James

She finished her paperwork and submitted it to the clerk at the front desk. Shifting her purse to the other shoulder, she turned to Dr. Heathrow and asked "Where do I meet James?"

"You'll meet him in the nursery," the doctor replied. "My guess is he's already there pruning the roses. He really likes wild roses."
Dr. Heathrow smiled to herself. She shuffled through the papers a moment and then added, "Down the hall to the right. You'll see the morning light diffusing through the dirty glass. He'll be the only one in there at this hour."

She headed toward the nursery wondering about this James. What would make him drink himself stupid and then careen through a mall? How does he deal with the guilt? Does he even feel shame or remorse for what he's done? Based upon the doctor's comments, James didn't sound all that scary, all that demented. Maybe people just misunderstood him, his intentions, just like people misunderstood her all the time. She smiled inwardly.

At the end of the hallway, she observed morning sunshine penetrating a set of opaque glass doors. Behind them she could see a figure moving about in the haze and humidity. She watched a moment, transfixed by the beauty in the grime. She could see brilliant oranges, reds, purples, yellows, pinks spilling through the glass despite the handprints and density of age. The greens played polka dots around the colors as they danced about the retro glass. It was nearly psychadelic, like a good trip. How appropriate, she thought. She pushed the doors open and walked into the early day fog.

"Good morning," she called into the mist.
No response. She could hear only the sound of a sprayer emitting soft drops.
"James?" she added.
Again nothing. At the end of a row of hyacinths and geraniums, she spotted him again showering the baby plants with a small hose.

"Are you James?" she spoke as she moved toward the man hunched over the plants.

"What? Oh hello. I wasn't paying any attention. Who are you? What are you doing here in my spot?" he asked, half casually, half accusingly.

"Dr. Heathrow sent me down here to help you. I think she wants us to talk and I think she also wants to put me to work," she said warmly hoping he'd respond favorably.

"I see, community service it is then. You can fill pots with fresh soil. I have bulbs I want to plant before the frost" he gestured outside to a small patch of barren dirt.

"I don't really see a need to talk much," he added. "I keep to myself and no, I don't want to talk about what happened at the mall. Don't even ask me."

Well this wasn't working out quite right. She squatted next to the pots and began digging out soil with a trowel she found nearby. She watched as James delicately spritzed the leaves of a ficus in the corner. It was as if they were his children, his only loves. He seemed to gaze adoringly at their leaves, their structures. He appeared to be studying them while also silently worshipping them too.

James wore what looked like an old pair of designer jeans, maybe Polo or Calvin Klein. They were frayed at the cuffs. His plaid shirt was covered by a bright orange sweater. She noticed a small hole in the back. His square glasses tipped on his nose as he leaned forward, a stray hair or two falling with them. His brown locks were near perfectly place save those few that escaped over his brow. He worked slowly and deliberately, his body knowing it had all the time in the universe with the foliage.

How beautiful it would be to have this kind of time, she thought to herself as she filled pots.

He turned to her. "You're making a mess. Look at that!"
Startled, she looked around her. She'd spilled a clump of soil on the ground. He rushed to her, grabbed a nearby hand broom and dust pan and swept it up nimbly.
"Try to keep it in the pot, okay? I don't like mess."
He frowned and went back to the ficus tree. She sat there almost hurt by the curt reprimand.
If he weren't in the crazy house, she might just feel badly about it.

As she continued to spoon soil, her mind floated upwards and out to another time when she knew a garden. Her thoughts drifted to rows of corn, sunflowers, tomatos, kalarabi, beans, carrots, and lettuces. And for a moment she wanted to shed a tear for all of the growth and memory though her heart smiled at what once was before.