori mulled over her conversations in the garden. How do they possibly live with all that heartache, and still give and smile?
If ever there were an aha moment in Tori’s life, it was right then. They smile, because they give.
Ethan’s ringtone interrupted the soft music on the radio. “Hey, bud. What are you guys up to?”
“I’m home now. Zach decided to go to a movie with his family?”
“You didn’t want to go?”
“No. It didn’t sound that good.”
“Is it violent?”
“I think so.”
Ethan never liked the same violent or gory flicks that Zach was into. Tori recently allowed him to view movies with PG-13 ratings. She typically helped him decide which ones were, or were not, appropriate.
“Are you hungry, sweetie?”
“Yeah. Are you making dinner tonight?”
“I thought I’d pick something up. Do you want pizza, or maybe a burrito?”
“Sure.”
“You don’t sound happy about those options.”
“I kinda want your sausage kale soup.”
“No problem. I’ll pick up the ingredients on my way home.”
“Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.”
She hung up the phone with a sense of anticipation. He wouldn’t always talk to her that way, would he? She had heard of teenagers verbally slicing their parents to shreds. She promised herself to never forget that sweet voice, maybe that memory could carry her through those periods of rebellion—until he lear
ned to appreciate her again.
Tori absentmindedly loaded her produce onto the empty grocer’s conveyer belt. She tried to ignore the catty conversation between the customer in front of her and the cashier, relishing in the latest celebrity break-up.
Suddenly, the customer began pushing Tori’s produce back on the belt. Without looking up, the woman muttered, “I’m not finished.”
The middle-aged woman’s cart still contained a few items. All Tori could think was, what did that poor celery ever do to you? Tori tried to make eye contact with her, to no avail.
When the well-dressed woman finished checking out, her eyes scowled as they scanned Tori’s dirty clothes and bag.
Tori looked down. She was filthy, but nothing that sour woman could throw at her would make Tori stop smiling, or stop giving. She was finally starting to feel whole again.
When the young cashier finished checking Tori out, she held the receipt up in the air without looking away from her till. Tori waited patiently for the cashier to acknowledge her. When she finally did, Tori took her receipt, smiled, and said, “Ubuntu.”
9
Tori sat back against her mother’s headboard and pulled her legs up to tighten the laces of her seasoned running shoes. The stale, tan room had lacked sufficient light and air flow, but Tori recently brightened it up with a few floor lamps and an air purifier.
“Ah,” her mother groaned softly as she slowly adjusted herself up into a seated position. “Looks like its your run day.”
“Yep. How’s your abdomen?”
“Fine.”
Tori knew she was lying. Her mother’s pain seemed to be increasing. Tori had watched her mother slowly wither down to nothing. Her mother was fading from her, just as Jim had.
It was difficult to watch the denigration, and then relive the emotional heartache she had been through with Jim. Her mother wouldn’t understand, and she shouldn’t have to. So, Tori held back her thoughts, but most importantly, she held back her tears.
“I have an idea, Mom. Would you like me to bring you some yarn to knit?”
“That’s kind of you, sugar. But my hands are too weak these days to knit.”
Tori loved it when her mother called her sugar. She had only picked up a few Southern words from her few years in Atlanta, and that was one of them.
Tori’s nerves kicked into hyper drive. “I’m not sure what to expect on the run.”
“You seem uneasy about a simple run. You’ve done a hundred of these. Why are you anxious about this one?”
“It’s nothing. I’ve just never been hit in the head with colored chalk before.” Tori didn’t sound convincing, even to herself. She couldn’t bring up the hunk she had been thinking about nonstop for the past four months.
“Relax. I’ve known you to always emanate goodness. You must expect that what you project out will come back to you tenfold.”
“You don’t usually talk this way.” Tori looked suspiciously at her mother. “Are you preparing a book with words of counsel for us?”
Her mother adjusted the covers over her legs. “It may be on my mind.”
“I’m not sure Annie is the best influence on you. Next, you’re going to tell me to embrace my inner child.”
“Couldn’t hurt.”
Tori rolled her eyes. At least her nerves were beginning to calm, and, more importantly, her cold sore had healed.
“Can I massage your feet before I leave? You’ll rest better.”
“Annie beat you to it. She was here early this morning for a few minutes. She wanted to set our interview appointment up for tomorrow.”
“And she massaged your feet? That seems a bit odd.”
“She wanted to try out this new essential oil she bought.”
“That was sweet of her,” Tori said with a twinge of sarcasm.
“You’re my dearest sweetheart,” her mother said, cupping Tori’s face in her withered hands. Her brown eyes were warm and gentle. “I love you forever.”
Her mother was never one to give verbal affection. Perhaps it was a tender mercy to have time to say good-bye. It cut Tori to the core to watch her mother become dependent on others after being so independent her entire life. Although, her mother had also grown more affectionate and meek.
“I’d better leave.” Tori looked down at her phone. “I need to meet up with Annie and Zee.”
“Zee. Who’s Zee?”
Tori’s face flushed. “He is, um, her boyfriend. I mean, I think her cousin’s fiancé.”
Her mother’s face scrunched in confusion. “Her cousin’s fiancé?”
Shoot, her mother could see right through her. Tori took a deep breath and concentrated. “Her fiancé’s cousin.”
“I see,” she said, taking Tori’s hands in hers. “Promise me that you’ll allow yourself to relax and have fun today.”
“Okay.”
“Will you stop by with your friends after the race? I’d love to hear the details.”
“We’ll be caked in chalk.”
“I don’t care.”
“Wait. Who are you? And what have you done with my mother?”
“Do you really think that I care about a little colored chalk these days? In my condition?”
“I just never thought I’d hear you say not to worry about making a mess.”
“Want to make me happy?” She squeezed Tori’s hand. “Bring your friends.”
“You got it, alien mother.” Tori kissed her mother’s cheek and ran out the door to find Annie.
They’d decided to meet an hour before the race at the botanical gardens where a tulip festival was in full swing. There were advertised to be 300,000 tulips emerging from bulbs brought in straight from Holland. What did the Dutch not do right?
The refreshing morning breeze carried a fruity, floral scent. Tori stood at the top of the hill, overlooking the rows of bright blossoms. She marveled at how they wove into intricate shapes and patterns, diamonds within diamonds, and teardrops within teardrops. The tulips were arranged with meticulous care. She’d never seen anything like it. Friends of hers had posted on social media recent trips to Holland, displaying the sprawling tulip fields, but photos never did flowers their due justice. This was like an explosion of art. Vincent van Gogh, the native Dutchman, would have been scrambling for paints.
“Tori!”
When Tori turned around, he was standing in front of her. “Hey, Zee.” She tried to sound causal.
His white t-shirt fit perfectly. “So good to see you again.” As he spoke, his white teeth glistened, contrasting his bronzed chin. “How’ve you been?”
Tori swallowed, praying her knees wouldn’t give out. “Good. And you?”
“Can’t complain.”
There was an awkward moment of silence as they viewed the gardens from their perch. Tori couldn’t think of one smidgen of pleasantries to entertain him with.
“Annie said she’d be a few minutes late. Would you like to check out the botanical gardens with me?”
Tori shrugged her shoulders. “Sure.”
“This is amazing!” Zee exclaimed as they approached a hill of cascading water fountains lined with an array of yellow and pink tulips.
His vivacity made Tori laugh. He reminded her of Ethan. They both seemed to get a kick out of life. “Have you been to the tulip farms in Holland?”
“I’ve been to Holland, but never in the spring. You?”
“I wish. This is my first time to a tulip festival.”
“Mine as well,” he said with enthusiasm. “And I’m glad to spend this first moment with you.” He lightly touched her arm with the back of his hand, causing her to take in a quick breath. “I didn’t think there were many more of those on my bucket list.”
“Ever been on a chalk run before?”
He shook his head. “You?”
“No. Seems we’ll be sharing two firsts together today.” She was flirting with him, but it was all in the name of fun as her mom had suggested.
“I have an i
dea. Why don’t you think of all the places you’ve never been, but would like to see; and all the things you’d like to do, but never done. I’ll do the same, then we’ll compare notes.”
She swung her hands in the air as she gave a little skip. “Okay.”
Annie finally arrived at the gardens minutes before they were scheduled to take their places on the line.
Zee waved to her as she approached. “Thought you’d changed your mind. You missed some amazing flowers.”
“Sorry, got caught. You’ll have to tell me all about it, down to the very last detail.” She raised her sunglasses and winked at him.
Was she flirting? Or was it another inside moment of confidence? They seemed to share quite a few of those.
Annie stretched down and touched her toes. “Now remember, I don’t run. I’m only doing this to get material for my next novel, and release some pent-up anger.” She turned to Tori and whispered, “Get ‘em in the head. I find it to be…”
“The best therapy,” Tori and Zee said simultaneously.
Annie continued her stretching routine by raising her right arm up and pulling it over her body. “I’m a genius,” she said quietly.
“What was that, Annie?” Tori questioned.
“Oh, nothing. I couldn’t be more excited about this race, and with as good as this date’s, I mean day’s going, I’m set to get enough material for two books.” This time Annie raised an eyebrow to Zee.
Tori put her hands on her hips. “Seriously, what is it with these winks and eyebrow thingies you keep doing?”
Zee grabbed Tori by the elbow and pulled her aside. “She’s a writer. She tends toward crazy, but I like to call her eccentric.”
“Heard that.” Annie interjected. “Thought you said I was funny, not crazy?”
Zee smirked. “Still to be determined.”
The moment the shot fired, Annie unloaded her first round at Zee’s head and laughed. “Told you it’s the best therapy.”
A blue puff still lingered around Zee’s shoulders as he grabbed Tori’s hand and set out on a run. “Come on, we’ll lose her in two shakes.”
“Twenty nanoseconds? I’m fast, but not that fast,” Tori said, running through yellow mist.