Poinsettia Lane

Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

TOWARD THE END of the week, Everly deludes herself into believing she is mostly back to normal with fewer distracting thoughts, or at least she has gotten better at dismissing them when they do come up. Which happens literally every morning, when she comes down the stairs and sees the poinsettias in the foyer, and every night when she gets home from work and sees them on the porch steps. Truthfully, she’s impressed she has managed to keep them alive this long. She’s put more effort into it than she has anything in her life outside of work, and she’s finally at a point where she can admit to herself that she wants to impress Asim.

Hopefully it means she isn’t completely incompetent in the world of plants, maybe she has a chance of succeeding at this whole re-landscaping thing after all.

Everly tries her best to sit still while she waits, limiting her movements to tapping her toes rather than full on pacing; landscaping day one is here and she can’t wait for Asim to arrive. The nervousness is a given, at this point she’s used to the constant fidgeting and hint of nausea in her stomach, but the excitement thrumming through her veins is a welcome surprise.

She’s also reciting her affirmation for the week on a loop in her head: “I can do more than I give myself credit for.” Everly alternates this with quizzing herself while she waits, asking herself “what would Carrie say” in response to the intrusive thoughts as she sits in anticipation of his arrival, attempting to get her roiling emotions under control. She stares through the window above the kitchen sink, willing him to appear at the end of her driveway. Everly truly believes that waiting is the worst activity in the world.

What feels like days later, she hears him before she sees him, and Everly’s jaw drops open when Asim turns into her driveway. He’s riding a motorcycle, but it’s not like any motorcycle she’s seen before. For one thing, it’s cream colored with brown leather seats and handles, and that alone is enough to catch the eye. As he revs closer up the driveway she admires the vintage look; sleek, curved lines and one big, round headlight front and center.

It’s pretty.

Asim pulls around the circle and swiftly parks in front of the garage, dropping both feet to the ground and kicking down the stand with one booted foot.

Everly nearly sprints to the front door, flinging it open and tripping outside onto the porch before he’s even turned his bike off. Standing this close, she can feel the rumble of it in her sternum, and it sends her pulse skyrocketing. Everly has little control over herself right now, eyes glued to the view in front of her as it feels like the world around her ebbs into slow motion.

She watches with rapt attention as Asim’s hands rise to his helmet and pull it off. He rakes one hand through his thick, dark hair, pushing it back from his forehead as he swings off the bike and sets his helmet on the seat. He hasn’t noticed Everly yet, and her body is rigid, stuck in place, feet cemented to the porch steps as she watches him.

Asim’s eyes skim over the plants that are still lined up along the edge of the driveway before sweeping in her direction. As soon as those mesmerizing green eyes land on hers, Everly’s insides melt even as her skin feels strung tight. The contrasting sensations are nearly overwhelming, but his smile sends all the anxious thoughts straight out of her head.

It sends every other thought out of her head too.

It’s then that her eyes register what he’s wearing. Asim strides toward her in a sexy-as-hell leather jacket, ripped and worn jeans, heavy work boots, and a t-shirt that she hopes is as tight as the glimpse she sees of it stretched across his chest hints at. He’s pulled work gloves out from somewhere and sticks them in his pocket.

Everly, on the other hand, is not at all dressed for yard work, despite scouring the back of her closet for appropriate options. She’s wearing comfy black yoga pants that cling to her lower body with thick fuzzy socks pulled up over her ankles, a loose off the shoulder light green sweater giving just a hint of creamy skin, and her hair is down in wavy curls. Asim stops short of the steps, putting her slightly above him, then eyes the pair of poinsettias she has managed to keep alive on either side of her.

“Hello again," he says, lips curving into a smile as he looks up at her.

Everly clears her throat, trying to find her voice. Asim’s presence is like a wave, taking over and sucking her under so she loses track of which direction she’s supposed to be going.

“Hi Asim, thanks for coming.” Everly is so proud of that response. I mean, look at her being all adult and mature and keeping it together when really all she wants to do is throw herself at him like a deranged puppy.

He flashes her a crooked smile like he knows what she’s thinking. “I’m surprised these are still here.” He angles his chin toward the poinsettias, and her chest blooms with pride.

He noticed.

“Honestly, me too.” Everly chuckles at his questioning look, and gestures for him to follow her inside. “I’ve been trying my best to keep them alive. I don’t know what else to do with them, so I guess I have a house full of red plants now.”

Everly offers him a seat in the kitchen and a glass of water, intending to get right down to business even though she’s not entirely sure where to start with this landscaping project. She assumes they need to make a plan and talk it out first.

It’s pretty much her go-to process for anything and everything.

“You don’t have to keep all of them," Asim says, and it takes Everly a second to realize he’s still talking about the poinsettias.

“What else would I do with them?” she asks .

“Most people throw them out after the holidays," he tells her, though he doesn’t look entirely happy to be saying it. Everly scrunches up her nose.

“I don’t like the idea of throwing them away. They’re still beautiful, and alive. It seems like such a waste.”

“Maybe you could do something else with them. You could share them with friends or family," Asim speculates, but then notices how her body stiffens in response to that comment. Everly can’t help it; any mention of her family has always brought heartache and loss in the past, and even though she’s working on her relationship with Addison, there is no changing her parents’ fate.

“What is it?” Asim asks, his accent heavy.

“It’s nothing.” Everly tries her best to relax and wave off his concern. “I assumed you knew, I swear everyone else in town does, but I’m not exactly close with my sister and, well, my parents passed away about eight years ago now.”

“Everly,” his face is carved with devastation, and he waits for her to look directly up at him. She does eventually, and although sad, his eyes are kind, with not a hint of pity. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I know you probably get that a lot, and I feel awful for bringing it up. I never would have suggested giving them to your family if I had known.”

He reaches out and lays his hand so very gently on top of hers where she’s picking at her nails. It’s a nervous habit she can’t seem to break.

“That’s okay. You didn’t know, and it was a reasonable suggestion.” Everly pulls her hands from his and drops them into her lap, fisting the fabric of her sweater instead. She tries to make her voice nonchalant to match her words, but there’s still a slight wobble to it. “Besides, even though I’m working on things with my sister, she doesn’t live close anyways.”

“Where does she live?” he asks.

“She’s in San Diego. She’s lived there since our parents died, actually.” Everly doesn’t know why she’s telling him all of this, other than he’s asking and is surprisingly easy to talk to.

“Is that why you aren’t close? Because you live so far apart?” Asim’s eyebrows crinkle in the middle, and the way he watches her so intently makes it clear he’s invested in what she has to say.

“Maybe?” Everly isn’t sure. “She was attending UCSD when it happened. She inherited the beach house there, and I inherited this place here, and I don’t know… I think we both must have gotten caught up in our own grief and trying to move on in our own ways. We just drifted apart and it lasted up until that holiday party actually. She’s never come before, but she came this year.” Everly pauses and takes a deep breath. “It’s the first time I’ve seen or talked to her since the year they died,” she confesses.

She can’t look at him, but that doesn’t stop her from hearing him suck in a breath at that confession, and Everly knows as soon as she looks up she’ll see the judgment in his face. So she doesn’t. Everly focuses on her fidgeting fingers in her lap, playing with a loose thread from her sweater.

Asim stands and walks slowly around the counter, only stopping when he’s inches away from her. He swivels her stool gently so they’re facing each other, giving her time to protest if she wants to. Asim places his hands on her upper arms, then slowly skims them down, picking her hands up from her lap and holding them in his to calm their movements again. Her fingers look delicate encased in his much larger grip, and she focuses for a second on the rough feel of his calluses against her skin. Everly still hasn’t lifted her gaze, and after he transfers both of her hands into one of his, Asim nudges her chin up with his forefinger so she’s looking up at him.

“Grief looks different for everyone," he says, slow and deep and with so much earnestness it takes her breath away. “It’s okay to take whatever time and space you need, and when you’re ready, if you want to, you can always reach out and see if she wants to reconnect.”

Her eyes are glassy, and she’s afraid to blink or they might spill over. She has no memories of anyone treating her with such gentle care and empathy before. After her parents died, it was all about planning and moving forward. Planning the funeral, transferring the properties, continuing their work on the hotel, and in general trying to get a solid foothold in this new world without them. There was never time for crying and softness and gentle condolences, not even with Frankie.

Or maybe she just never allowed herself that emotional space.

Everly nods in response to his words, which unfortunately knocks loose a couple of those tears filling her eyes. Asim brushes them away, his calluses a soft scratch on her cheeks, then lifts her hands and kisses her fingertips before placing them back in her lap. His lips are soft and warm, and she wants to feel them again. He sits next to her instead of back across the counter, and he waits. Everly isn’t sure what he’s waiting for until she finds herself talking again a few moments later.

“I’ve been trying to reconnect with her. My sister. Addison.” She clarifies. “She was here when you dropped everything off actually, she’d only been here for a little while before you showed up.”

“Wow, gotta hand it to me,” he says with a huff. “I don’t think I could have had worse timing if I tried.”

Everly musters a smile, though it’s fleeting. “It was okay. It was a weird morning all around. We got together a couple more times while she was in town though and it got easier to see and talk to her, and we’ve been calling and texting since she left.”

“That’s great, Everly.” Asim beams at her, straightening up a little in his seat.

“Yeah, it is pretty great isn’t it.” Everly’s smile lasts longer this time. “We’re doing pretty good I think, considering how much time we lost. What about you? Do you have family nearby?”

“Oh yes. My family is a lot.” Asim’s wide grin doesn’t match the exasperated tone he uses to describe his family, and she can tell they’re important to him. “And I mean that literally. I have four siblings. I’m the oldest at thirty six. After me is my sister, then two brothers, and another sister. We’re all only a couple years apart and I have no idea how my parents managed all of us in one household.”

“I can’t even imagine.” Everly knows her eyes are big, because she really can’t imagine what that must have been like. She thought her one sister was a lot to handle growing up, but having four younger siblings must have been chaos most of the time.

“As I said, they’re a lot. They’re great though. We all grew up speaking Arabic, I’m grateful my parents didn’t want us to lose that connection to our homeland, even though many people looked down on us for it. My parents still live in one of the suburbs north of Phoenix, which is where we grew up, but my siblings have mostly moved out of state. One of my sisters, Farah, the older one, lives in Phoenix too, so she’s not too far, but that’s it, and the rest of my extended family is back in Iraq.” He says with a shrug, though she can hear in his voice that he misses them. There’s still a light in his eyes, but it’s dampened by talking about how far away everyone is.

“What part of Iraq?” she asks. “Have you been there?”

“I was born there actually, in northern Iraq, kind of near the border with Turkey. I haven’t visited so much lately, but when we were growing up my parents made it a point to take us whenever they could. I know they miss their family that still lives there.” Asim’s eyes brighten again when he talks about his family, just like they did when talking about the plants he grows. Everly is shocked to find she isn’t feeling any jealousy or hurt when he has something so wonderful that she doesn’t, as she often has flares of envy when she sees families happily shopping or eating together downtown. She would love to hear more about his family, and maybe even meet them someday.

“Wow, that’s a big move. When did you come to the US?”

“After my first sister was born, so I don’t remember much of it. My grandparents passed and I guess my parents wanted to start somewhere new.” Asim pauses for a moment, then continues with a softer note to his voice. “My bike is a replica of his, actually. My grandfather’s. My parents say he had one just like it.”

“Your motorcycle?” Everly clarifies, pointing toward the front of the house.

Asim nods, his eyes growing distant. “Yeah. I wish I could have met him, from what my parents say he sounds like an amazing man. ”

“I’m sure he was. It’s really cool you have the same bike though.”

Asim nods, a quiet smile on his face.

“So what made you move out here? I mean if your parents and sister are still in Phoenix, and your other siblings have moved away, why did you choose this random little town?”

Asim’s eyes crinkle up when his smile turns to a crooked grin. “Okay, don’t judge me.” He says, holding his hands up to ward her off.

“I would never!” Everly laughs and playfully smacks his hands down.

“I wanted to be able to grow some of the native Iraqi plants," Asim says. He looks at her almost warily, like she might bite him if he says the wrong thing, and it surprises her that her opinion matters to him. “There’s this pocket ecosystem that runs diagonally through Arizona, and it has a similar climate to parts of Iraq and southwest Asia. It makes it possible for me to grow some of the plants from there that I love.”

Her heart thuds in her chest with an accompanying ache. This is one of the most beautiful things Everly has ever heard. Asim found a way to combine two of his passions, his culture and his plants, in a very real way that allows him to enjoy both on a daily basis. Everly wants that in her life too. She wants to enjoy those things with him, and she wants to discover and enjoy her own passions in the same way.

Everly forces a hard swallow of longing.

“That’s beautiful, I’d love to see them sometime,” she says, and his low chuckle starts a tingling in her belly, but she can tell from the soft lines of his face that he’s pleased with her response.

“So.” Asim rises and claps his hands together. “Should we see what we’re working with out there?”