A loud click resounded in the receiver, and Andy returned the phone softly to its base. An odd smile spread across his lips as he stretched his arms out in front of him. He stared forward into the empty air of his apartment, and saw nothing but light pouring in through his window. He decided to go for a long drive past the edges of the city.

Car after car sped around and past his own – the same one he been driving since high school. The drivers of some of the cars were women. Some of them were beautiful women – women with the same hair as hers, the same face as hers, the same look as hers. He tried to keep up with them, and once he was in their view, he cocked his head slightly to the left and ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to look debonair. The women sped up or turned off the road before they noticed.
As he approached the zenith of his journey, Andy noticed an intense sparkle of green coming from a store to his right. He slowed his car and looked out his window to beaten pick-up truck filled to the brim with house plants. A spray painted piece of plywood that read “House Plants 4 Sale” leaned on the tailgate of the truck. On a whim, Andy pulled over.
The various tropical and exotic leaves waved invitingly in the bright sunlight. Some looked a bit brown and somewhat sickly, as though they had been outside on the rack too long. Others had leaves that while lush and green, were either too broad or too thin to appeal to Andy’s eye. One plant, however, immediately caught his attention. It was a tropical plant, and its succulent green leaves quivered in the light wind; its stalks stood smooth like slender legs. Andy picked up the pot and carried it the old woman sitting in the cab of the truck. She was a withered old woman with skin darker than chocolate.
“How much for this one?” Andy asked.
“You don’t want that one,” she said. Andy was a bit stunned.
“Oh?”
“She’s too needy.” She looked straight into his eyes. “…for you,” she added.
“I’ll manage, thanks.” He broke free of her stare and glanced to the wad of cash she held in her hands.
“Suit yourself. Two fifty.” She eyed Andy up and down as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his money. “Thank you very much,” she said.
The playful plant tickled his face gaily as he returned to his car. He drove home with the windows rolled down singing along with Beta Band’s “Dry the Rain.”

~

Andy stepped into his apartment and immediately took the plant into his bedroom. He pried open the window, something he hadn’t done for months (though he’d longed to for quite awhile) and placed the plant on the floor beneath the beam of warm white sunlight. He sat for awhile and watched it wiggle and wave in the breeze.
Soon Andy grew tired of the plant’s sensuous dance, and he wandered wearily to the kitchen for a drink. He took a bottle of Evian methodically from the fridge, opened it, and took a bitter swig of the cold, sterile water. The rest he took and gave lovingly to the plant. He stooped and listened to the painful trickle as the cold water slithered down through the hidden entanglement of roots and dirt. He put the lid back on the bottle and threw it to the trash can beside his twin bed. It shied a bit too far to the left and hit the wall with a tap.
The dying sun began to settle on the horizon, casting beautiful pink and purple flares into the sky. Andy settled onto his stomach, folded his arms under his chin, and continued to watch the plant; its leaves danced slowly in the evening breeze.
Rachel, he thought. I’ll call it Ra- It was in the middle of the moment, that fraction of a second in which the rose-colored light rode triumphantly through his bedroom window on the soft wind that teased his plant, when he noticed the blinking, blaring red light of his answering machine –chel.
“Jesus,” he sighed. His face paled as he reached over, palms sweating, and dutifully pressed the PLAY button.
“Andrew, it’s Rachel. I just wanted to say that I’m coming over sometime tomorrow to pick up my stuff, and then you’ll never have to see me again, which should make you happy because… well, whatever.”
“Christ,” he moaned. After a brief moment of intended and expected silence, it continued.
“And if it wouldn’t be too much to ask, even though it probably will be since it always is with you, could you take my Evians out of the fridge so they’re not cold when I pick them up? I don’t want the sweat to get my seats wet. Thanks.”
Andy turned back to the open window. The vibrant sky had melted to a dirty gray. The scene served as a backdrop to the plant, who danced a gloomily in the light, silent wind. He struggled to shut the window, but after months of disuse, had become quite resistant. With his last push downward, the window slammed shut. He stared blankly at the motionless plant, now immersed in darkness. He rolled over, freeing himself from the gloomy image.
That night, underneath a blanket of stars, he took Rachel out to the dumpster along with the rest of his trash.

~

The sky the following morning loomed cloudy and gray overhead, and Andy’s thoughts drifted to the plant by the dumpster. As he scraped butter over his toast, he peered through his kitchen window at the leafy shadow that he could now only just make out behind the dumpster. Its round leaves waved as cars passed by. He remained fast in his chair, took a mouthful of toast, and maintained his vigilance until a large brown trash truck blocked his view of his plant. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead. He stood up on his toes to get a better look at what was going on. Outside, the man from the trash truck reached into the dumpster and removed bag after bag. The man did this quickly; very quickly, and soon all the trash, and the plant, would be gone for good. Andrew dropped his toast onto his plate and ran down the stairs to the ground floor, where he resumed a collected walking gait. He approached the dumpster and the man coolly.
“Morning,” said the man.
“Morning,” said Andrew, a bit too hastily, and the man took notice. He glared through his bushy eyebrows at Andrew, who stooped down and collected his plant. “Don’t know how that got in with the trash,” he said, feigning a smile.
“Yup.” The man feigned a smirk.
Andrew took in a large gulp of the morning air, held it, and turned away from the man’s two horribly watchful eyes. “Well, see ya.”
“Uh-huh.” The man threw the final bag into the truck then clambered into his seat and drove away, leaving Andrew in a dense cloud of dark grey smoke.
Andrew turned around and climbed back up to his apartment, entered, and sat Rachel on the table across from his chair. He took another bite of his toast then set it down, smiled warmly at Rachel (whose leaves looked so bright green in the clouded light that they appeared to be made of plastic), and left his apartment for work.

~

Upon returning home that evening, Andrew found a note resting underneath Rachel’s pot along with a key. He rolled his eyes. It was written in fast cursive on a piece of his linen resume paper. The i’s were topped by circles instead of dots.
Andrew,
I can’t believe you didn’t even do me the one little favor I asked of you! This is so like you. Why did I put up with this bullshit for eighteen months of my life?! Never once have you ever done ANYTHING for me. Did you ever even love me? You need to grow up and get over yourself. Go to hell,
Rachel
Andy took the letter from underneath the plant, wadded it into a small ball, and threw it slightly to the left of his trash can. He pocketed the key and fell heavily into his chair, forehead in his hands. When he finally raised his head, he was surprised by the brightness of the light in his apartment; he was forced to squint to get a clear image of the plant across the room. His eyes watered from the strain.
He rose slowly, mechanically, and staggered into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator door. A row of ice-cold bottles of Evian stood defiantly on the middle shelf. Andy’s lips curled up at the corners of his mouth. He began plucking bottle after bottle of the ice cold natural spring water from the fridge’s metal shelf and poured them down the drain, slowly at first, but with increasing speed and vigor, every final gurgle resulting in even more satisfaction than the last. When he came to the final bottle of water, however, he opened it and held it over the sink for a couple seconds, but then shook his head and returned the bottle to the sanctity of the countertop. He walked quietly to his chair, and as he stared at his plant, drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

~

The sun had already set when he woke a half an hour later, but Andy could see from the blue moonlight that the sky had cleared. He went to the window and stood there for a few moments watching a cat in the alley licking its claws before his mind was overcome by his need for a drink. He went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Its emptiness baffled him until he turned to the counter where her final bottle of water rested, lukewarm and sweaty. A grin returned to Andy’s face as he picked up the Evian and examined it. Slowly he opened it, and drank from the mild and refreshing water. He took the rest back to the plant and poured it into the pot. It soaked up the remaining water, and he listened as it trickled gently through the soil.

~~~

Rachel woke with a start to something like the glittery shatter of glass coming from her living room. She rose quickly, slipped on a t-shirt, tiptoed quietly into the hallway, and peered into the living room. Everything seemed to be still and quiet, but at this moment, with the clear moonlight pouring through the unbroken window, the peace provided no comfort. She crept uneasily forward and looked through the eyehole in her front door. She saw nothing.
“Oh my God,” she shivered, her voice a tense whisper. She turned the knob with great care and pulled slowly, gently against the door’s weight. There, smashed and smeared on her rubber door mat, were pieces of broken terra cotta, some wet black dirt, and the ruins of what was once a beautiful green plant.