Midnight Philodendron

II. Oiled Ferns

It was very uncommon for Shona Tsosie to wear her hair down. Even a loose ponytail was unusual for her. It made her feel vulnerable, letting her hair fly loose. Most days she kept it wrapped, and occasionally it would be braided, but very rarely would she wear it down or loose.

Today was a day for vulnerability. Or atleast, a little.

Shona had awoken that morning with a headache. The braids that she had fallen asleep wearing the night before were tight, and pulled at her scalp when she rose from bed. Instinctively, she reached her hands up to loosen her long, thick hair from its styling. It fell onto her shoulders in loose, soft, lightly tangled waves which she pulled back into a low ponytail behind her head. Ordinarily she would take a moment to then wrap her ponytail in ribbon, or pull it into a bun, but this was not a motivated morning.

Shona lifted herself out of bed begrudgingly after seeing the sun rising and illuminating her windows. The light bounced off of the many plants in her room, which eagerly drank in the light. She believed in rising with the sun, but damn if it wasn't hard to do some mornings. She glanced around the room and rolled up the sleeves of her night robe to plunge her fingers into the dirt of the nearest pot to see what needed to be watered.

Right beside her bed, Shona kept a massive palm philodendron, one which seemed to take up an entire corner of her room, with its long arms and wide leaves. It was her pride and joy, and she had two other significantly smaller palms whom she was hoping to nurse to that size. None of the philodendrons needed water this morning, but her Drama Queen was looking a little peckish. It's scientific name was the papaver hybridum, but this morning it was drooping desperately, so Drama Queen it would be called. She never had to check the dirt of that plant, by it's nature it would let her know the moment it needed water by hopelessly curling it's leaves and practically falling over. That plant she watered first before lightly spritzing her moss garden. Shona looked at her pothos ivy for a moment, but turned her head towards the door when she remembered it had been watered just the day before.

She felt like she was in a rut, and the usual cure for that was taking in a sad, drooping plant to take care of. She had heard that there were some depressed ferns at the store her friend regularly shopped at, so Shona made up her mind to take one in. It was a cold season, and getting colder by the day, so she had no doubts that the ferns would appreciate her warm plant room, where she could keep them from freezing.

She had a green thumb, a natural knack for keeping plants alive and well. Or maybe she simply needed something to project her attention and devotion on to in a quiet, confusing world.

Shona slipped into some leggings and tossed on a grey hoodie - her favorite invisibility cloak. She wasn't fond of attention, and there was just something about a grey hoodie that seemed to divert attention away from her. She needed a quick trip, a fast distraction, a swift fern rescue operation that involved as little interaction with the people in town as possible.

Shona was a Navajo woman, she had spent most of her life on the Rez, and though she had moved out a few years ago, it was hard adjusting sometimes. She appreciated her modern little cottage, running water, and easy access to gas and groceries, but it was trickier getting used to the people. Moving away from everything she knew had taken its toll, but she would have to work around her awkwardness and insecurities in order to thrive. More importantly, she would need to embrace her surroundings if she wanted to get that fern.

Before she stepped out of the door, Shona slipped on the turquoise necklace she wore everywhere. It had been her grandfather's, and since his passing she rarely took it off. It was a token of luck for her and she rarely felt comfortable without it.

Her mind was filled with memories as she drove to the store her friend had recommended.

She was on a mission, making her way swiftly to the back of the store, where plants were usually kept. It was early, so the store was relatively empty save for a few employees, so it truly caught Shona off-guard when she bumped into a half-asleep man in the aisle.

The large, plastic jar he'd been holding fell to the floor and landed on her toe with an awful crunch and Shona fell to the floor instantly to clutch her foot. A string of profanity flew from her mouth before she'd even realized what happened. She turned her head upwards, to apologize for running into the man or gauge his reaction to all of this, but he would hardly look at her as he bent down to pick up the jar off of her foot.

The man was clearly embarrassed, and uneasily brought his eyes up to meet hers. He finally stared at her and blinked in surprise, as if the eye contact had woken him up from a dream, and she was the sun warming his face. His bronze skin turned beet red and he stumbled over his words as he went to apologize.

He wouldn't take his eyes off of hers, and Shona turned her head away, uncomfortable with his eye contact. His eyes seemed to ask questions about her soul that she didn't even know if she had answers to, and his deep probing, apologetic gaze felt like lead dripping onto her head.

She stood hastily, despite the pain in her foot, and went to call out an apology.

"I'm sorry, I should've looked where I was—"

"So sorry miss, I was hardly awake, I didn't see you before—"

They spoke at the same time, talking over the other in their eagerness to apologize. Shona couldn't help but meet his eyes for a second before laughing at the situation. He was every bit as uncomfortable as she was it would seem. He rose up to meet her, clutching his jar like one would a precious vase that was prone to slipping.

He smiled in relief as she laughed, though he also looked a little confused, unsure if the laugh was good or bad. A silent moment lasted between them, and Shona took the chance to excuse herself and head towards the plants.

At the end of the aisle she stopped to look back at the stranger for a moment, watching him with the faintest of curiosity. But only for a moment.