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“Hey, Magenta.”
“Really, Ronan?” Blue stops restocking boxes of tea in her stall and swings around to give him a glare.
Last week, she’d been Cerulean. Next week, he should use Chartreuse. Or Periwinkle.
“Who’s the new guy?” Ronan nods to the new stall across the row.
The Henrietta Farmers’ Market isn’t large, so it’s easy to spot new vendors, especially when their stalls are full to bursting with lush green plants unlike anything the other greenery vendors are pushing. And especially when the boy running the stall is the most otherworldly creature Ronan has ever seen.
“No idea,” Blue shakes her head and peers across the aisle at the new booth. “My mom or Calla would probably know. I’ll ask when they get back. Unless you want to, you know, take some initiative. I’ll watch your stuff.”
Ronan grunts and leans back in his chair, “Hard pass.”
Blue laughs. Plucking a dried rosebud from a tea sachet that had torn open, she tosses it in Ronan’s direction, “Ah, there’s the friendly neighborhood farmer I know and love.”
“You don’t know shit,” Ronan crosses his arms over his chest. “I can be charming as hell.”
“Oh, yeah?” Blue eyes him and a sly smile plays on her lips. “I dare you to go over and introduce yourself. Be the welcoming party. Get your flirt on.”
Ronan and Blue have been interacting almost weekly for the better part of two years now and they’ve gotten to know one another pretty well in their own snarky way. Blue knows Ronan won’t refuse a dare. Drawing in a deep breath, Ronan unfolds himself from his seat and stands, “Alright. Watch my shit.”
Walking across the row, he hovers outside the new stall while the boy finishes with a customer. He finally steps into the booth and glances over the array of vibrant, healthy-looking plants covering the tables, looking up when he hears, “Can I help you?”
Ronan’s eyes meet the new vendor’s and his heart stutters. The boy’s eyes are ocean blue and set above high cheekbones, and the boy’s hair is the dusty kind of fair that makes his eyebrows almost invisible. Put together, the boy looks so ethereal it takes Ronan’s breath away.
“Hi. I just… I figured… You’re new, so I wanted to come say hi. I’ve got the fruit and vegetables over there,” Ronan gestures over his shoulder with his thumb before holding out his hand. “I’m Ronan.”
The new boy reaches his hand out to shake Ronan’s and Ronan takes in the long fingers, the knobby knuckles, the dirt under the fingernails. Ronan’s eyes stay fixed on the other boy’s hand as they shake and the boy says, “Adam. Nice to meet you.”
They make brief small talk about the farmers’ market, when is the busiest time of the day, what’s the best food truck to get lunch from, what tea stall to stay away from to avoid the taste of foot. Ronan thinks it’s going well until a real customer excuses herself to look at one of the plants near Ronan and he takes a step to the side to get out of her way. It’s then that his hip collides with a planter, which rocks for a moment before it tips off of the table to shatter on the pavement, ceramic, soil, and plant careening everywhere. The customer, Adam, and Ronan all stare at the broken pottery and dirt and leaves and then the customer quickly offers some form of condolence and walks away.
“Jesus Mary, I am so sorry,” Ronan says painfully. His eyes move from the mess on the ground to Adam, who is opening and closing his hands into fists, his jaw clenched as he draws in deep, even breaths.
Adam finally looks up at Ronan, voice tight, “It’s okay. Shit happens. I should clean that up so no one steps on it. Have a good day, Ronan.”
And just like that, Ronan is dismissed. He mumbles something unintelligible as a goodbye then turns on his heels. His shoulders creep towards his ears and he knows his face is burning bright red. When he trudges back towards his booth, he sees Blue hunched over in her’s, her body absolutely vibrating with suppressed laughter. Ronan scowls, “Oh, fuck off.”
“Better luck next week, Romeo,” Blue cackles.
-
The following Saturday, Blue wildly waves her arms to get Ronan’s attention as he finishes up with a customer. He thanks the man who took a bushel of apples that taste like peaches off of his hands and then he wheels on the girl in the next stall, “What, Burgundy?”
“Plant boy incoming,” Blue nods into the sparse crowd lingering between booths and when Ronan looks, sure enough, there’s Adam weaving his way around people on a direct path to Ronan’s stall. When he reaches the booth, the two boys greet one another, and then an awkward silence falls between them until Adam clears his throat.
“I just wanted to come over and say we’re good, after what happened last week,” Adam rocks back and forth on his toes. “The plant's doing fine and that’s what matters.”
“Yeah, sure. We’re good,” Ronan holds out his fist as a peace offering.
Hesitating for a second, Adam reaches out and taps his knuckles to Ronan’s before starting to look over the produce on Ronan’s table. His eyebrows furrow as he reads one of the signs and then he looks up at Ronan, “How can you have limited edition fruit?”
Ronan shrugs, “I only have one tree that grows them. You can try one, if you want.”
Adam still looks perplexed as he reaches out and picks up something labelled ‘Pear Plum’, “Is this thing safe?”
“You’re not one of those people who has to wash every fruit or vegetable before you eat it, are you? It’s just dirt, it won’t hurt you,” Ronan replies flatly. “They’re non-GMO. Free of all that bad stuff: pesticide free, chemical free, BPA-free, free range.”
“BPA-fr… Free range? That’s not… That’s for cows and chickens and stuff. You can’t have a free range tree,” Adam says exasperatedly.
“Sure I can,” Ronan shrugs again. “It’s not like I cage it up or anything. Will you quit complaining and just try it?”
Adam fixes Ronan with a look for a moment before he lifts the fruit to his mouth and takes a bite. Ronan watches Adam’s face as he chews, taking in the confusion then wonder that pass over Adam’s features. Lowering his hand, Adam studies the pear plum with a deep crease between his eyebrows, “What’s your farm again?”
“The Barns. It’s out in Singer’s Falls,” Ronan watches as Adam takes another few hesitant bites of the pear plum. “Where do you grow your stuff?”
“Here in Henrietta. I have a greenhouse out behind Boyd’s Garage,” Adam replies after finishing off the fruit, swiping juice off his chin with his nimble fingers.
Though Ronan doesn’t visit Henrietta much outside of the farmers’ market, he’s familiar with Boyd’s and he definitely doesn’t recall there being anything else around the auto repair shop. He says as such, “There’s no greenhouse out by Boyd’s.”
Sighing, Adam shakes his head, “If you don’t believe me, come see for yourself.”
“Maybe I will,” Ronan says, almost antagonistically.
Adam rolls his eyes and glances over his shoulder to see people hovering around his booth, “I gotta go. I’ll see you next week, Ronan. Thanks for the pear plum.”
Ronan watches Adam walk away and when he glances over, Blue is grinning maniacally. Her smile only gets larger when she notices Ronan looking, “You are objectively terrible at trying to pick people up.”
-
Sure enough, there is a small greenhouse tucked into the corner of the fenced in lot behind Boyd’s Garage. Ronan has followed Adam there after the farmers’ market the next Saturday and after unlocking the fence, Adam leads Ronan across the lot to the greenhouse.
“I work for Boyd,” Adam explains as they walk, answering Ronan’s unasked question. “He doesn’t charge me rent so long as I work a few extra hours off the clock.”
“Doesn’t exactly look very secure,” Ronan comments wryly.
Adam holds the door open for Ronan when they reach the greenhouse, “Yeah, well, plants are usually the last thing hooligans are looking to steal.”
Ronan takes in the greenhouse as he steps inside and Adam follows. The frame looks like it’s built with reclaimed wood and so do the work benches that line the space. Empty and full pots alike cover the tables that line the outer walls of the greenhouse, and there’s a pallet of plants that look like they’ve seen better days in the middle of everything. Ronan starts walking along the work benches, peering at the potted plans, “Where do you source from?”
“There’s a few nurseries in the area that sell me their dying stuff at a deep discount,” Adam replies. “Then I rehabilitate what I can and sell it at the farmers’ market.”
Ronan looks around the small greenhouse and doesn’t notice bags of fertilizer or any other materials that would give plants fresh life like the plants Adam’s selling, “So, what, do you jack them up on plant steroids? Sweet talk them?”
“Something like that,” Adam laughs and he looks at Ronan, assessing him for a few moments. “I guess I could show you, if you want?”
Shrugging, Ronan pushes his hands into his pockets and ducks his head to cover up the flush that had crept across his cheeks when he’d made Adam laugh, “Up to you, man.”
Adam hesitates for a second and then nods, “Alright.”
Stepping to the pallet, Adam looks over a few ragged-looking plants before picking up an African violet. He cups the terracotta pot in one hand as he moves closer to Ronan, holding the flower up between them. Adam lifts his free hand and gently starts stroking the plant’s browned leaves with his fingertips. Green starts slowly seeping back into the violet’s leaves and Adam bends his head slightly, whispering, “There you go, little lady. You’re already looking so much better.”
Ronan watches in awe as the plant’s leaves cycle through a number of shades and then turn into a standard deep, rich green. The barren stems grow new buds and then blossom into pink petals streaked with white. All the while, Adam continues to caress the plant and murmur, straightening when he’s seemingly satisfied with the violet’s improvement.
“What the fuck?” Ronan stares are the plant that had, just a moment ago, looked like it was on its last legs.
Adam smiles almost proudly at the African violet before looking at Ronan, “Now, why don’t you tell me how you really get your plums to look like pears.”
-
After the farmers’ market closes the next week, Ronan follows Adam back to his greenhouse and helps him unload his unsold plants before Adam follows Ronan back to the Barns in a tri-colored make-unknown car that looks like it’s held together with hopes and prayers. When he climbs out of his car in the Barns’ parking area, Adam looks around in awe, “You live here? By yourself?”
“Yeah,” Ronan nods and almost feels bashful. “It’s my family’s, but my brothers live in D.C., so they’re not around much. Most of the time it’s just me.”
Adam doesn’t bring up that Ronan didn’t mention parents and Ronan starts leading him out to the ramshackle orchard behind the farmhouse. As they walk, a raven alights from a tree and swoops towards them, landing on Adam’s shoulder.
“What the hell?” Adam yelps, flailing as the corvid’s beak starts rustling through his hair.
Ronan looks nonplussed as Adam tries to wave the raven away, “That’s just Chainsaw. Looks like she likes you.”
“You are, hands down, the strangest person I have ever met,” Adam looks at Ronan, wide-eyed.
“That’s rich coming from you, plant whisperer,” Ronan retorts.
Adam throws his head back and laughs loudly, startling Chainsaw back into flight. Ronan beams. They reach the orchard and Adam starts looking around, taking in the seemingly impossible fruits dangling from branches, “And how do you grow these?”
Ronan watches the other boy’s curiosity as he strings words together in his head and then he finally explains, “I come out here, I lie down, I sleep, and then when I wake up, boom. Tree.”
A crease forms between Adam’s eyebrows as he walks between the trees. He pauses every once in a while to look at one more closely and eventually wanders back to where Ronan is waiting, “So you dream them into existence?”
Ronan nods, “Yep.”
“So then why don’t you dream more apple peaches or pear plums? Why only one of each?”
Ronan shrugs, “I get new ideas. I mean, last week, I dreamt a vine of cantaloupe-sized lemons. Which are great for big batches of lemonade, but I can’t exactly cart them to the farmers’ market.”
Adam makes a pensive noise in his throat and the boys fall into a comfortable silence. Finally, Adam asks, “Do you mind if I pick something?”
“Go right ahead,” Ronan gestures to the orchard.
Stepping back among the trees, Adam trails his hands over trunks and branches before he stops by a tree weighed down with what look like apricots. He reaches up and plucks one from the tree, calling out to Ronan as he turns the fruit over in his hand, “What’s this one, really?”
“They’re like figs inside.”
A soft, breathy laugh leaves Adam as he shakes his head, “Of course.”
Aligning himself with the figgy apricot tree, Adam takes a few large steps into the empty field beyond the orchard in what would roughly be a row if this was a traditional farm. He crouches down after he’s gone about fifteen feet and starts digging into the soil until there’s a shallow hole, where he then nestles the figgy apricot, covers it with dirt, and cups his hands above the earth.
Ronan moves closer to watch in silence and he’s about to speak up when something starts pushing between Adam’s fingers. A few moments later, there’s a foot-high sapling growing out of what had been barren field five minutes before. Ronan looks between the sapling and Adam as the other boy stands and dusts his hands off, “Holy shit.”
Adam turns to Ronan with a shit-eating grin on his face, “Now you have two.”
The boys burst into peals of laughter that echo through the orchard.
After a while, Ronan walks Adam back to his tri-colored wreck of a car. They say their goodbyes and Adam is about to climb into his driver’s seat when Ronan speaks up, “Hey, after the market next week, do you… Would you like to get dinner? With me?”
Adam looks at Ronan and a smile spreads across his face, “Yeah, I’d like that.”
A few months later, the orchard is overflowing with apple peach, pear plum, and figgy apricot trees while vines of cantaloupe-sized lemons swirl around their trunks.