by Joey Bush
I immediately sent off the email signing up.
I was surprised to get a reply just a few minutes later saying there'd be a get-together that afternoon for new members to get to know the leaders and current members. I responded that I'd be there before I got out my chemistry notes to start a day of studying.
***
I left my first RAG meeting feeling fantastic. The society was operated by very efficient and motivated people, and I got a sense they really were in it to help those who were less fortunate rather than merely being involved for the sake of having something attractive to put on their CV. What was even better, we'd already been given our first project to raise money for a local children's charity. We’d sell potted plants donated by a local garden center so whatever they sold for would be all profit. Several of us had each been given a basket with ten small potted plants to sell. If we could get a couple of dollars for each plant, we'd easily be able to raise a few hundred, or even a thousand dollars for the children's charity.
The first thing I did, of course, was buy one for myself — a beautiful little daisy. I popped ten dollars into the donation box and put the daisy on the balcony with the rest of our plants as soon as I got home. I'd kind of counted on Leslie buying one, as well, but she wasn’t home. I figured I wouldn't actually have to venture very far from my apartment building to sell the plants.
Since Leslie wasn't around, I thought I might see if Emerson was up for buying a plant. I hadn't noticed any green in his apartment the one time I'd been there, so I figured it would be a nice addition to the place.
I headed out and knocked on the door – which was promptly opened by Chris, who leered at me before staring at my chest in my kind of low-cut top. I instantly regretted that choice, and spoke quickly to bring his attention back up to my face.
“Hi, Chris, how's it going?”
“Hey. I'm alright. Pretty hungover, but surviving, yo. What's going on?”
I had forgotten that he lived here, as well. I had really hoped that it would have been Emerson who would have opened the door.
“Well, I'm volunteering for RAG at college. Have you heard of them?”
“Not interested,” said Chris flatly.
Well, that was pretty downright rude.
“Hang on a second, I haven't even-”
“I've got no spare cash right now, okay? Sorry.”
His tone said it all. There was no way he was gonna buy one of the plants. I sighed and turned away.
“Alright, no worries,” I said in a resigned tone. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“Later,” he said, before closing the door in my face.
What a jerk. I couldn't believe Emerson was friends with that guy. As I turned around to walk down the hall though, I saw a familiar silhouette rounding the corner, coming out of the stairwell.
“Emerson!”
“Hey, Brooke, how's it going? Were you just coming out of my place?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I was trying to see if you guys were interested in buying a plant or two for charity, but your roommate wasn't, uh, wasn't very receptive.”
“Oh, sorry about that. I guess he's feeling pretty hungover from last night.”
“And you? You were looking a few sheets to the wind when I saw you on the roof last night.”
He chuckled self-effacingly. “Yeah, I was a bit, but trust me, I wasn't blasted. I actually feel alright. I stayed out on the roof for a while after you went in and then drank a ton of water and ate something before bed. I got a decent amount of sleep, so I felt okay when I woke up.”
“That's good to know. Anyways, I gotta get going and sell some of these plants.”
“Well, hold up a sec, I'll take a couple of 'em. How much are they?”
“Awesome, thanks! Pretty much however much you wanna donate.”
“So, will you take like, ten cents for one of those bad boys?” he said with a wink.
I fired a fierce mock-glare at him.
“I'd rather eat it than sell it to you for ten cents, Emerson.”
“I'm kidding, I'm kidding,” he said with a chuckle. “What charity is it for, anyway?”
“It's for the Johnson Children's Home. It's a charity downtown.”
“You know, I've actually heard of that. They do a lot of good things for inner city kids. They get 'em motivated and inspired and give them opportunities to better themselves and learn new skills. Yeah, I'm totally down to support an initiative like that. And, good on you for volunteering to do something like this. You never cease to amaze me.”
My cheeks heated as I tried to avoid making direct eye contact. I didn’t want anything else heating up, too. “Aw, thanks, Emerson! I've always had a soft spot for helping others. I've been doing charity work since I was a kid. Started out tagging along with my mom when she went. It's something I think everyone should do at least once in a while.”
“Ya know, you’re right. Not that I've done much myself, but yeah, more people should get involved. It really would make the world a better place.”
“It certainly would.”
“Alright, I've got twenty bucks on me. Is that enough for two of those plants?”
“Yeah, that's perfect. Thanks! Which ones do you want?”
He peered down into the basket. “Um, I don't know much about plants. Which ones will be least likely to die in my place?” he said with a laugh.
I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Jeez, you guys! Alright, well, take the cactus, it should be pretty damn tough. And this one, it's a succulent that doesn't need much water. It'll also be able to survive the um, harsh conditions of your apartment.”
“Awesome,” he said as he took the plants out of my basket. “I'll do my best not to kill them.”
“Yeah, let me know how that goes. Well, I gotta head out now. Otherwise, I’m buying a bunch of plants for myself. Thank you for the donation!”
“No problem. Good luck getting rid of the rest of them. I hope you get some decent offers on 'em.”
“Thanks, Emerson. Enjoy the rest of the afternoon.”
He smiled, took the plants, and headed into his apartment. I watched him go with a smile on my face. There was definitely more to Emerson than met the eye, I knew that much.
***
I arrived back home around seven o'clock with one plant left — one I'd kept especially for Leslie. It hadn't taken much effort on my part to sell the plants; I'd just walked around the neighborhood and knocked on people's doors who had a lot of flowers and plants adorning their patios or porches. Most were receptive and had donated pretty generously. I had raised over a hundred dollars, which wasn't bad for two hours of charity work.
I walked in and saw Leslie in the kitchen, whipping up dinner.
“Hey, girl!” she called out as I walked in.
“Hey, Les, how was your Saturday?”
“It's been good! I had rehearsals with my amateur troupe most of the day. Remember, I told you we're doing Hamlet in a couple of weeks?”
“Oh, yeah, how's that going?”
“Great! The guy who's playing Hamlet is so talented. I'm learning a lot from him. I feel like I'm gonna improve by leaps and bounds this semester. How has your day been?”
“It's been nice. I joined RAG and went to my first meeting today.”
She giggled a little. “Their name still cracks me up. I remember you wanted to join up last semester, but your schedule was too crazy. So how was it?”
“The people there are great. They're really dedicated and they take it seriously. And, I felt like they were all genuinely compassionate people who really care about making a difference.”
“That's just the sort of people who need to be running something like that.”
“Yeah. And, they gave us our first task to complete.”
“Oh yeah, what was that?”
I held up the basket and took out the last remaining plant, holding it up with a triumphant smile for Leslie.
“Ta-daa! A local garden center donated a ton of
these for us to use to raise money for the Johnson Children's Home downtown. I saved this one for you.”
“Aw, it's lovely! How much?”
“However much you'd like to donate, really. No pressure, I've made over a hundred bucks already, which will make for a great donation when combined with everyone else's.”
“Cool, so how does five dollars sound for that little one?”
“Sounds good to me. Just drop it in the box and we can get it out onto the balcony.”
“Here you go,” she said as she paused with making dinner and dug in her purse for some change.
I took the money and popped it into the donation box then took the plant out to join the others. I stayed out there for a few moments, rearranging the plants.
As I walked back inside, I saw Leslie standing in the middle of the living room, her hands on her hips, with an expression of pure fury across her face. At the same time, I heard it — the powerful thumping of bass rattling everything in our apartment.
Chris.
“This time, I'm calling the cops,” Leslie hissed. “I've had it; I've totally had it with those two assholes! This just keeps on happening! Jesus, I can hardly even hear myself over that racket!”
“Hold up, hold up. Don't call the cops, Les, just wait a sec. I'll go over and get them to turn it down, alright?”
“No, Brooke, no. They need to be taught a lesson. You going over there and asking them nicely just means they'll keep doing this again and again because they know the consequences are gonna be nothing. Nope. They must know that when they act like complete, inconsiderate, selfish jerks who wreck everyone else's peace and quiet, that there are gonna be consequences!”
“Please, Les, come on. It's just gonna cause so much friction, and we don't need that with the neighbors. Look, I'll go over there with my best angry face on. I'll give them hell this time. No more Miss Nice Brooke; I'll be mean! They won't do it again.”
“Brooke, girl, I love you, but you couldn't scare those two if your life depended on it. I'm sorry, but this is the last straw. We have a right to peace and quiet here, and that's an impossibility with those two jerks next door pulling this kind of shit all the time. I'm making the call.”
She strode into the kitchen where she’d left her phone. My heart started pounding madly in my chest. I could feel my breath quickening. I had to stop this somehow, I had to, but I had no idea what to do; I felt totally paralyzed.
But then, as Leslie was about to dial the cops, the music stopped. She stood, staring at the wall with fury in her eyes and her fingers on the phone, just waiting for the music to start again. I waited with bated breath, but the silence remained.
I let out a sigh of relief, and Leslie shook her head, muttered under her breath, and put the phone back in her pocket.
Emerson and Chris were safe.
For now.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Emerson
I sat staring at the cactus I'd bought from Brooke. I was supposed to be studying, but my mind kept wandering. Maybe having the plant sitting on my desk wasn’t the best idea since I thought about her every time I looked at it. Chris had already given me a load of shit for buying it, but I didn't care.
I couldn’t help but be impressed with Brooke. She really seemed to have her life together. Not many adults I knew seemed to be as together and focused as her. Nor did they think of someone other than themselves. I hadn't taken her for the type who'd get into charity work, but it was something she was passionate about. That was obvious by the way her eyes lit up when she had talked about helping the less fortunate.
I could honestly say I'd never met a girl quite like her in my life. No, Brooke was totally different — refreshingly different from any of the girls I had dated before, and especially different from girls like Melissa and her friends, who I doubted had ever done a single thing for anyone besides themselves.
The front door opening yanked me from my thoughts. I heard Chris come into the apartment. A minute later, he and Ciara, one of Melissa’s friends, were standing in the doorway of my bedroom.
“Yo, bro,” he said as he leaned against the doorframe.
“Hey, Emerson,” Ciara chimed from behind him.
“Hey, guys,” I replied. “What's going on?”
“Not much, broski,” said Chris. “Other than we just scored ourselves a bottle of tequila. Wanna have some fun?”
I shook my head and leaned back in my chair.
“Nah. It's a Tuesday night, and I need to study for a test I have tomorrow. No drinking for me.” I shot him a serious glare. “I'm pretty sure you've got a test tomorrow, too.”
“Aw, come on, Emerson,” Ciara urged, “don't be such a bore. Jeez. It's just a little tequila.”
I rolled my eyes. “Just a little tequila? Seriously? Are you guys gonna drink it with an eyedropper, one drop at a time? I'm not as stupid as I look. I know where just a little tequila leads and I told you, I don't want to drink.”
“Well, too bad, E, because we do. And I wanna jam some tunes on my decks.”
“Dude, please! I just told you I've got a test tomorrow. Can't you guys just go to a bar or something? Or at least stay in your room and keep it down? I seriously can't get anything done if you guys are in here drinking and DJing.”
“When did you become such an old-timer, Emerson?” Ciara asked with distaste smeared across her face.
“You know what? Whatever,” I said, annoyance coloring my voice. “I'll just go to the damn campus library and study. You two have a good time.”
“Come on, brah, just put the stupid books away and have a few shots with us. I even bought limes and salt,” Chris encouraged.
“I told you, I have to study tonight, man. And if I can't do that here, I'll just have to do it elsewhere, right?”
“Shit, bro. Ciara’s right; you really are turning into an old man.”
“Well, at least I’m not gonna fail this semester, Chris,” I countered, frustrated. “Can you say the same…bro?” I grabbed my books and stuffed them into a backpack. Moments later, I stormed past Chris and Ciara, slamming the door behind me.
It was the fifth night in a row he was getting smashed and I couldn't take it anymore. I'd been doing my best to work hard and focus on my studies — and avoid drinking — but Chris just didn't seem to care at all. He had been nothing but inconsiderate and self-absorbed. All he cared about was partying and bringing girls over. And, the look on his face was proof that he knew that he was going to fail the semester. He just didn't give a damn.
I shook my head as I made my way down the stairwell. I had to do something about my situation. Chris obviously wasn't going to change his ways. Which meant it was up to me to figure out a solution to my growing problem. I just didn’t know what that should be, but something had to give.
The question was...was it time to move out?
It was a heavy thought. Chris and I had been best friends since I could remember. We just seemed to be growing further and further apart. For the sake of my sanity — and my grades — moving out might be my best option.
As I climbed onto my bike and strapped on my helmet, I hoped I could find a solution that would allow me to keep my grades up and salvage my friendship with Chris, but I was beginning to have serious doubts about that.
With these thoughts swirling around my head, I started the bike up and sped off toward the library.
***
I woke up early the next morning and headed out for a jog, hoping to get five miles in before it got too hot and get back in time to get ready for my ten o'clock class. While I was running, I thought about what Chris and Ciara had said, calling me an old man. It made me realize that I had actually done quite a bit of growing up in the past few months. But being stuck in old patterns, and being stuck with people who didn't share my same vision for moving forward, was holding me back.
Chris, Melissa, and the party crew.
It wasn't that I disliked them. Chris was still one of my best buds. It's just that
our goals had diverged and we were heading down different paths in life. I'd gotten over my partying phase, but Chris was still very firmly stuck in his. I didn’t intend to quit partying altogether. I mean, I still wanted to go out and have fun. Just not every night of the week. And only when I had done everything I needed to do for school.
Not to mention, I didn't feel like there was much point in going out to clubs anymore. I couldn’t explain exactly why, but I was no longer interested in chasing girls. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that there was only one girl on my mind these days. And with a girl like her on my mind, there wasn't room for any other girls. Especially not airheads like Melissa.
Lost in my thoughts, I rounded my last corner and arrived back in front of the apartment building. When I paused for a breather before going up to take a shower, I noticed the elderly superintendent Jenkins was having a cigarette. I walked over to say hi.
“Hey, Jenkins.”
“Emerson. Good to see ya,” he growled in his gravelly smoker's voice.
“How's life?” I asked.
“Eh, I can't complain, I guess, although my back's been givin' me some issues. You?”
“All's good with me. Sorry to hear about your back, though.”
He shrugged. “These things happen when you're old. Nothin' you can do 'bout it but accept it.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I chuckled.
“I'm too ancient t' be running around like a young buck like you. These bones a' mine, they're old an' creaky!”
I laughed.
Jenkins smiled, but then his face took on a serious expression. “Hey, you know those two new dames who moved in next to you?”
