Page 4 of Earth-Bound

That made up my mind.

I’d risk talking to Broadmire. The worst that could happen was he would say no. Or he’d punch me on the nose. I wouldn’t put it past him.

Letting them walk a bit nearer, I gathered my courage. I needed to ask a question, that was all. A very simple question. And Broadmire was my employer, so he had to answer.

As I drew nearer, I heard them talking. Well, Randall was talking. Broadmire tended mostly to just grunt unless he had something important to say. It didn’t seem to matter to Randall, who chattered away while Broadmire listened.

It was only when I got near enough to hear what he was saying that I realised he wasn’t talking to Broadmire at all. He was talking to the tree.

“… these lovely green leaves coming out now and you’re looking so much healthier. I hope you’re getting enough water because it hasn’t rained in the last few weeks and I don’t want you to get thirsty.”

I gave a small cough as I walked, to make sure they saw me coming.

Randall stopped talking and turned to look at me. His cheeks went slightly pink because he was almost sure I’d caught him chatting to a tree – which I had – but I wasn’t going to call him on it. Of all people, I wasn’t the one who could laugh at him for that.

“Hey,” I said. “Are you having a good morning?”

“Oh, um, hi Joe. Yes, thank you. How are you?”

“I’m fine. I was wondering if I could have a word with Broadmire.”

Randall looked over his shoulder at his large boyfriend. Broadmire was taller than me, and I was just over six foot. I wasn’t used to having to look up at people but this man made me feel practically tiny. I have no idea what it felt like to Randall, to look up at him, since Randall was short and soft and plump. When Randall looked questioningly up at him, Broadmire shrugged.

See. My new boss didn’t go in for pleasantries much. Way to make a guy feel wanted, right?

Still, I smiled anyway and decided to approach my question a little from the side, just in case Broadmire refused to let me move them. I needed to move some of the saplings, too. If I asked about them, Broadmire might not notice if I swapped one plant from that window at a time.

I asked, “I was wondering about the trees over in the east field.”

“What about them?”

“They’re very young. Have they been planted recently?”

“Yes.”

I waited a moment, then had to ask, “Did you plant them?” because Broadmire never seemed to expand on anything unless I asked a specific question. It meant our conversations were pretty stilted.

He grunted out a, “Yes. Why? Is there a problem?”

The way he said ‘problem’ made me think I’d take my life into my hands if I said yes. So I shook my head.

“No, not a problem. I was just wondering about their location.”

“What about it?”

This was awkward. So far, Broadmire had basically let me do what I wanted with his land, which (in my opinion) was a smart thing to do, since I was a professional gardener and he was not. One sapling was planted on an exposed stretch where it would take a beating from the wind in winter, and the other was in entirely the wrong soil and needed to be moved.

I cleared my throat and just went for it. The man probably wouldn’t hit me if Randall was there. I tried to phrase my question in a way that made it sound as respectful as possible.

“Did you plant them there deliberately?”

“Nah. Just dug a hole and put them in the ground.”

I nodded, trying not to goggle at the man. He really knew literally nothing about landscaping, let alone anything about the finer points of suiting plants to the soil.

Unfortunately, I didn’t do a good enough job of keeping my face straight. Randall cackled with laughter.

“Poor Joe,” he said. “Trying to make sense of your garden.”

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