Another short-short story
"Trevor!" I yelled.
My sister and my niece who
were just coming through the door looked around startled. As if they expected
to see Neville Longbottom's toad jumping at them. They had promised me a plant
for my birthday and I was so excited to see it.
I had read up on plants - how
you should name them and talk to them like persons. I hadn't given a thought to
the name I would choose until I saw the plant in my sister's hands. It was
definitely a Trevor.
It was frondy and curley-cued, some kind of plant which I
didn't recognize, but I fell in love at once. I measured its water and plant
food carefully and moved it around on the terrace until I found the spot it
seemed to like best. Many evenings, while I relaxed with a cup of tea, Trevor listened to my woes from work, or problems
with my other love. Trevor became my best friend.
For a few months Trevor thrived, loving my attention, then
disaster struck. Trevor began to look droopy. Some leaves curled up, grew brown
and fell off. I was beside myself. What could be wrong with my Trevor? I tried this and that. No Internet search helped.
My boyfriend (who I think was jealous of the attention I gave Trevor) said that maybe I had misnamed the plant, and it was not a boy
plant but a girl plant. We had a nearly relationship-ending conversation about
this. All plants have to be girls, he said, since they could reproduce other
plants. He suggested that I rename my plant Trevilla or Trevina and it would recuperate. I slammed the
door behind him.
But, next day, he brought his friend who was a horticulturalist. He pruned Trevor severely, (I could
barely watch) and revealed two new plants growing out of his roots. Some plants
he explained, die down to make room for their offspring. I think my boyfriend
had told him of my obsession; they both had sly grins on their faces.
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