Chapter Text
The air smelled like damp soil and hyacinth and ficus and the underlying odor of fertilizer. Some people disliked the smell, spending hours in the garden center could become cloying, but Lin Ming didn’t mind. She liked it, liked the way the air was always heavy with moisture, the way everything felt alive. It wasn’t a well paying job but she was able to pay her rent mostly on time and there was usually enough food at home to last the week, even if home was a studio apartment almost an hour away.
It was better than the alternative.
Absent-mindedly, she pulled at the black choker around her throat before picking up the tray of pansies and moving it to the table. She turned each pot carefully, until the plants looked right, standing back to examine it. The bell at the service counter dinged once causing her to jump – it was hardly used – then wince. Plants were better than customers but Lin Ming put on a smile and headed over.
She didn’t need to.
A man was standing there, one hand resting on the counter, the other holding a thin white cane. Gauze bandages covered his eyes, the same color as the light-weight knit sweater he wore. Lin Ming hesitated, gravel crunching under her feet as she came to a stop. He turned towards the sound, head tilted slightly, and smiled.
Crap.
He knew she was there. Now she couldn’t sneak away and find someone else, someone who was better equipped to help him. If there was someone else available. Lin Ming cleared her throat. The man’s brows contracted slightly.
“Excuse me? I only have a few questions…”
Something about his tone made her sad. It was as if he was preparing to be ignored and she knew that feeling well. She watched as he followed the sound of her approach until she was standing in front of him, scrambling to figure out what to do when signing wouldn’t work nor would the small notepad in her apron pocket. His mouth twitched.
“There is someone here, right?” he asked.
She opened her mouth, the metallic taste of panic in her throat.
Quick! Think!
She slammed her hand down on the bell, ringing it once.
The man’s mouth curled in confusion. Lin Ming wanted to die.
“Was that a yes?”
Slowly she reached back out, her confusion mirroring his, and rang the bell once more.
“Once for yes then. Can you speak?”
She tapped the bell twice quickly.
His smile was warm and relieved.
“If you need to get someone else to help me, I understand,” he said gently.
It would be easier to get someone else but they were short-staffed and this was the first time a customer had reacted with something other than annoyance when realizing she was non-verbal. She tapped the bell twice again and his smiled widened.
“Alright. It’s not a hard question. I’ve never been good with plants but I moved about six months ago. It has a window with a lot of sun. Now that it’s almost spring, I’d like to try again. What would be good?”
She stared at him, deciding that she was unable to trust his judgement on what was and wasn’t a hard question. Tapping her fingers against the table, Lin Ming considered her options. Whatever plant she sold him today would surely die. She had been working here long enough to understand what ‘not good with plants’ meant. Her eyes wandered, settling on the display table that homed the succulents. Some were more finicky but not aloe. Aloe was a plant you had to work to kill.
Carefully, she tugged on his sleeve and then backed away, deliberately making more noise than usual.
“Should I follow you? Keep walking if so,” he said.
Lin Ming turned. Occasionally she glanced over her shoulder to make sure he was following as she walked to the table but he followed along easily. She spent so much time taking care of the plants – working long hours that probably played into the fact her manager thought he didn’t need to hire more employees – that she knew each section well. It took her a moment to pick out the best looking aloe plant while the man stood waiting.
Now came the hardest part.
Normally she would avoid touching customers, as she avoided touching anyone, but there didn’t seem to be away around it. She wiped her hands clean as best she could on her apron before lightly touching his hand. He didn’t flinch but held out his hand and allowed her to place the plant in it.
“This one?” he asked, turning the pot in his hands and then carefully feeling the rigid, triangular leaves. His smile was soft and pleased and Lin Ming felt a flutter in her chest. “I don’t know what it is but I’ll trust you. It feels nice.”
There was a beat.
“How should I take care of it?”
Lin Ming opened and shut her mouth.
“Ah…”
She looked around. Her one of her coworkers was heading towards the back. The gravel slipped slightly under her foot as she started in that direction.
“Wait.” The man reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He swiped with two fingers and a robotic woman’s said ‘home screen’ followed by ‘notes’. He held it out to her. “Here. It has a screen reader. You can type whatever you need.”
Hesitating just slightly, she took the phone, wondering what to type as she examined the case; a crescent moon surrounded by stars on a dark background. Then she wondered why she had to think about it. All she needed to do was her job. Lin Ming shook her head and began to type. The robotic woman’s voice read out her words.
<< It’s an aloe plant. Put it in indirect sun. Water until the soil is wet and then don’t water it until the soil is dry. >>
“Thank you,” he said, holding out his hand. For the first time Lin Ming noticed the ink stains and the almost healed paper cut on his fingers. She placed his phone back in his hand. “I’ll follow you to the register.”
She gave a thumbs up on instinct. Immediately, her cheeks warmed and she spun around towards the register. It was old and finicky, the sort that didn’t rely on employee ID numbers but luck and the occasional smack to the side. Lin Ming punched in the item number.
The cash register dinged.
“I trust you.”
Lin Ming looked up. He was holding out a hundred yuan. She took it from his hand by the corner as if she thought it might bite and carefully, very carefully, counted out his change, before placing it back into his waiting hand. The man didn’t count it, didn’t feel it, he merely shoved it back into his wallet.
It was rude to stare but she couldn’t help it. No one had ever trusted her so or been as quietly kind to her. He picked up the aloe plant and held it against his chest, not caring if dirt rubbed off onto his white shirt.
“Thank you, for everything,” he said, inclining his head towards her. “I’ll take very good care of it.”
The plant would be dead in two weeks.
Two weeks later, Lin Ming still found herself thinking about the blind man. Not constantly; it didn’t consume her thoughts, but she would be watering the succulents and wonder how his plant was doing or someone would be needlessly rude and she would think of how pleasant he had been, despite it all. It would have been better, really, if the thoughts were incessant so she could dismiss them as a weird fixation, instead of creeping up on her like they did.
She wasn’t thinking about him right now though. She was wondering if she had swept up all the broken pieces of terracotta, a casualty when a customer bumped into the display of planters. The sound of someone clearing their throat behind her made her jump slightly, hurrying to empty the dust pan into the garbage before turning around.
“I didn’t mean to startle you, miss.”
A man wearing a black linen button up and dark jeans stood with his hands behind his back, watching her. His postured screamed that he was uncomfortable but his eyes were soft.
“I know you’re busy but I didn’t see anyone else,” he said. “I won’t take long.”
The last was said in a hopeful tone and Lin Ming’s mouth curled slightly in amusement. She pulled her notepad and pen out of her apron and wrote, << Sure, what can I do? >>
She held it up to him. He leaned forward just a bit to read it, eyes flicking to her for a moment before nodding, the motion tight.
“I need a plant. A house plant…?” He frowned. “For inside, like a cactus.”
Nothing about the man said he was the sort to enjoy gardening – his clothing was neat, not even a scuff on his shoes – but if she had to pick a plant for him, well, he did seem a little prickly. The thought made her huff quietly in laughter.
His frown deepened.
“What is it?”
<< Nothing, I apologize. A cactus seems fitting, >> she quickly scrawled out, prepared for him to be angry at her.
But he only narrowed his eyes slightly, considering.
“I see,” he said, finally, and she thought there was the faintest hint of amusement on his face.
Lin Ming’s shoulders relaxed and she flipped to a clean sheet and wrote, Follow me. I’ll show you our cacti.
“Thank you.”
Leading him through the rows, she stopped in front of the succulent and cacti table and gestured. He gave her another short nod and began looking over the table, hands still behind his back. She was about to ask if he needed anymore help when he sighed in relief and plucked a plant from the table.
“This one will do,” he said, holding up the aloe plant, expression more serious than needed. It was oddly endearing.
Lin Ming shifted awkwardly. There were already too many thoughts in her head that she didn’t want, she certainly didn’t need another. She wrote on her notepad once again.
<< Do you need care instructions? >>
“Yes,” he said, a bit too quickly and then, softer, “Yes, please. That would be very helpful.”
Flipping the sheet once again, Lin Ming wrote down the basic instructions. Without thinking, she drew a smiley face and tore the page out of her notepad, handing it to him. He read it over and then carefully folded it before slipping it in his pocket. The corners of his mouth pulled up; on anyone else, it wouldn’t have been a smile but on him, she thought that it was.
“Thank you again. I’ll let you get back to work.”
<< If you need anything else, let me know, >> she wrote down, characters messy in her hurry.
“I will,” he said, holding the plant out from him a bit and inclining his head.
She watched him until her co-worker had finished checking him out before she went back to sweeping. There were no more broken pieces of pottery to deal with, only the thoughts that buzzed around her head like bees around plum blossoms. Not once in the three years working here had thoughts of a customer followed her home nor had she ever teased a customer like she had today but for some reason it had seemed natural.
What is wrong with me, she asked herself.
Lin Ming didn’t want to answer that question.