plants
Ruby tugged the strap of her tote bag higher on her shoulder as she stepped out onto the cracked sidewalk. The chill of a March afternoon nipped at her cheeks, but the sun was out, and it felt like the first time it hadn't been hidden behind clouds in days. Her list of errands was mostly checked off, but this was the stop she had been looking forward to the most: the plant store.
The subway ride over was a blur of screeching wheels and muffled announcements. Ruby gripped the pole tightly, her mind wandering to the little apartment she was trying to make feel like home. There were a couple shelves built into the wall between the living room and kitchen, and it would take more than the books she had brought to fill them up. Her mom had always told her that you could tell a lot about a person by their bookshelves. Ruby figured if that were true, anyone looking at her place right now would think she was a ghost of herself, caught in some strange in-between.
When she stepped into the warmth of the plant store, the scent of damp soil and greenery wrapped around her like a hug. The small bell above the door jingled softly, and she couldn't help but pause to take it all in. Rows of leafy greens filled every available space, their vibrant tones a welcome contrast to the gray, gritty city streets outside. Fiddle-leaf figs towered near the back, philodendron vines spilled over shelves, and succulents clustered in neat rows by the register. The sound of pop music played softly overhead, mingling with the faint chatter of other customers.
Ruby's eyes scanned the room, her heart lifting as she recognized a familiar shape among the sea of plants. A peace lily sat on a low table near the corner, its elegant white flowers reaching upward like tiny sails. Her chest tightened. Her mom had always kept a peace lily on the windowsill in their living room.
"It's easy to take care of," her mom used to say. "And it'll let you know when it needs something. Just keep the soil damp, and it'll thrive."
Ruby swallowed hard, her fingers brushing against one of the plant's glossy leaves. She hadn't thought about that peace lily in years, not since the last time she had seen it in her mom's house.
She let her hand drop and stepped back, her chest heavy with the memory. Not this time. She wasn't looking to bring the past into her new life. As much as she loved the peace lily, she wanted something that felt like a fresh start—a plant that symbolized where she was now, not where she'd been.
Further down the aisle, her eyes landed on a bright and cheerful rubber plant. Its deep green, waxy leaves had a subtle shine. She smiled softly, drawn to its sturdy, lively presence. It felt like the right choice—a plant that thrived quietly, growing stronger over time.
As she made her way through the store, she picked out a couple of smaller plants to join her new purchase: a pothos with long trailing vines, and a tiny jade plant she couldn't resist. By the time she reached the register, her arms were full, and her heart felt lighter than it had in weeks.
As she left the small shop, she barely felt the cold air on her face. She had a soft smile on her face as she looked down at the box containing her plants, more excited than ever to be back at her new apartment.
Back at the apartment building, Ruby stepped into the old elevator, sighing as she leaned against the wall. She had one hand supporting the weight of the box full of plants, the other gripping the tote slung over her shoulder. The ride to her floor was usually short, but even then, the thought of being stuck in the shaky contraption made her stomach twist. She tapped her fingers on the box to find something to do with her excess of energy.
Just as the door began to close, a rough hand shot through the gap, forcing it back open with a groan of the mechanisms. She flinched, her heart leaping into her throat as she pressed herself into the corner, shrinking as far away from the door as possible.
The figure stepped inside, broad-shouldered and imposing. Her pulse pounded in her ears until her eyes caught the familiar set of his jaw, the new bruise on his cheek, and the heavy duffle bag she had heard about slung over his shoulder. Her neighbor.
Her shoulders loosened just slightly, though her back remained pressed against the wall.
He glanced at her, his expression unreadable as usual. He gave a slight nod, more acknowledgment than greeting, before leaning himself against the metal wall opposite of her. She saw him eye the box of plants she held. If she didn't know any better, the motion he made to grab the strap on his shoulder looked like his original aim was the box.
The elevator jolted, starting its slow ascent.
She tried not to look at the duffel bag out of the corner of her eye as the old lady's words jumped to the forefront of her mind. It looked awfully heavy the way the fabric strained at the seams, but he seemed to have no problem handling the weight. She watched his knuckles tense around the strap on his shoulder and wondered what he could be carrying around in there. She started tapping her fingers again in thought.
She was studying the way he flexed the hand at his side into a fist and relaxing it again when a screech pierced through the small space, and the elevator lurched to a halt. The lights flickered once, twice, then buzzed before going out completely.
Ruby's breath hitched audibly. Her hand left the bag strap on her shoulder and gripped the box tightly, her knuckles whitening as the confined space seemed to shrink around her. Her mind raced, heart thundering as she tried to steady her breathing.
The man noticed her shifting uneasily, her body stiff as her gaze darted toward the ceiling. He kept his posture relaxed, his movements slow and deliberate as he turned to face the control panel.
"This stupid thing's just old. Happens all the time," he said, holding his hand out to reassure her.
Her eyes flicked to him, uncertain.
His face completely blank of emotion, he directed, "Watch."
He pressed the button for their floor again, firm but steady. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the elevator gave another groan, shaking slightly before jerking back to life. The lights made more strained buzzing sounds as they brightened back up.
Ruby exhaled shakily, her grip on her small cargo loosening just a fraction. Without realizing it, she'd taken a small step closer to him during the momentary crisis.
He glanced down at her, his dark eyes catching the subtle change in her stance. She still looked wary, but there was something else there— maybe even gratitude, which he almost mistook for trust.
He didn't say anything, just turned his gaze back to the flickering numbers on the panel as the elevator crawled toward their floor.
When the door finally creaked opened, she moved quickly, stepping into the hallway with quiet relief. He followed, his stride unhurried as he made his way to his door further down the hall.
As she fumbled for her keys, she paused, glancing back at him.
Ruby had to clear her throat for her voice to find purchase so she could say, "Thanks... for staying calm back there."
He stopped, his hand resting on his doorknob. He turned his head slightly, meeting her eyes.
"No need to thank me."
She hesitated, then nodded, retreating into her apartment. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving him standing in the hallway for a moment longer. He glanced at the elevator, the corner of his mouth tightening briefly, then stepped inside his own apartment without a sound.
Ruby placed the rubber plant on the windowsill. The green leaves and light blue speckled pot were a much needed addition of color in the otherwise beige space. She set the other two plants around the apartment—the pothos on the kitchen counter, and jade plant on the small table in the living room. As she stepped back to take it all in, a soft smile spread across her face.
For the first time since she'd moved, the apartment felt a little less empty. A little more hers. And as the rubber plant stood tall in the sunlight, Ruby felt something she hadn't in a long time: optimistic.