I willed myself up and went with Mom to pick up sushi. By the time we returned home, the rain had become torrential. Little waterfalls tumbled off the house gutters, creating dirt-filled puddles in the flower beds my mom had been trying to fill. Despite the rain, one rose had popped out of a dying bush, desperate to live its life against the odds.
>> <<
I’d fallen asleep at some point Monday afternoon withItopen on my lap, rain still gently pattering against the windows. I awoke with a startled jolt as Nikki shook me, half expecting Pennywise the clown to be standing over me.
“What? What’s going on?” I groggily rubbed my eyes, trying to shift my body out of fight-or-flight mode.
“Get up. You’ve got a visitor.”
“I do?”
I asked the question despite knowing the answer, as if somehow asking would change it. My body shook with anticipation, very much back in flight mode. I slid out of bed and padded downstairs as I pulled on a sweater, pressing myself against the window that peered into the porch.
My heart seized when I saw Brooklyn sitting on the wicker rocking chair on our porch, casual in a Clayton baseball hat and Nike shorts. I caught a glimpse of a small bundle of colorful flowers in his hands.
“I told him he had to wait outside,” Nikki said tersely.
I scoffed. “Why would you do that? It’s raining.”
“Because he’s up to something,” Nikki snapped, pointing at the window. She sighed and put her hand to her forehead. “Whatever’s going on with him, you need to sort it out before it gets out of control.”
I thought about what Mom had told me the other day about not forcing people to get better. I shouldn’t—couldn’t—strive to control any of it, but how else would I prevent it from getting out of control to begin with? It made no sense. I had to drive it, because who else would?
“Hey,” Brooklyn greeted me, his voice weary as he stood up from the rocking chair. It squeaked a few times as it continued rocking, banging slightly against the side of the house.
I felt a weird wave of déjà vu wash over me as I looked at him. So much had changed since the day he first showed up at my house, but the familiar sight of him standing there, smiling down at me, made all of the uncertainty evaporate. It almost tricked me into thinking we could go back to that first time.
“Hey,” I replied. Brooklyn tensed when I walked closer. “Everything okay?”
“I’m not sure Nikki likes me,” Brooklyn said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“She’s being defensive. It’s like her job,” I responded as I twirled a lock of hair around my finger. I looked down at his hands, calm and steady holding a small bundle of mismatched flowers in an array of pinks and purples and oranges.
“Are those for me?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah.” He handed them to me. “I’m sorry, they kind of suck.”
I ran my hands across the soft petals of the flowers. There was one rose, an orchid, a few carnations, and an azalea, tied at the stems by a thin string. Like outcasts from a garden that didn’t match their own kind but instead complemented each other’s differences. Just like we did.
“No, these are beautiful, thank you,” I said with a nod. “But what are they for?”
Brooklyn scowled, looking down at them as I cradled them in my hands. “For trying to help me the other night. I’m still kind of ashamed you had to see me like that. I’m sorry.”
I looked back up at him, and he smiled at me the way he always did—calm and bright and so assured of himself. It reminded me why it was so hard to walk away; it was for that Brooklyn. That Brooklyn was worth it.
“I like flowers,” I told him.
Brooklyn stepped closer to me and ran his hand up my arm. He gave me a weak smile and kept his hand on my shoulder. “Will you just hear me out, Nat?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Fine. We can sit out here if you want.”
He sat back in the rocking chair, looking out at the road as a car drove by slowly, sloshing through a puddle. “I like the rain.”
“Me too,” I told him, sitting in another chair across from him. “It’s so calming when it’s like this, and I love the smell. It has a name, you know.”
“Does it?”
“Petrichor,” I replied, running my fingers over the petals of some of the flowers. “It’s from the plant oils and bacteria in the soil that build up when it’s dry, and when it rains, the smell of it all is released.”
