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After an early morning of once again being slimed by Aloe Vera and eating half of a burrito, I found Meg in the garden. I thought she was tending to the flowers from her father, but as I approached her I could see that the plant in her hands was a small white hyacinth she appeared to be planting. Meg supported the flower by holding the clump of soil protecting the roots. She studied the white bulbs carefully.
I knelt next to her. As usual, she hardly paid me any attention.
“What are you doing?” I asked her, eyeing the hyacinth wearily.
“This place needed some color,” she said shortly. I didn’t bother pointing out that the flower in her hands was stark white and might stay that way forever.
Meg glanced sideways at me. “You really never learned how to take care of these?”
I looked down at the hyacinth and did my best to swallow my misery.
“I usually like to stay away from them. There are things-painful memories-I would rather forget.”
Meg’s expression turned determined. “That sounds like a dumb way to honor someone’s death, especially since you didn’t even ask permission before turning him into a plant.” She held out the hyacinth to me. “You’re going to learn how to grow these.”
Her voice told me that it wasn’t a request, but I didn’t take the hyacinth from her.
"I can’t, Meg. You don’t understand. I watched him die. It was gruesome and...it...” I put a hand over my mouth and held back bile as I recalled Hyacinthus’s blood dripping down my toga as I held him, and there was so much but I wouldn’t let him go-
Meg’s eyes clouded over. “I saw my father’s corpse when I was five, Apollo. It took me a long time to finally come back here and finish what he started, but I did it. And you can too.”
Again she held out the flower. This time I gently took it with shaking hands. The strong perfume of the bulbs overwhelmed me, and my trembling fingers threatened to drop the plant.
Meg cupped her hands underneath my own, offering support. She smiled happily, a rare sight.
“Thanks for not making this an order,” I joked awkwardly, still feeling very uncomfortable.
“It wouldn’t work if I’d forced you to plant it,” she responded with annoyance.
“What wouldn’t work?” I asked.
"Plants help people grow. And if anyone needs to grow, we could all agree it’s you.”
I wasn’t sure if it was a compliment.
“Now we need to find the best spot to plant it.” Meg gestured with her head. “Come on.”
She pulled her hands away from mine and stood up. My fingers had stop shaking.
After about ten minutes of scouting and Meg rattling off useless plant information, we finally found the best spot. She dug the hole and I gently lowered the hyacinth down into it, being ever so careful not to damage the roots.
Meg showed me how to smooth out the soil around the flower so it would stand up straight.
“I’ll plant more,” Meg said. “We’ll have a whole patch of them.”
I wasn’t listening, because as I watched the delicate white hyacinth sway in the warm breeze, I could hear my sweet Hyacinthus’s laughter being carried on the wind.
And, for a moment, he was never really gone at all.