Something I Don't Know

12: seriously, do not touch the damn plant

It's River's day off, and God knows the last thing I would want to do on a day off is answer someone's call to come stare at a plant, but this is River de Santos, everybody, and he treats plants like people treat puppies.

He arrives approximately twenty minutes after I called him—though, I suppose, Safiya took over our conversation two seconds in—wearing a loose-fitting Hawaiian shirt over a sweater, which I decide not to comment on, no matter how atrocious I find it. There's also a clip in his wild black hair, keeping his bangs out of his face, and he's chewing on a vegan protein bar.

The nerve of some people.

Safiya's reclined on her futon, still enough that I figure she's either dead (again) or sleeping when I open the door for River, who gives me an appraising look and a "Hey, Grey," before stepping into the apartment.

Safiya, however, bolts up at the sound of his voice. "Oh, thank God."

A side of River's mouth pulls up. I think it's the first time I've ever seen him smirk. "I don't think you've ever been so happy to see me, Safiya."

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it," she says, then hops to her feet, snapping her fingers as a way of signaling us to follow her.

River casts a glance at me, standing idly in the kitchen, and then at Jamie, fumbling with the coffee machine. Taking a bite of his protein bar, he asks, "How bad is it?"

I snatch the protein bar away, and, disgusted by its veganness, toss it to the ground. River regards the smashed snack almost mournfully, but doesn't move to retrieve it. "That's what you're here for," I say, shoving him in the direction of the hall. I add, "Let's go," which is equal parts directed at him and at Jamie.

The plant was already so massive the first time I laid eyes on it that it's hard to tell if it's gotten any worse. I keep blinking, thinking it will go away, shrink back into its original pot and be a happy, good little plant, but no matter how many times I blink, it's still there.

River inhales sharply, and I watch his eyes search the room. "Jesus," he says. "How did..."

"I bought it from some lady at a flea market," Safiya snaps, like she doesn't want to get into it. "She said it would brighten the room."

Jamie gestures toward the windows, which are crawling with green, heavily leafed vines. "But it's actually, you know, darkening it."

Safiya thwacks him in the side of the head; he lets out a small whine. "Yeah, I can see that, thanks."

River steps further into Safiya's bedroom, one of the vines squealing underneath his shoe as he inadvertently crushes it. He jolts, and there's almost this look of mourning on his face, like he's sorry he hurt the thing. I can't with him. I just can't.

"So?" I ask, and it must have come out as sharply as I intended, for River snaps his head over his shoulder to look at me. "What is it? More importantly, how do we fix it?"

River pauses another moment to cast his gaze about the room, then folds his arms across his chest, wrinkling his Hawaiian shirt. "It's a curse if I've ever seen one," he says, and beside me, Safiya slaps a hand to her face. "An old, old one, originating from the Incan layqa, if I'm right."

Safiya does not lift her face from her palm, even as swathes of dark hair fall around it. "I swear to God, River—I do not care where the curse came from, I just want it gone!"

River appraises the plant-gone-wild a last time before carefully trekking his way back to the doorway. He adjusts the clip in his hair, letting his arms uncross. "Well, we're gonna need a witch for that."