“Mom! Oh, you didn't have to—” Jesse's mom was saying. “Wow! Are these toma—Okay, hold on! Let me help with that—Are these tomatoes all mine?”

More audible smiles. The excited exclamation of “Dad!" The squeaky shuffling of a walker scraping its entry across the boards above.

Jesse pressed his face into the pillow and groaned.



The dusty downstairs bathroom was quiet and dim. Particles, upset by a passing car, drifted past the mirror. Jesse hoped the ceiling would collapse.

He found himself unwilling to risk the loud roar of a shower, so instead he accosted his hair with a comb and stared at his ragged reflection. He was nervous. It showed in how his twitchy fingers picked at his face. It showed in how hand followed comb with each pass, the one always undoing the progress of the other. He felt distant from himself and it made him queasy.

Eventually, he texted Frederick.

When later he crept up the stairs, he was confronted by the irritating crackle of Rick's voice: “Well, good morning, Jesse.”

“Oh good, there's my favorite botanist!” his mom said from the springy couch of the sitting room, her head tilting over its back to acknowledge his entrance. She closed the photo album on her lap as his grandma, sitting beside her, stifled a yawn. His mom continued her welcome. “Well, look! You're really home, Jesse! Did you see there's coffee and donuts in the kitchen?” In the fluffy corner chair, his grandpa appeared to have fallen asleep, his face drooping over his walker.

His grandma cut in. “You've grown, Jesse. It's been such a long time, you know. Last time we talked you were still in college.” Her faint, pitter patter voice helped to sell her routine of innocence. Despite this, she had, of course, cut straight to the unpleasant elephant in the room. She smiled her sweet smile.

“Yes, well, that's something we need to talk about, Jesse,” Rick said. “Marie and I have discussed it. I'd like to have a diplomatic conversation with you about college.” Rick stood stern and sturdy in the dining room, his presence making the antique grandfather clock redundant.

“Oh, Rick. Let's all just catch up for a minute first,” his mom said. She scooted to the side of the couch and patted the space between herself and Jesse's grandma. The springs squeaked.