Blame The Weeds (gxg)

25

Humans were meek, and I was no exception. We were the only species that would crawl toward sustenance with so little nutritional value. Like a KitKat.

"What do you think you're doing?" my father demanded. I froze with the chocolate halfway to my face.

"Nothing?" I spoke. Dad slapped the candy to the white sheets of my hospital bed. "Hey!"

"They said no food."

"Chocolate isn't real food!"

"No. Food."

I smacked the sheets. "It looks like I shit myself!"

With a pointed look, he snatched the smeared chocolate bar, stalked over to the bin by the door, and tossed it. "I'm going to get coffee." He ran a hand down his face. "Don't do it again."

As soon as he left, I pulled another candy bar from my long white sock, grinning at it triumphantly.

Dad reappeared. I shoved half of it into my mouth before he stole the rest—and biffed it in the trash.

"I'm starving!"

He checked both my socks with a grimace before leaving again.

I was left alone in the little room with a little bed and a little TV up in the corner. The newscaster spoke of a storm hitting the coast in the morning. I wouldn't feel it—I'd be in surgery.

It was surreal, but there I was, prepped and primed to be cut open. The process had taken forever, and most of my summer. Saqui even said I was fast-tracked here at Saint Augustus. The liver biopsy had been the worst. I still panicked when I thought about it. Despite it all, everything had worked. Other than a low iron level a week ago because of my cycle, there hadn't been any problems. Smooth sailing, Saqui had said yesterday before he left me.

I ached to stop it and cry and scream and demand to go home. But I never did, so there I lay on Transplant Eve.

After ten minutes of listening to a meteorologist, Gabrielle popped her bright smile into the room holding a vase of little purple flowers.

"How are you feeling, honey?"

I fixed my face and grinned. "Ready."

"Oh, good," Gabrielle said. She clicked over in heels and a deep green skirt and blouse. She checked my forehead for a fever for whatever reason, then set the vase on my table. "What happened here?" she asked, pointing to my sheets.

"Dad," I grumbled. "I wish you'd brought a Big Mac. They're starving me." Gabrielle laughed, emotion locked into every note of it. The Williams arrived the night before and stayed with dad in our motel room. I'd been locked in this room forever. "Don't flowers come after I've survived?" I joked. Gabrielle scoffed, hitting my knee.

"Jeremiah loved flowers, you know. I'd bring them every day, all different kinds."

"Was he...here in Saint Augustus?"

"He was. Two weeks after the accident until..." She forced herself to grin. "Flowers made him smile. How rare that is in a place like this." But I was beginning to disagree. I'd smiled while joking with Doctor Saqui, while thinking about my little friend Graham, and while emailing Moe, whose kindness I'd never felt deserving of. Not to mention that the place was charged with Luke's life.

I reached for a delicate flower from the bouquet. Little pale purple flowers that couldn't pollinate on their own. They needed help from bees, whom they must've unconditionally treasured for their aid. I twirled the stem between my fingers, fighting back tears.

"Campanula americana," I said. "Bellflower. Thank you."

"You know them all." Gabrielle sat in the chair beside the bed. "I was hoping to catch you off guard with these little ones. I never had any true passions when I was your age. That's how I ended up at the bank. But no complaints." She leaned into the flowers, inhaling their fresh scent. "Your father had to come in eventually. It brought me my beautiful family."