Greenhouse Effect

3.

I'm currently stuck in an old-western standoff with the pink sticky note that's been left for me by the home phone. Our guns are already drawn on one another.

I stare at its face: 843-263-1125. The unfamiliar number stares back at me, making anxiety pinch in my chest. I don't know who will be the first to shoot, but for now it looks like we're stuck in a stalemate.

Despite this, I don't dare lower my gun as I make my way out the front door.

I hop onto my bike and take off down the street, flying past all of the proper-looking family homes. As I ride, I let the warm wind blow away all of my thoughts about that unwelcome phone number. They're weighing me down and the sooner I make it to Potter's the better.

Turning onto the street where lawns are littered with glass marble stepping stones, antique looking yard ornaments, and half-trying chain link fences, Potter's house comes into view.

I traipse through grass that's tall enough to tickle my ankles, making my way around his single story home to where the greenhouse lies. Briefly, I gaze up at the beautiful structure that's composed almost entirely of glass panes, unstained wood used only to hold them all together. I can see immediately that Potter isn't inside; he must be occupied with something in the house. Maybe already brewing today's tea.

As I let myself in the door, it complains with a loud creak. Almost immediately, I realize the thoughts I let go of on the bike ride over must have followed me all the way here because I feel them crawl back into my head through my ears.

Sighing, I wander over to one of philodendron plants to check for new growths. I lift up the leaves, examining them closely.

"Any new growths?" Potter's voice startles me. How does he get in through that door so quietly?

"Not that I can tell," I say to him after studying the plant a little further.

"What happened last night?" Potter asks me confidently, moving to stand beside me. My breath catches as he turns to me with his arms crossed, awaiting an answer.

How could he possibly have known the change happened last night?

"Is it that obvious?" I ask incredulously. I thought I'd done a good job at concealing my feelings, though Potter always has had a way of seeing right through me.

Potter's eyes tilt towards the philodendron as if that were explanation enough. What? Is that one reaching out to comfort me too? I've decided these plants must be a bunch of snitches.

I give in with a sigh. "My birth mom wants me to call her."

His brows furrow a little in confusion. I half expected him to not be remotely surprised at what I had to say, but I guess his psychic abilities are a little uncalibrated today.

"The one who's never called before?" He asks me, his voice uncertain.

"That's the one."

"Huh," he says thoughtfully, before taking a moment to recalibrate. His eyes sneak towards the philodendron, looking for something else I guess, before meeting mine again. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," I admit, anxiety rearing its ugly head again through my voice. "I feel like I have to call her back, but I don't know if I want to give someone an opportunity to enter my life that didn't want me in theirs for so long..." I trail off.

He examines me closely before responding, which always makes me more nervous. "Do you want my honest opinion?"

I hesitate for a moment before nodding.