It's Connected to You
On a Saturday morning in March, seventeen-year-old Terri Warner, peered through her bedroom window, as always, when she awoke. Across the street, she spotted her neighbor, Professor Trandahl, with his left arm in a sling. The professor had become a fixture in their Memphis neighborhood every Saturday morning while out tending his plants, and Terri admired him. One day she wished to emulate him. The professor was also the reason she chose college prep courses while attending high school.
Professor Trandahl was a pleasant gentleman, balding on top now with a horseshoe-shaped mane of white and fluffy hair. About two years ago, he began to use a cane to get around. He'd been a research scientist before essentially retiring and Terri had aspirations of becoming one as well. Their frequent conversations usually revolved around science, and she appreciated how he respected her knowledge by never speaking down to her. Professor Trandahl often challenged Terri by inquiring about her feelings on the moral aspects of science, which she enjoyed very much because it became a practical way of testing her knowledge.
The professor was in his garden, on his knees, and Terri continued watching him care for that unique plant with its deep green leaves. The plant stood out from all the others, and she wanted to get a closer look at it one day, but it soon became insignificant. In the past, Terri had seen the professor use his cane to lower, then lift himself, but this morning, she watched as he struggled to stand, then he almost fell over.
Fearing he may injure himself further, she rushed outside to give him a hand.
As she exited the front door, fifteen-year-old Gayle's slim frame darted from her driveway and headed in the same direction as Terri. Gayle lived two houses down, and both she and Gayle enjoyed science, along with other school subjects. Gayle would progress to the 10th grade next school year, joining Terri at the same high school. Besides of a shared love of school and science, both were conscientious and cared about people.
They also shared another, more feminine, admiration of each other's hair. Gayle had often mentioned how cute Terri's pixie cut looked, but Terri wished she could have the full-blown, loose look of Gayle's natural hair because she loved how it bounced as she walked. Another distinctive trait of Gayle's that intrigued Terri were the soft brown freckles around the bridge of her nose. Terri had never encountered an African-American girl with freckles before.
Gayle climbed the professor's steep driveway, with Terri close behind, and they both helped him to his feet.
"There you go, Professor Trandahl," Gayle said as he regained his balance.
"Gayle, Terri, thank you. I thought I'd be able to get up, but I guess I really need my left arm to assist me."
"We don't mind helping you, Professor," Terri said.
Gayle added, "Yeah. I'm done with my homework, plus I had no plans, anyway. What can we do to help?"
Both girls accompanied the professor into the garage, picked out a pair of thick gloves, and followed him back out front. He pointed to what needed to be done in the flower beds surrounding the house, and the girls got to work. As he walked away, he turned and said, "Since you both are being so helpful, I'll give you five dollars each for your work, and if you can find others to mow my lawn and trim my bushes, I'll pay them five dollars, too."
"Really?" Gayle said, as her face lit. Terri wondered why until she remembered Gayle had younger twin siblings, and they'd enjoy getting money for their work. Then Terri's fifteen-year-old brother came to mind, and even though he didn't deserve it, she'd ask him to assist as well. Five dollars wasn't much, and she thought Gayle's siblings should only get two or three dollars, but it was what it was. "We'll be right back." Both Terri and Gayle dashed across the street to muster up more help.
*****
The professor took a seat on his front stairs, leaving his free hand atop his cane. Using his soft voice and index finger, he guided each helper as if conducting an orchestra. Everyone followed his directions without question. Terri worked with Gayle in the flower bed in front of the home, rotating and aerating the soil while sharing a hand shovel. This was the closest Terri had been to the professor's special plant, and it was special.
Its large leaves were greenish-red with a red central spine. Smaller spines extended outward to the leave's edges. The thick branches were the same color as the leaves and all of them converged at a central point buried beneath the soil.
Terri admired the professor's commitment to care for it.
As they worked, Gayle had scooted too close to the professor's most cherished plant and brushed the back of her hand against it.
"WHOA!" the professor barked. Gayle jumped back. "Watch out for that plant! Don't touch it, okay?"
Gayle glared at the plant, then gazed at Terri. Terri hunched her shoulders and wondered why he was so protective of that single plant. She remembered watching him plant it and care for it since he'd left from the science project he was a member of.
"It's very special and extremely rare," he said.
"Oh, sorry, Professor," Gayle said as she slid closer to Terri. He smiled, nodded, and then returned his attention to the younger ones. Terri and Gayle exchanged confused glances, then returned to the soil.
"Terri, could you toss me the shovel?" Gayle asked.
"Yeah. Catch."
Terri instinctively felt the shovel had too much spin as soon as it left her hand. She resigned herself to watching, in slow motion, as it flipped end over end, flinging off loose clumps of soil, until it struck the top of Gayle's hand and attained a new trajectory aimed at the rare plant.
Terri stopped breathing as she saw her relationship with the professor coming to an abrupt end.
The shovel tumbled into the plant, but before coming to a halt, it lopped off an outer branch.
"AWWWW!" the professor screamed, keeling over and tumbling down the stairs onto the walkway.
Terri joined Gayle as they rushed over to check on the professor, his grimace displayed his suffering.
Terri asked, "Gayle, do you have your phone?"
"No. I left it at home."
"Me too. Take care of him while I go get my phone. Keep the kids away. I'll be right back."
Leaving her phone was a mistake. She knew better. Terri sprinted home, told her parents what was going on, and they called 911. Then her parents accompanied her across the street to see what they could do to help.
Terri had never felt so helpless, but she didn't understand what ailed the professor. What had caused him to collapse? He wasn't clutching any part of his body and was reacting as if everything hurt. People asked, but he was in too much pain to speak. Terri hoped he wouldn't die in front of her. She'd never experienced death firsthand and having something so shocking take place across the street would be too much to take. The approaching sirens caused her to breathe deeper. They needed to hurry and get there and take her friend to the hospital.
A patrol car and ambulance arrived around the same time. That’s when Terri noticed the gathering crowd. Everyone spread back to allow the EMTs to tend to the professor. While they worked, Terri scrutinized the EMT’s eyes whenever they exchanged glances, and they looked as confused as she was. Soon, they loaded the professor onto the stretcher and whisked him off to the hospital.
Everyone standing around asked the same question: "What happened?"
It was the one question no one had an answer to. The professor had simply doubled over. Then she overheard Gayle scolding her siblings for asking to still get paid, and Gayle had to explain why it was inappropriate. Terri admired Gayle's sensitivity and knew she was definitely more mature than her years.
As the crowd dispersed, Terri stepped over to collect the tools and gloves from the flower bed. She kneeled over the special plant and pulled the shovel out by the handle. That's when she noticed the three-inch branch that had been lopped off.
She picked it up.
"OWW! Dammit!"
She dropped the branch and checked her index finger and thumb. Enough blood oozed out of each to form a large stationary drop on each digit. She brought her fingers to her mouth, then caught herself. There was no telling what might happen if she sucked the blood. That damn branch must've had hidden thorns or something poisonous because her fingers hurt like hell. She recalled the professor warning her and Gayle to wear gloves.
Terri wiped her fingers on her pants, then slipped on the pair of heavy-duty gloves and picked up the branch again. No thorns were visible, but a greenish gel leaked from the severed side. She stuck the branch into the soil next to the rare plant, hoping it would take root. A small pool of greenish gel also leaked from where it had been severed on the rare plant. Terri grabbed some soil and smothered it around the branch to stop the leaking. Watching the gel pool on the ground was just as unusual as the professor's plant.
After retrieving the rest of the tools, she headed home, turning back to gaze at the professor's yard. Her eyes welled.
Back at home, Terri took a seat on the couch as the rest of the family gathered around her.
Her brother asked, "So he just fell over?"
"Yep. It came out of the blue. He yelled out, then fell over."
Her mother said, "I think it was a heart attack or a stroke. I hope he'll be alright."
She heard her father grunt in approval. As they conversed, she replayed the situation in her head again and again, searching for a rational explanation. The only odd occurrence was the shovel striking the plant, then the professor going down almost simultaneously. But what she feared most was the professor never returning home again. For the first time in a long time, she preferred to be in the presence of her parents.
After a while, Terri resigned herself to her room.
The day had started off so promising. A gentle breeze entered her open window, carrying the earthy scent of the freshly mowed grass from the professor's lawn. She plopped down on her bed with her phone and tapped away at some lame game she'd downloaded a week ago, but her concentration suffered when images of Professor Trandahl's writhing, and her own helplessness, collided.
*****
Terri awoke Sunday morning and gazed outside her window. The professor's home appeared vacant, and she dropped her head. It was still early, so she climbed back into bed and pulled the covers close. Sleep wasn't far away.
The sound of a car door slamming woke her. Terri realized she'd dozed off for over an hour. Not wanting to spend the rest of the day in bed, she rose, gazed through her window again, and spotted a plump woman wearing a pink blouse and red knit pants helping the professor up his driveway. The sight of him struck her like a blast of fresh air, and nothing could curtail her urge to jump around.
The professor was okay!
She rushed around her room, searching for the nearest clothing she could slip on, then ran through the house, wearing her slippers, shouting the professor was okay.
As she trotted out of the house, there was Gayle again, leaving her home, but Terri wasn't surprised. The smile on Gayle's face must have mimicked her own. It was so good to see the professor again. They strolled up the driveway together as the professor was opening the screen door.
"Hello Professor Trandahl. Are you okay?" Terri asked.
"Yeah, are you okay?" Gayle followed up.
The professor made a slow turn, and his face brightened. "Terri and Gayle. Come over here." As they moved closer to the front stairs, he guided the woman who supported him to swivel toward the girls. He leaned toward them and said, "I want to thank you for what you did."
"You're welcome, but what happened to you?" Terri asked, wanting to understand.
"You know what? I'm not sure. The doctors couldn't find anything wrong besides my arm and the reason I use a cane. Whatever it was, it hurt like the dickens. But while I was in the ambulance, I started feeling better. It was the darndest thing I've ever experienced. They held me overnight and ran more tests, but couldn't find anything wrong."
"That's scary," Gayle said. "You looked like you were really hurting."
"I was. It was a pain I've never felt and hope to never feel again." Then the professor smiled and so did Terri.
He turned to the woman and said, "I'm in good hands now. Thank you for helping me up the driveway."
"You're welcome, sir. I hope you get better," she said and returned to her car. Terri found the melodic sound of her voice calming.
"She's a sweet Uber driver. I didn't expect her to assist me up the driveway." Terri turned to watch the woman wave as she pulled away and agreed with the professor. "Oh, and I didn't forget the work you did." He shoved his hand into his pocket.
Gayle held up both hands and said, "No, Professor. That's okay. We were glad to do it." Terri agreed with her.
"No. No. No. I can understand the both of you forfeiting payment, but the young ones wouldn't want that to happen, now would they?" Terri gazed over at Gayle and remembered the scolding she handed out. He pulled out a stack of five-dollar bills. "Gayle, this is for you and the twins." He handed her fifteen dollars.
"Thank you," Gayle said as she folded the bills.
"And Terri, this is for you and your brother." He sat ten dollars in her hand, but she didn't want it, and gave serious consideration to giving it all to her brother.
"Thank you, Professor."
"You're very welcome, girls."
"Do you need help getting into the house?" Terri asked.
"No, I don't think so."
"Alright," Gayle said. "I'll see you later, Professor, and take care of yourself. Bye-bye Terri."
She waved, then Terri watched her stroll back toward her home. She was sure Gayle's twin brothers would be happy to get their money. When Terri turned back, the professor was glaring at his special plant with an odd expression.
"Um, Terri? Help me down these steps, will you?"
"Sure." She was careful with his arm in the sling as he stepped onto the walkway. He nodded his head toward the plant, so she guided him to it.
"Help me down, please." His voice was almost breathless, which concerned her.
She gasped when, with his bare hands, he lifted the part of the plant where it was severed. He wasn't stuck by a thorn, but her curiosity soon found a new home. The professor examined how she'd patched up the plant.
"Do you know who did this?" he asked.
"I did. It was leaking, so I used soil to stop it."
His eyebrows lifted, and he nodded as if it was the right thing to do. Then his eyes drifted over to the left. He leaned in closer. "Did you plant this?"
"Umm… yeah. It was the part that was cut off by the shovel, so I planted it to see if it will grow."
"Did you touch it with your bare hands?"
It was an odd question, but she said, "Yes, but I wish I had my gloves on. A thorn or something really stuck my fingers. It drew blood." The professor's face froze. "Why? What's wrong? Is that bad?"
A calm expression settled on the professor's face. "No. No. You’re alright, but this plant belongs to you now. Take care of it. Don't let it die. It likes sunlight and will grow pretty fast, but will never get bigger than mine has."
"You're giving it to me? Why?"
"Because this is a very special plant from the Amazonian jungle. It only grows there, but I was able to manipulate a single seed to make it grow here. It was part of the research I was working on." Terri recalled how he mentioned snippets of his genetic research whenever she queried him about DNA for biology class last year. "When that thorn stuck you, some of your DNA entered the plant."
A chill ran up her spine. "Wait! This isn't like Little Shop of Horrors, is it?"
The professor expressed a hardy laugh, then said, "No, nothing like that." This plant isn't carnivorous, but it knows who its owner is. That's why you must take care of it. I can't go into details, but there's nothing to worry about. You take care of it, and it will take care of you."
"Will I have to wear gloves when I touch it?" she asked.
"With the plant I'm giving you? No. It knows you." He signaled air quotes around the word "knows." He added, "Could you give me a hand up? I need to find a pot for you."
"Oh, I can come by another day and get it. You don't have to do it now." But the professor kept moving.
He stopped at the garage as the door opened and said, "It would be best if you take it home now. It's a delicate plant. I didn't want to say anything with the Uber driver and Gayle around, and I wasn't going to tell you until I found out the plant had jabbed you. There was something I always suspected, but couldn't confirm until now."
Terri watched him move like a man on a mission, focusing on which pot or vase to use. They all looked the same to her, except for the materials used to make them. He found a large one, about twelve inches wide at the top and twelve inches deep, which bulged at the center. The color was an icky green, but it was the shiny glaze that gave it an odd appearance. He handed her the vessel, then pointed over toward the corner where a large bag of potting soil sat.
"I think when the shovel injured my plant, it injured me too, and that's what caused me to double over. At the time, though, I didn't realize it had been damaged. Terri, you must remember that the plant I'm giving you today may do the same to you." He pointed to the planting materials. "Fill the pot until it's about two-thirds full of soil."
She followed his directions, then he led her back out front. After Terri helped him down again, he said, "Okay, make a hole in the soil that's in the pot." She obeyed, then he said, "Dig out the single branch carefully. Make sure you leave enough dirt around it. The liquid you saw leaking is in the soil now."
The part of the branch that stuck out from the soil was about three inches long, and with the surrounding soil, the entire plant stood about five inches. She set it inside the pot, being careful how she packed the potting soil around it.
The entire time, Terri imagined herself being the professor's assistant, following his instructions exactly. This is how she believed scientists worked and acted, and it pleased her. Those scientists perform experiments, document their observations, and then draw hypotheses from those observations—the scientific method she'd learned in school. At that moment, Terri viewed herself in the experiment phase. She wasn't sure what would come next, but the tone of the professor's voice made it seem like replanting the branch was very important.
"Like I told you," he said, "this plant is extremely rare. So rare that there are only two in existence, and they're sitting right over there." He pointed toward Terri's pot and the plant in his flower bed. "Neighbors have asked for clippings, but I always decline. If anyone breaks off a branch with their bare fingers, they will get stuck, just like you. When you have some time, look up information on Australia's stinging nettles plant. Our two plants have a few of their properties, but they've been modified so the leaves don't sting, and they're not invasive."
As he continued speaking, she began flicking her nails, unsure about where he was heading with his story, but it was his tone that unnerved her. Now, she believed that instead of performing the experiment, she'd become an integral part of the experiment.
"You and the plant are connected now. Make sure you take care of it," he said as he finished.
The professor's vague lecture was over, and Terri wondered if all college lectures were as vague. However, his last two sentences explained what needed to be done to continue this so-called impromptu experiment.
"Can I use fertilizer on the plant?"
"Of course. It's a regular plant, like all the others. Just tend to it like any other plant."
"What happens if the plant dies?"
The professor's face turned grim. "That's something you want to avoid. Try your best not to let it die..." His voice trailed off, like there was more he had to say.
Again, she flicked her fingernails. His tone signaled danger, but she didn't know from where.
The professor pointed to the pot and said, "Okay, take your plant home and enjoy it. It will grow fast and outward like lily pads, then slow once the leaves touch the edge of the pot. The leaves will shed naturally, but don't pull them off. The plant itself is very hardy and can last through our winters. The most important thing to remember is that the plant is harmless as long as it's in one piece. I'm advising you to not let people touch it. You can make up some silly old excuse why they can't, but whatever you do, don't break a branch. You'll know if you do."
More cryptic instructions. He was withholding something, but she became too wary to ask any more questions today. She stood and helped the professor back to his feet, then held the screen door open while he fumbled with his keys.
"Thank you, Terri. Both you and Gayle have a brilliant future in science. Don't let it pass you by."
Hearing such a compliment come from a true research scientist was something she'd keep with her forever.
*****
Terri found an empty spot on the floor near her bedroom window and set the pot there. When she stepped back, it looked ridiculous. Such a large pot for a single skinny branch, but the professor said make sure to take care of it. She found a cup in the kitchen, filled it with water, then poured it on the plant. The water was quickly absorbed, except on the patch of soil from the professor's yard. It had pooled around the branch and stayed there.
She figured she was in the experiment's observational phase now, so she documented how the water pooled around the branch in a small notepad she had lying around. Although she had no reason to record the oddity, the professor's words resonated with her.
From now on, the plant was her experiment.
By the next week, the small branch developed a stem on the side, and the surrounding soil glistened. Terri took pictures and videos of the plant, and it soon became an obsession. By mid-April, the plant had five smaller stems protruding from the side of the branch, and from each sprouted a single greenish-red rolled-up leaf. A week later, the leaves unfolded and lay on the soil surrounding the plant, their red spines in full view. Terri documented every bit of its miraculous growth, but her focus on her plant faded once the first week of May had arrived.
It was time for finals, and she focused more on her schoolwork. The next week, Terri noticed that her concentration waned, and she felt sluggish. She was sure she was coming down with something, but she had no temperature or other obvious symptoms. Her lethargy became so severe, she stayed home the last two days of the week.
As Terri lay in bed, staring out the window, she noticed the leaves on her plant. When was the last time she'd watered it? She crawled out of bed and made her way into the kitchen to get some water. Back inside her bedroom, she looked at the plant, and it looked the way she felt. The stems no longer supported the leaves, which had drooped. She poured the water and watched it pool around the plant's center, then she crawled back into bed and fell asleep.
When Terri’s eyes opened again, she felt energized. No more sluggishness. She hopped out of bed, ready to find some clothes to wear. Her eyes glanced past the plant, and she paused. The plant looked healthy. Its stems were sturdy once again, and the leaves were strong. It was an odd coincidence—odd enough to document.
"It's connected to you."
The professor's words haunted her now, and she wasn't sure if he was using it as a metaphor or being literal. Before the school year ended, the plant's leaves had reached the edges of the pot, with the longest stems drooping just over the edge.
