[Issue 2024.69]

‘Space Gardens’, L.J. Lacey

Art © 2024 L.E. Badillo

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Rita swept the small porch for a third or fourth time, glancing up to scan the rocky landscape for Ana’s ambling form. It had been an unsettling day and Ana’s absence only added to Rita’s feeling that things were off. Seeing nothing but the setting sun spreading a glow across the mountainside, Rita sighed and made the “ssspppss” sound that let the cats know dinner was ready. She kept the broom handy in case Vali was lurking about and gave a stern look to the small pack of dogs lazing in front of the house. A few rumbles of annoyance emerged from the dogs at the feline swarm taking over the side of the house, but they had already been fed and were content to stay put. For their part, the cats offered some mews of thanks and occasional hisses of warning to one another.

As they dined, Rita let the mountain breeze wash over her, enjoying its caresses and trying not to worry about Ana. As cows went, Ana was smart and most likely just enjoying a lush grazing spot. The days were getting warmer and the small wind gusts were very welcome. Rita’s gaze skimmed over the gardens surrounding her home, and the familiar sense of accomplishment settled over her. The phrase “riot of color” jumped into her mind, but Rita shoved it away. She hated the phrase. She had experienced too many actual riots in which people’s lives were at stake. No, she chose to think of the gardens as a festival of color. Nearly everything was growing well despite the hot weather and rocky soil, especially the vegetables. Each success was the result of a lifetime of aggregated knowledge. Looking at her gardens reminded Rita that, thanks to her life’s work, there were fresh vegetables and fruits growing all over the world in places where they might never have grown without her intervention, or at least without the knowledge she provided so others could intervene.

After the cats slipped away, Rita called for Ana one more time, but only half-heartedly. Giving up for the time being, she went into the small house to have her own meal. Seedlings, cuttings, and vines covered most surfaces and hung haphazardly throughout Rita’s home, making it seem more like an extension of the outdoors than an enclosed space. She had to find room for some sprouts by a window in order to clear an area to have her own evening meal. Finally, she spooned some of the vegetable stew she had warming on the stove into her favorite bowl, the one with the subtle painting of ricegrass around the perimeter. Vali’s eager monkey form materialized the moment Rita sat down.

She looked at him, and he looked right back.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen Ana, have you?” The langur’s dark face betrayed nothing but hopeful hunger. He would have to wait, just as she was waiting for Ana.

As she ate, Rita remembered how impatient she used to be. During her youth, she had waited eagerly for the chance to leave home and see the world. Then, she had spent years training and waiting to leave the world itself. But that had never happened. Changing weather patterns had made parts of Earth seem like another planet, and Rita had put her training in extreme environments agriculture to good use here at home. A jealous colleague early in Rita’s career, whose name and face were long forgotten, had dubbed her particular approach “space gardening” in an attempt to make fun of the premises underlying her work, and she had kept the name for herself. Gardens were not the norm when she began her work; large-scale agribusiness even now held some so-called patents on seeds. It had taken severe droughts, floods, fires, and famines, as well as the diligent work of activists and scientists like Rita, to turn the tide. The various small-scale contraptions Rita had worked with others to develop in order to filter polluted air and water around the gardens gave them a technological appearance, sometimes recalling images of old science fiction or early space-age art. So, Rita embraced the moniker of “space gardens” when it became clear that despite her years of work, the reality was that space travel could only be for the elite, and she wanted to help the people who needed help the most.

In a way, that time working in the labs and fields had also been about waiting, waiting for love, for a family, for her life to round itself out. These many years later, her life was plump with experience and smoothly worn by marriage and widowhood, children and their leavings, and a long and productive career ended by choice. Rita knew now that waiting was a way to escape dealing with the present. By focusing on the next thing, always thinking about the future, Rita had spent much of her life pushing past the small moments that, ultimately, made up a life. She hoped she had learned better by now.

Absently, Rita fed pieces of the stew (or “mishmash,” as her husband would have called it) in her bowl to Vali, who knew not to make a fuss as long as he was getting fed. Rita’s mind returned to her conversation with Hardik at the store that morning. She couldn’t avoid reliving it any longer, so she let herself remember. He had seemed oddly nervous when she arrived to pick up her weekly supplies. Without thinking, Rita had responded to her old friend’s tension.

“Hardik, are you well?”

That was really when everything went wrong. In the years Rita had been going to Hardik’s store, the two of them had maintained a careful distance. They spoke of a few specific things: their children, the weather, the stupidity of politicians, and, increasingly, the aches and pains of aging. Those conversations were cornerstones of Rita’s weeks. Never having been happy with the idea of lying to herself, Rita also knew that talking with Hardik brought a sharpness into her life. There was a pull between them that neither acknowledged but both enjoyed. The way Hardik looked at Rita, the small excuses he found to stand close to her, the beauty and sadness of his parting smile each week, all of these had become dear to Rita. She loved those few moments of feeling wanted, desired. Her body gave her so few pleasures now. But for all those years Rita had been careful never to let her enjoyment of Hardik’s proximity turn into anything more than that weekly conversation.

There were times when she was viciously tempted to reach out a hand, to touch his bare arm and see what happened. But she never did. And there were other times when she convinced herself that the entire thing was just in her mind. He had never really said or done anything to warrant her belief in his attraction to her. Those were bad days, though, and Rita had come to an understanding with herself. She would enjoy her talks with Hardik and feel every moment of them, and then she would leave his store and not think about him again until the following week.

That system had worked well for her for years, but no longer. This morning Hardik had looked up at her and sighed.

“Yes, Rita, I am well. But I do have something on my mind. I have made a decision that I believe to be correct, but one of the consequences I find to be terribly painful.”

“Ah, well. At this stage of life we both know that nothing is simple, least of all correct choices. Can I help in some way?”

He looked at her in an assessing way that made Rita uncomfortable. “Perhaps.”

Disliking the feeling of being pinned by his gaze, Rita responded quickly, “Well, how?”

“I have decided to leave.”

Stifling whatever noise was trying to climb up and out of her, Rita carefully blanked her face and stared at Hardik.

He produced another deflating sigh, and explained, “My eldest really needs help with his children, and you know I would love to be with them. Besides, I am ready to spend my days someplace other than behind this counter.”

Hardik looked down at the counter in front of him. Rita stayed carefully still.

“You see, Rita,” Hardik’s voice was low and intense now, “I will miss you. I will miss you very much.”

Rita knew this was one of those moments that did not come back. In a long life there were many chances, but eventually things ended. Right now, Rita had to make another choice that would lead to an ending. She forced herself to continue looking straight at Hardik as she spoke.

“You will be happy and comfortable with your family, Hardik. I wish you all the joy you deserve.”

Hardik looked up from the counter, meeting her gaze.

Clearing his throat to break the silence, Hardik went on to speak in an even tone. “I am selling the store to a very responsible family who will fulfill all of the standing orders. They will be here by the time you come back next week, and they will have everything ready for you.”

For a small moment, Rita considered asking him to stay, to stay with her in her gardens, but her mind conjured an image of Hardik taking up the space in her small cottage. It would have to be this way. She smiled at him, silently hoping he might understand. She thought he must.

The only sign that anything significant had passed between them was the way Hardik grabbed her hand and held it for a long moment before she left the store.

Releasing the memory with shrug of her shoulders, Rita rose to clean the dishes and wipe up. She would miss him; she could already feel the loss reshaping her days. But she had long practice with loss.

At her departure from the table, Vali glanced around, saw there was no food left, and scampered out for the night. “Good night to you, too, ingrate,” Rita called with a small smile. She went back out to the porch where night was descending in earnest. There were a few lights scattered about the mountainside belonging to the other homes. Still no sign of Ana.

It was hard not to worry. Ana had never failed to return home at the end of the day before. Rita decided to do something constructive while she waited. Although she had retired years ago, her expertise was still relevant and valued. Helping others sort through their crop problems kept Rita’s mind busy with the kinds of puzzles she loved to solve. As she went into her messages, though, she was drawn to those from family rather than from colleagues. She considered calling one of her children to see them, or even to catch a glimpse of a grandchild. It would have been simple to contact one of her sons; they were both in nearby time zones. But she didn’t really want to talk to them. It galled her that her own children could be so predictably gendered in their thinking, but her sons worried too much about her being alone. Her daughters were better to talk to, but Tasha had another couple of weeks to serve on the marine purification vessel, and Kyra was busy with the new baby. No, it was better just to watch their latest posts.

Paul’s account of his daughter’s attempts to manipulate him into buying her a robopup made Rita smile, and she laughed outright as she watched Kyra demonstrate Rita’s newest grandchild’s ability to smile. It was gas, of course, but still so lovely. She sent a quick message to say that the baby was clearly a genius. Tasha was her usual confident self, demonstrating how much her team had accomplished in their efforts to restore aquatic habitats in the Indian Ocean. Taz had posted stills of his latest hike, including images of some of Rita’s own space gardens in the Andes. He really was a dear boy.

Shutting down her screen, Rita felt renewed. Choosing to live here on her own had been a somewhat defiant act. She loved her mountain home and her beautiful space gardens. She had the company of any number of animals, and, until now, she had had her weekly conversations with Hardik. She would be fine without them. There were reasons why she didn’t take in any of the dogs or cats she fed, unless they really needed her help. They visited her and she welcomed them, but that was all. Sometimes she longed for cuddles from those grandchildren in the vids, and on bad nights she would try and try to remember the touch of her long dead husband, but she had earned this time to herself and mostly she embraced it.

As she stood to change her clothing for the night, Rita heard something outside and eagerly opened the door. Ana looked up at her from where she lay, comfortably organized, in the front yard.

© 2024 L.J. Lacey

[Issue 2024.69]

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