Page 53 of My Book Boyfriend
“Strive to Do Better!”
“Save Our Community Garden!”
A few more moms arrive. They’ve dressed their children as vegetables. The potato costume works particularly well over the winter coat. The carrot is definitely a chunky one because of the puffer jacket underneath. Next to the carrot is a pea and another potato. The children march around with signs: “Save Our Carrots!” “Save Our Peas!”
The reporters love it, and one mentions that it might get on the six o’clock news. I take a video. We’re under strict instructions from Jade to film as much as possible, and she’ll see what she can use forTalkTackvideos.
A man in a black-and-white catering outfit wheels out a cart with three carafes on it, plus cups and milk.
“Strive Developers was worried you might be cold, so we brought you some hot beverages,” he says.
“Don’t drink it,” one of our elderly protesters says. “They want us to have to go to the bathroom and give up.”
“And you’re free to use our bathrooms in the lobby. Ask for the key from the receptionist,” the catering staff person says.
My phone beeps.
Rupert:Are you okay down there? It’s cold out. Should I send sandwiches or some hot food?
Me:Keeping toasty warm by marching.
Rupert:I’d rather be keeping you toasty warm.
I blush.
Mrs. Potter joins me at the cart and stirs sugar into her paper cup of coffee.
Mrs. Potter sips her coffee. “You know, Lily, if it’s love, keeping the garden may not be more important that finding a life partner. Don’t let us hold you back. I don’t want you feeling all conflicted and torn about this. It’s hard enough to find love in New York City without adding this into the mix. We will still do all we can to save the garden.”
That is so Mrs. Potter.
“I won’t let you down,” I say. “My priority is the garden.”
A reporter comes over. “Are you two the co-chairs of the Oasis Garden? I’m withThe Squirrel.”
“We are,” Mrs. Potter says.
“We understand your desire to save this community garden. But surely, affordable housing and giving homes to families is more important than preserving a small community garden?” the reporter asks.
Not a friend of Maddie’s.
“It’s a false dichotomy,” I say. “They can build a development that has affordable housingandkeep the community garden. The community garden draws about fifty thousand annual visitors, offers diverse programming, provides organic vegetables for low-income families, and serves as a community center. Not to mention that this is one of the few community gardens on the Upper West Side and is accessible for seniors.” I cite the statistics that we found earlier.
“How do you know they can do both?” the reporter asks.
“We did research. Ask them. Ask them if they can do both.”I’m not holding back.
The reporter backs off. “Okay. Thanks for your time.”
Another man in a black suit wheels over a cart of drinks to the reporters who have shown up. Buttering up both sides.
Next follows a man with a cart full of sandwiches. Rupert is definitely taking the honey approach. We decide to take shifts eating. Half of us will keep up the chant while the other half eat. Mrs. Potter rallies us to eat as much as we want. “Might as well take what we can.”
“Oh, I know that guy,” Bella says, pointing to one of the catering staff members. “I worked with him on a catering gig at this fancy Upper East Side party. We had such a fun time. Nobody ate anything. There was so much food left over, and the hostess said we could take it. Remember that grilled chicken that fed us for several days?”
“Yes, and those strawberry dessert tarts.”
“I’ll be back. I want to say hi.”
