Chapter Text
Basil paces his living room, running a hand through his hair once, twice, three times. He spent two years getting rid of the habit, but one phone call from his mother, and he’s become a 16-year-old kid again. “What do you mean you’re selling the house?”
“Exactly what I said,” his mother responds, annoyed. Then again, when is she not? “It’s been dormant for two years now, Basil. The value will depreciate substantially if it remains that way for much longer. A house like that could fetch a decent price on the market. Nowadays the suburbs are all the rage, apparently.”
“Why is it always about money with you?” Basil mutters.
“Speak up. You know I hate it when you mumble.”
Basil grapples for a solid argument, but instead replies with a simple, “You can’t sell it.”
“For the love of—I am not hiring someone to look after a house no one lives in.”
Basil searches his mind for an alternative. Can he pay for someone to look after it in his parents’ absence? No. He’s already paying for bi-monthly therapy sessions and his part-time job at the hardware store barely covers the co-pay. Then again, he can pick up more shifts. How much does it even cost? He puts his mother on speaker while he Googles a home caretaker’s average salary.
Nope. Not an option.
His mother sighs and he can almost see the way she pinches the bridge of her nose despite her last visit being before Basil had entered middle school. “The only reason I’m having this conversation with you is that your grandmother left the house to you—for some godforsaken reason—and I decided to be gracious enough to involve you in the conversation. If you would just see reason, maybe you’d realize it would be a good way to repay all the support we’ve given you your entire life.”
Support. Basil’s parents leaving on a “business trip” for the last six or so years sounds more like neglect to him. For all he knows, they could be divorced, considering he hasn’t spoken to his father in about half that time. For a while, Basil lived with his grandmother since living alone in a city apartment only brought him cold sweats and night terrors. Once she fell ill, however, he couldn’t justify burdening her with his upbringing. He’d lied and said his parents were coming back, so he could return home without any issues.
His parents stayed gone. His issues kept him company.
“I’ll do it.”
“Do what?” his mother asks.
“I’ll take the damn house,” Basil says, more confidently this time.
“First of all, language. Second of all, you’re going to take care of that house?” She sounds skeptical. “What are you going to do about school? Your father and I have already paid the first semester’s tuition. It’s too late to get a refund and let me remind you how much debt you’d be in this semester alone without our assistance.”
Basil opens his laptop and finds the Faraway University website. He clicks the apply tab on the navigation menu and scans for application deadlines. “The school in Faraway does rolling applications. I’ll just transfer after the semester ends.” He checks their list of majors while he’s at it. “They have a botany program, too. The course codes are similar so my credits should transfer.”
The line goes quiet for a moment. “You’re serious.”
“Dead serious.”
Basil glances around his apartment at the plants he’s grown over the years; the cape primroses and amaryllis are blooming spectacularly this year, not to mention the herbs flourishing on the balcony. His eyes follow the strings of photographs, some as old as the first camera his grandmother bought him when he turned 12.
All of the best parts of his home—of him—come from her. She taught him how to handle browning leaves, how to be gentle and loving despite his frustrations. She taught him how to find beauty where people don’t think to look.
She taught him how to live.
“Alright, but there are conditions.”
Basil smiles, his heart aching over memories he wishes he had more of. “I’m listening.”
⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘
Basil drops the last box in the living room. Sweat beads on his forehead, the 40-degree weather only making him more uncomfortable. He takes a deep breath. This is it: his whole life in boxes.
He brought only what he could fit in Polly’s car, which was more than he expected. Instead of her beat-up sedan from when Basil was a kid, Polly had upgraded to an SUV with ample legroom. According to her, the elderly people from the Faraway Retirement Home appreciated the change.
Polly closes the fridge and places her hands on her hips, giving him a sharp nod. “Alright. Your kitchen should be stocked for at least the next week if not two. They were having a sale on brussels sprouts at Othermart, so I hope you don’t mind them too much. They’re good roasted.”
Basil smiles. For a woman without her own children, she sure does mother him enough for a dozen kids. “You didn’t have to do that.”
She raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You and I both know you’d spend all your money on flowers and herbs before you’d buy proper groceries,” she chides. “At least this way you’ll have enough to tide you over until you find a steady job.”
“Yeah. I’ll head over to Fix-It tomorrow and see if the owner is hiring.” Basil opens one of the boxes, sifting through his gardening and botany books before placing a stack of them on an empty bookshelf.
Polly’s frowns, the lines on her forehead even more pronounced than the last time he saw her. Had it really been during the funeral? “Are you sure you want to work and be a full-time student? Your priority should be your studies.”
Condition #1: Basil pays for any upkeep and utilities.
“It won’t be too bad,” he assures her. “I worked in the city, too, so I’m used to balancing.”
Condition #2: Basil’s grades aren’t allowed to fall below a 3.0 GPA during any given semester.
She shakes her head. “I don’t know how you kids find time to sleep.”
I don’t, Basil jokes internally.
They stand in silence, two-thirds of a whole family. Despite his grandmother’s absence, he and Polly still hold tight to each other, as if their hands are slathered in washable glue. They might lose their grip during a storm, but when they’re ready—when Basil’s ready—they paste themselves together again.
Polly approaches and wraps her arms around Basil. For a moment he’s shocked by the contact, but gradually he returns the hug. She squeezes tighter. He can’t bring himself to tell her he can barely breathe.
She finally steps back with a sigh but keeps her hands on his shoulders. “Well, as much as I’d like to stay, I have to pick up Mrs. Montez and take her to physical therapy.”
“Alright.”
“Make sure to call me if you need anything.”
“Yes, Polly.”
“Even if it’s just for a home-cooked meal.”
Basil laughs. “Got it.”
“Even if you just want someone to rant to. I know you college students have a million problems and zero time to work through them all.”
“I’ll let you know if I’m on the verge of tearing my hair out.”
“You’d better.” Her stern expression softens all at once. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
“I’m going to be fine,” he murmurs.
I don’t have a choice, after all.
Condition #3: The minute Basil gives up on the house, it gets sold.
Polly gathers her purse and keys. Before she closes the front door behind her, she stops and faces him. “Thank you for loving her. The only thing in this world more important to her than her garden was you. She’d be glad to see you bringing it back to life.”
Basil’s throat clenches and he swallows his tears. “Thanks, Polly.”
With a click, she’s gone.
Finally, he’s alone. Almost all of his grandmother’s valuables were stored away years ago, but the picture frames and books remain. Basil adds a duster to his mental shopping list when he wipes a finger on one of the book covers and it comes back gray. Otherwise, the house is still and sterile, the air stagnant. He goes to the front window and pushes it up. It’ll be cold for a bit, but at the very least he won’t choke on all the dust he’s about to send into the air.
The drive from the city to Faraway Town takes at least four hours—three on a good day—so Basil couldn’t rationalize bringing any of his plants with him. Instead, over the semester, he asked classmates if they wanted to take any. The rest he donated to his school. His grandmother’s plants died long ago with no one to take care of them, so the entire house feels barren and lifeless.
He throws on his favorite playlist and gets to work. Each box comes labeled, words in permanent marker directing him where to go. Simple. Neat. Manageable. He unpacks the way he used to clean his apartment: room by room.
With his sleeves rolled up, bright white petals in full bloom become visible on his wrist. Spring is months away, but for Basil, tulips are always in season.
Basil’s grandfather died before he was born, but his grandmother believed his soul remained in the flowers along her arm. White tulips for a man who spent his days fixing leaky faucets and shoveling snow for his neighbors. His grandmother would laugh and mimic his gruff voice.
“They pay me back in thanks. That’s all I ask.”
Basil’s soulmark resembles his grandmother’s before she met her future husband. It’s a single flower; small, but not fragile. Someday it’ll multiply, but accompanied with the flower on his soulmate’s arm. For his grandmother, it was white egret orchids. They’re fragile and require near-perfect conditions, but in the morning sun, they almost sparkle.
Basil doubts he could ever be an orchid.
Once he finishes packing, Basil collapses on the couch. Outside of his work at the hardware store, he doesn’t do much exercising besides the commute to his apartment, school, and back again. Each breath doesn’t feel like enough. The breeze from outside does little to help his exhaustion, only serving to make him shiver.
Basil groans, but forces himself to get up to close the window. As he does, it’s the first time he gets an eyeful of the front garden. The soil hasn’t been mulched since who knows when. Weeds of both the tall and short variety sap all the nutrients the dirt has to offer. His grandmother was bedridden for at least two years before she died, and Polly doesn’t know much about plant care minus what Basil taught her about succulents one summer.
Tomorrow, he promises. I’ll fix everything tomorrow.
For now, dinner and, hopefully, more than five hours of sleep.
⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘
Basil wakes with the sun, not because of his circadian rhythm, but because his grandmother appears in his dreams for the first time in months.
He stands in her room, watching her shallow breathing as she lies in bed. Neither of them says a word to each other, both are content to share the same space quietly with the limited time they have.
She lifts a shaky hand and brushes a finger against the petals of the white egret orchid sitting on her windowsill as if it’s on a throne. Suddenly the orchid’s leaves turn from light green to green to brown. The petals fall away, disintegrating into the air. Basil reaches out to touch his grandmother as well.
Then she’s gone, too.
Basil sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes. His phone tells him it’s just gone eight A.M. Good enough for him. Fix-It opens at nine.
Luckily, Polly had the foresight to buy cereal rather than just produce and pantry staples. After yesterday’s work, the idea of preparing an actual breakfast seems impossible.
After a slow breakfast, Basil heads out. Since it’s early on a Sunday morning, he walks to Faraway Plaza on his own for the most part. A neighbor walking her dog gives him a semi-confused look as she passes. Must not be a ton of people in town with mint green hair, Basil muses. Back in the city, no one batted an eye. Maybe he should dye it back to his natural color.
Faraway Plaza is the same as it's always been. The stone fountain is full of coins, wishes from kids and adults alike looking for even an ounce of excitement within the town’s small borders. Hobbeez and Gino’s Pizza are still there, unsurprisingly. If people keep having kids and keep wanting pizza, there’s always going to be a demand for their services.
Basil passes the sliding doors for Othermart for the time being. He won’t have the funds to buy groceries until later, considering how much he’s going to need from Fix-It today. He also needs to transfer his medication to the pharmacy before he forgets entirely; he tends to leave his refills until the last minute.
When he enters Fix-It, the owner is sitting on his stool, chin placed in his hand as he stares into space. The shelves are completely mixed up, saws and wrenches placed in the wrong sections. Having worked retail before, Basil understands the struggle of customers not being able to read.
The owner’s head pops up and a look of recognition gradually makes its way onto his face.
“Well, if it isn’t Violet’s grandson,” he says. “Feels like you were a bean sprout when I last saw you. Now you’re a bean pole. How’ve you been, kid?”
Basil smiles. “I’m doing well. You?”
“Could be better, but you know how it is.”
Basil does.
“Well, what can I do for you today?”
“Actually, I’m looking for a job,” Basil says. “I just moved into my grandma’s place and I was hoping you’d have a part-time position open?”
The owner hums and rubs his chin. “I wasn’t exactly looking for a part-timer since I’ve got a boy who helps out from time to time, but you and your grandma have been loyal customers since the damn place opened. You can start next week if you want.”
“That’s perfect.” Basil reaches over to shake the owner’s hand. “Thank you so much.”
The owner chuckles. “No need to thank me. You’ll be doing me a favor. The kid who usually comes in can’t carry anything heavy, so he sticks to organizing the goods up in front. It’ll be nice to have someone else taking care of the back room for once.”
The back room contains all of the plants and gardening supplies. Basil used to spend hours there when his grandmother or Polly needed to run other errands. Sometimes he would sit and talk to the plants, truly believing he was improving their livelihood. His grandmother assured him he was correct. He still believes her.
“I finished up,” a voice says from Basil’s left. He flinches. When did he get there?
“Oh! Speak of the devil,” the owner says, clapping a hand on the other boy’s shoulder. “This here is my other part-timer: Sunny. You’ll probably cross paths from time to time, so don’t be surprised if you see him around.”
For a name like Sunny, his skin is somewhat pale and his eyes are dark, only noticeably brown because Basil is observing him up close. If the boy were a black-and-white picture, he seems like he’d look much the same.
“Nice to meet you,” he says, with a small nod. His expression remains stoic.
“This here is Basil. He’ll be working in the gardening section starting next week.”
Sunny sighs, seemingly relieved. “So I don’t have to carry compost anymore.”
“Oh right,” Basil says, remembering why he came in the first place. “I need to pick up some supplies for my grandmother’s garden. I’ll have to make a few trips so would you mind if I borrowed something to transport it over?”
“I don’t see why not! You can take one of the dollies. I know you’re good for it. Maybe Sunny here can help, eh? Your shift isn’t quite over.”
Sunny looks down. He’s probably looking for a way out of his new predicament.
“It’s fine!” Basil interjects. “It really won’t take long with just me.”
“Hey, Sunny are you done yet?” a voice calls from the doorway. Footsteps approach. “I’m dying to read the new volume of Captain Space—ah!”
Basil turns to the source of the new voice and repeats, “Ah?”
The new person, a boy with shoulder-length hair, points a finger at Basil. “You’re the gardening kid!”
Basil raises an eyebrow and looks between the stranger and the owner. “Umm. Sure?”
“Wait, seriously? You don’t remember me?”
Basil shakes his head.
“You used to hang out at the park sometimes when we were little. You were visiting your grandma or something I think? Anyway, do you remember the little hideaway behind the park? Where the lake is.”
Basil thinks back to the last time he interacted with anyone besides his grandmother and Polly in Faraway Town. He vaguely remembers following around a group of kids one summer, a close-knit group of friends who’d grown up here.
“Wait. Kel?” Basil tries.
“Yeah! Man, it’s been forever. We need to hang out again for old time’s sake, right Sunny?”
Sunny’s face is mostly blank, but a few emotions are forming under the surface. “That’s fine with me.”
“Well, how about helping Basil here with his order?” the owner suggests. “Kel’s got some arm strength, what with him being on the college basketball team and all. What do you say, boys?”
Sunny seems a lot less apprehensive about helping if it means he won’t be carrying the heavy items. Kel is outright chipper. “Sounds good to me! Just let me know what you need.”
Basil blushes and rubs the back of his neck. “That would be helpful. Thanks, guys.”
He tells Kel and Sunny they can wait at the comic book shop while he gathers supplies, but Kel is adamant that they spend as much time catching up as they can. Sunny shrugs, but follows the two of them in the back room without a word.
“So you live in the city, right?” Kel asks.
Basil examines the bags of compost. He’ll need it after he finishes weeding the garden. That and a bag of lightweight mulch. If he can keep the frost at bay, he can start growing tulips and daffodils just in time for spring. “I did. I moved out here, though.”
Kel whistles. “Really? You chose the suburbs over the city? If I had the choice I woulda dipped outta here the second I could. No offense, Sunny.”
“None taken.”
Basil considers telling them the truth but holds back. They don’t need to know the whole story. Negligent parents threatening to take away what amounts to his childhood home usually makes for poor conversation. “Felt a bit bad about my grandma’s garden going to waste. Plus it’s not so bad here. The air is cleaner.”
“When did she die?” Sunny asks.
For a moment Basil thinks he’s kidding. Kel looks just as confused at Sunny’s question. “Remember? It was a couple summers ago. I’m pretty sure my parents took me and Hero to the funeral.”
Sunny looks down. “Oh. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Basil says, genuine.
“But I remember her garden,” Sunny adds. His eyes have softened as if he’s remembering a distant dream. “She liked tulips.”
“Yeah.” Basil absentmindedly rubs his thumb over the tulip on his wrist. “She said they reminded her of my grandpa. Speaking of which…” Basil files through the boxes of seed packets and finds several for white tulips and daffodils. “Thanks for reminding me. I was thinking too much about the soil and almost forgot about the flowers themselves.”
“Woah!” Kel peeks over Basil’s shoulder at the packets. He’s a full head taller so it’s barely a task for him. “You can plant seeds in winter? I thought the flowers would die or something.”
“Most flowers don’t do well with the cold, but these do okay during the winter. Just have to keep an eye on them. At some point, I want to get some celery and onions to plant indoors. Although, I’m not sure if I can make that work. Not really room for planting vegetables in the house.” He browses the seeds more, reading the labels for any other plants he could manage during the winter. “Of course I could try to make a spot in the kitchen, but I don’t know if there’s enough light. What do you think? If I—“
Basil turns around and both Kel and Sunny are giving him surprised expressions.
“Oh. Sorry. I was talking too much. I get kinda carried away and—“
“No, dude, it’s totally cool,” Kel interrupts. “I’ve never seen someone talk about plants that way. Maybe my parents will let me start a garden in the backyard, too.”
“Umm.” Sunny clears his throat. “There’s a greenhouse at the university. I don’t know if non-students are allowed, but maybe you can ask if you can grow vegetables there.”
Basil grows giddy, his heart swelling at the idea of a new greenhouse to work in. The worst part of moving was leaving all his plants behind. “I’m actually starting there next week. I’m a botany major.”
Kel grins. “Oh, sweet, so we’re all going to the same school!”
“Sounds like it.”
Basil gathers the rest of his supplies, buying new gloves while he’s at it. His pair have been getting ratty. Kel grabs one of the industrial dollies and they make their way to Basil’s house. Kel explains how he’s at Faraway University on a basketball scholarship. Unlike everyone else in his life, he has no idea what he wants to study.
“What about you, Sunny?” Basil asks.
Sunny looks half-dazed when he tunes back into the conversation. “Hmm?”
“What are you majoring in?”
“Oh. Art.”
Kel slings an arm around Sunny’s shoulder, earning a noise of protest from the latter when he almost trips. “Sunny here is a damn savant, I’m telling ya. He’s got a couple of paintings hanging up in the art building. You should drop by when you get the chance.”
“They’re not that big of a deal,” Sunny grumbles, the tips of his ears turning red.
“Not that big of a deal?! Dude there are like three people in your entire department that have their work showcased right now and you’re one of them. You should give yourself more cre—mmph!”
Kel struggles against Sunny’s hand which now covers his mouth, but he’s unable. Even when he licks Sunny’s hand, Sunny doesn’t budge.
Basil laughs. They’re almost like a comedy duo with the way they act. No wonder they’ve been friends for so long.
Maybe they’ll be yours, too, he hopes.
They arrive at Basil’s house and help him bring all the supplies to the shed in the far back of the yard.
“Careful,” Basil warns. “I haven’t checked it so there might be spiders.”
Sunny immediately steps back. “I’ll…wait over here.”
Kel doesn’t mind at all, even going so far as to try identifying the types of spiders he can see. Basil lets him know whether he’s correct or not. He’s more than acquainted with all the spiders that roam his grandmother’s garden.
Once it’s all put away, the three boys all take deep breaths, each in different states of exhaustion.
“Alright. Time to take the cart back. Gotta pick up that copy of Captain Space Boy before it closes.” Kel looks at Basil hopefully. “Wanna come with?”
As much as Basil appreciates being included, the amount of work he has to do on the garden plus the concept of socializing with strangers has him balking. “Not this time, but I’ll see you at school?”
“You betcha! Come on, Sunny, Sweetheart awaits!”
Kel rushes down the sidewalk with the dolly, jumping on the back and letting the momentum carry him back toward Faraway Plaza. Sunny scratches the back of his head and Basil can make out a bit of yellow petal on his wrist. It’s not enough for Basil to identify the flower type.
“I guess I’ll get going,” Sunny says.
“Alright! Thanks again for helping. I know you kinda got roped into it.”
Sunny looks up in thought. “I didn’t really mind, though.”
Basil’s not sure how to interpret such a neutral statement.
Sunny gives one more wave goodbye, stuffs his hands into his pockets, and follows in Kel’s wake.
Suddenly, Basil has two new people to potentially eat lunch with. Two more people to complain to about coursework and how his garden is progressing. Two new people to miss when he’s sick and can’t make it to class.
This time? Maybe they’ll miss him back.