What's Good; What's Left - pt ii

Vesta once again found herself standing in the Heavenly Embassy. With one more week before her next session, she found herself with a lot of unresolved thoughts and feelings she wished she wasn’t having– and yet, she found herself drawn back. She sat alone in the Garden of Virtues, taking in the familiar sights and smells. She couldn’t determine whether it was comforting or whether it was making her feel worse. 

Her solitude was interrupted by Primrose, entering with a few gardening tools and with gardening gloves. Vesta wondered why he bothered with the gloves when his outfit was so white, it seemed he was destined to get dirty no matter what.

“Good afternoon, Vesta,” Primrose greeted politely.

“Good afternoon,” she replied.

“I see you’ve returned to the Embassy,” he said.

“That I have.”

He knelt on the ground and began harvesting some of the plants in front of him. Since Vesta never cared much for gardening, she didn’t know what they were; they weren’t ambrosia, though. She knew that much for sure.

She watched him quietly for a few moments, searching her memory for what they could be. The leaves were familiar, certainly…

“What do you have there?” she asked.

“I’m harvesting tea leaves for a delivery I need to make later today,” Primrose answered. “Though… between the newcomer and that dispute I need to settle, I’m not sure that I’ll have much time.”

“It’s still early,” Vesta pointed out. “You’ve only listed two things.”

“It can be… quite the process,” he began, “acclimating new cherubuns to Burrowgatory. When they seek my help, it’s usually something that takes half the day, at least. Showing them apartments, touring the Embassy; maybe even taking them down to the Church of Sulfur. The dispute I mentioned has been ongoing for about a week, now, too– so I can’t imagine that will take me any less than half of the rest of daylight.”

Primrose exhaled. “I hate to be so unreliable…”

Vesta’s finger twitched. The years in the Meadow had taught her to lend a helping hand whenever possible, and she could feel that instinct rearing its head. She’d spent a lot of time since arriving in Burrowgatory suppressing those instincts– her new life involved indulgence and selfishness: two things she was not allowed to have in the Meadow.

She did not want to help.

She did not want to want to help.

Fuck it. Maybe she should indulge this feeling. It could still count toward her new persona.

“I don’t have any plans today,” she said, “so I could run your delivery.”

“Oh, no, you don’t need to worry about it,” Primrose said. “I was only complaining.”

“Alright, if you insist.”

“Well, it was thoughtful of you to offer…”

“Do you want me to do it or not?” she snapped. This sort of waffling infuriated her; she couldn’t help what she said next: “This is exactly why I left the Meadow. No one ever said what they meant. I said I’d do the delivery, didn’t I? If you want my help, don’t act like you don’t. It’s that simple.”

Primrose faltered for a moment. His pride was a little bit hurt, but he did recognize that getting defensive in that moment would likely result with him still needing to do this delivery.

“Yes, I would like your help,” he said.

“Great! Was that so hard?”

Primrose carefully packaged the leaves and handed them off, giving Vesta specific instructions on finding the recipient’s apartment. He thanked her profusely before sending her on her way.

Vesta found Dove’s apartment with little hassle. She sort of remembered Dove– well, of course she remembered the scene they’d caused in the Meadow. From before, though– she had a vague memory of being on her hands and knees in the garden, with Dove trying to gently guide her toward successful cultivation. Vesta had gotten frustrated with Dove’s ever-patient attitude and had stomped off.

She hoped Dove would not recognise her.

Vesta knocked on the apartment door. A muffled voice sounded from the other side, and after a moment, it was opened.

“Oh, hello!” Dove greeted. They were clearly surprised. 

“Hello,” Vesta replied.

“What can I do for you?” they asked. “Are you new to Burrowgatory?”

“Aren’t we all, relatively-speaking?” Vesta returned.

“That is very true!” Dove offered a light laugh. “Come inside! Jackal and I were just getting ready to have tea. It’s the last of my stash, but I’m expecting Primrose sometime today to drop off some more. Anyways, there’s still plenty to go around.”

“Primrose won’t be making it today,” Vesta said, offering out the package. “He got tied up with a newcomer and some dispute.”

“Oh, that was so nice of you!” Dove took the package eagerly. “You have to come in now! It’s Vesta, right?”

“Oh, um, yes.”

“I remember you! I tried to help you in the gardens once, right? I’m sorry I couldn’t help more. I’m not really the best teacher.”

Dove took Vesta by the hand, and lead her into the small apartment they shared with Jackal.

“Don’t worry about it,” Vesta replied. She really wasn’t a big talker– she wasn’t sure how to handle this amount of friendliness.

“Jackal, we’ve got a guest!” Dove called, turning into the kitchen.

Jackal sat at a small, round table with three other empty chairs around it. If all seats were filled, it would be quite cramped. She offered Vesta a cool nod as she entered the kitchen. Vesta returned the gesture.

The kettle began to whistle.

“Okay, just take a seat! I’ll take care of this,” Dove said. They headed over to the stove to continue prepping the tea.

On the table, there was a small tower full of little treats. There were quite a few finger sandwiches, scones, and a nice variety of little pastries.

“Help yourself,” Jackal said. “We made too much.”

Vesta picked up one cucumber sandwich. She wasn’t really all that hungry, so she wasn’t planning on eating very much. When she took a bite, though, she realised she was going to have to try more– it was delicious. She could hardly believe it was supposed to be a simple cucumber sandwich– which often tasted flavourless to her, anyways.

“What’s in this?” she asked.

“You like it?” Jackal replied, pride creeping into her tone and onto her face. “The sauce is my own special recipe.”

“It’s very good,” Vesta nodded.

“We may not have had flavours like that in the Meadow,” Dove said, “but they never had tea like ours!”

They brandished a small tray with a floral teacup for each participant, a bowl with sugar cubes, a small milk pitcher, and, of course, a teapot. When the tray was placed on the table, Jackal got to work pouring the tea and offering the first cup to Dove; the second to Vesta; and kept the third to herself.

As the three chatted and sipped tea, Vesta had that feeling again. It wasn’t snuffed out as easily– it was sort of warm, she thought. Or maybe that was the tea. Or maybe it was both; entwined, separate in sensation, but identical in feeling. The notion didn’t make much sense.

She looked down at her reflection in the cup, and she had that thought again, too: This is all that is left.

She didn’t really know what the thought and the feeling had to do with each other. She didn’t care to examine it in the moment, either– that was what she paid her therapist for.

Tea was often shared between groups of cherubuns for social events. Vesta had always found them terribly boring, and even stuffy; but this time, she found herself enjoying this. It was strange. Maybe this, too, was something that was good about… where she came from.