I could feel Atlas staring at me when he asked, “A reward for what?”
I shrugged. “For loving my plants the right way. Plants reward you based on the amount of love you show them. If you’re cruel to them or neglect them, they give you nothing. But if you care for them and love them the right way, they reward you with gifts in the form of vegetables or fruits or flowers.” I looked down at the weed I was tearing apart in my hands and there was barely an inch left of it. I wadded it up between my fingers and flicked it.
I didn’t want to look over at Atlas because I could still feel him staring, so instead, I just stared out over my mulch-covered garden.
“We’re just alike,” he said.
My eyes flicked to his. “Me and you?”
He shook his head. “No. Plants and humans. Plants need to be loved the right way in order to survive. So do humans. We rely on our parents from birth to love us enough to keep us alive. And if our parents show us the right kind of love, we turn out as better humans overall. But if we’re neglected . . .”
His voice grew quiet. Almost sad. He wiped his hands on his knees, trying to get some of the dirt off. “If we’re neglected, we end up homeless and incapable of anything meaningful.”
His words made my heart feel like the mulch he had just laid out. I didn’t even know what to say to that. Does he really think that about himself?
He acted like he was about to get up, but before he did I said his name.
He sat back down in the grass. I pointed at the row of trees that lined the fence to the left of the yard. “You see that tree over there?” In the middle of the row of trees was an oak tree that stood taller than all the rest of the trees.
Atlas glanced over at it and dragged his eyes all the way up to the top of the tree.
“It grew on its own,” I said. “Most plants do need a lot of care to survive. But some things, like trees, are strong enough to do it by just relying on themselves and nobody else.”
I had no idea if he knew what I was trying to say without me coming out and saying it. But I just wanted him to know that I thought he was strong enough to survive whatever was going on in his life. I didn’t know him well, but I could tell he was resilient. Way more than I would ever be if I were in his situation.
His eyes were glued to the tree. It was a long time before he even blinked. When he finally did, he just nodded a little and looked down at the grass. I thought with the way his mouth twitched that he was about to frown, but instead he actually smiled a little.
Seeing that smile made my heart feel like I had just startled it right out of a dead sleep.
“We’re just alike,” he said, repeating himself from earlier.
“Plants and humans?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No. Me and you.”
I gasped, Ellen. I hope he didn’t notice, but I definitely sucked in a rush of air. Because what the heck was I supposed to say to that?
I just sat there, really awkward and quiet until he stood up. He turned like he was about to walk home.
“Atlas, wait.”
He glanced back down at me. I pointed at his hands and said, “You might want to take a quick shower before you go back. Compost is made from cow manure.”
He lifted his hands and looked down at them and then he looked down at his compost-covered clothes.
“Cow manure? Seriously?”
I grinned and nodded. He laughed a little and then before I knew it, he was on the ground next to me, wiping his hands all over me. We were both laughing as he reached to the bag next to us and stuck his hand inside, then smeared it down my arms.
Ellen, I am confident that the next sentence I am about to write has never been written or spoken aloud before.
When he was wiping that cow shit on me, it was quite possibly the most turned-on I have ever been.
After a few minutes, we were both lying on the ground, breathing hard, still laughing. He finally stood up and pulled me to my feet, knowing he couldn’t waste minutes if he wanted a shower before my parents came home.
Once he was in the shower, I washed my hands in the sink and just stood there, wondering what he meant earlier when he said we were just alike.
Was it a compliment? It sure felt like one. Was he saying that he thought I was strong, too? Because I certainly didn’t feel strong most of the time. In that moment, just thinking about him made me feel weak. I wondered what I was going to do about the way I was starting to feel when I was around him.
I also wondered how long I can keep hiding him from my parents. And how long he’ll be staying at that house. Winters in Maine are unbearably cold and he won’t survive without a heater.
Or blankets.
I gathered myself and went in search of all the spare blankets I could find. I was going to give them to him when he got out of the shower, but it was already five and he left in a hurry.
I’ll give them to him tomorrow.
—Lily
Dear Ellen,
Harry Connick Jr. is freaking hilarious. I’m not sure if you’ve ever had him on your show, because I hate to admit I’ve probably missed an episode or two since you’ve been on the air, but if you’ve never had him, you should. Actually, have you ever watched Late Night with Conan O’Brien? He has this guy named Andy who sits on the couch for every episode. I wish Harry could sit on your couch for every episode. He just has the best one-liners, and the two of you toget.her would be epic.
I just want to say thank you. I know that you don’t have a show on TV for the sole purpose of making me laugh, but sometimes it feels that way. Sometimes my life just makes me feel like I’ve lost the ability to laugh or smile, but then I turn on your show and no matter what mood I’m in when I turn on the TV, I always feel better by the time your show is over.
So yeah. Thanks for that.
I know you probably want an update on Atlas, and I’ll give you one in a second. But first I need to tell you about what happened yesterday.
My mother is a teaching assistant over at Brimer Elementary. It’s a bit of a drive and that’s why she never gets home until around five o’clock. My dad works two miles from here, so he’s always home right after five.
We have a garage, but only one car can fit in it because of all my dad’s stuff. My dad keeps his car in the garage and my mom keeps her car in the driveway.
Well, yesterday my mom got home a little bit early. Atlas was still at the house and we were almost finished watching your show when I heard the garage door start to open. He ran out the back door and I rushed around the living room cleaning up our soda cans and snacks.
It had started snowing really hard around lunchtime yesterday and my mother had a lot of stuff to carry in, so she pulled up in the garage so she could bring it all in through the kitchen door. It was work stuff and a few groceries. I was helping her bring everything inside when my dad pulled up in the driveway. He started honking his horn because he was mad that my mom was parked in the garage. I guess he didn’t want to have to get out of his car in the snow. That’s the only thing I can think of that would make him want her to move her car right then and there, instead of just waiting until she was finished unloading it. Come to think of it, why does my father always get the garage? You would think a man wouldn’t want the woman he loves to get the shittier parking spot.