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She wrinkled her nose. “Beauty isn’t useless.”
“Isn’t it? It applies meaningless value where value isn’t deserved,” I said. “If you become stranded away from civilization?—”
“Like a plane crash on a tropical island?”
“Sure. You’ve crashed on an island, and you need to secure the resources you require for survival.”
“Okay.”
“After securing shelter and fresh water, the most valuable resource you could find is the humble potato.” I walked across the garden and pointed to the potato plants. “The green stalks and leaves waste no effort on appearances, but the colorless root beneath the soil contains all the amino acids the human body needs to repair the body’s cells.”
“But french fries aren’t all you need to survive.” She crossed her arms. “You’re going to need a more balanced diet in the long term, one with a rainbow of color. I say while you’re waiting for your next potatoes to harvest, go out and find the most gorgeous fruit to ever exist—a dragon fruit with its beautiful pinks andgreens. How about the almost-as-humble-as-a-potato banana? It’s sweet and filled with potassium.”
“Potatoes also have potassium.”
She was right about the necessity of eating a rainbow of fruits and vegetables, but that wasn’t my point. Dragon fruit and bananas held less value than potatoes.
“What about strawberries and blueberries? And beauty that reaches beyond the basic needs of our stomach? What about beauty that feeds the soul—kindness and sunsets, an adorable toddler snuggling an even more adorable puppy? Rainbows and confidence? What about u?—”
I stared at her, waiting for her to finish whatever word she’d been about to say.
University? Unification? Utilitarianism?
She didn’t finish her sentence. Unless….
“Me?”I said.
“You’re gorgeous. Don’t pretend you don’t know.” She glared at me. “And that beauty is only one check box on a mile-long list of other things that you are. Does being pretty take away from the good you’re trying to do with your trash algae?”
“Eukaryotic organisms,” I corrected, amusement forming a bubble of lightness in my chest.
“You know what I’m talking about.” She clipped her words and glared harder. “Does being pretty mean you’re not an infuriating jerkhole? No. Because you’re that, too.”
Here I thought we were going to spend our time together trying not to tear each other’s eyes out. This turn of events was wonderfully amusing.
“So you think I’m pretty and doing good work,” I prodded.
“Anda jerkhole.”
“Noted.”
“If anything knocks points off your value, it’s the jerkholeness, not the beauty.”
“I got it. Thank you, Layana.”
“Now that I’ve crushed your weird potato argument, let’s get to work,” she said with a clap of her hands. “It’s cold out here. And I can already tell it’s going to get weird taking pics of you crouching in the dirt and smooching your tomatoes.”
Smooching my tomatoes?
“I don’t have to crouch in the dirt for that. There’s a bench.” I headed in that direction.
She followed.
The small patio area ahead came into view. It was an impractical space Oma and Esme had coerced me to help them build for when they visited. The solar string lights made the functional lamps in my garden look dull in comparison.
When Layana stepped into the light, she beamed like the sun itself.
“You faker.” She threw an elbow into my ribs.“Thisis beauty.”
