Leila sputtered out a laugh. “Yeah, no shit, Jon.”
“Come on, we’ve got to get that hand stitched up before the storm hits again and we can’t drive to the hospital.” He stood up and held out his hand, motioning for Leila to get up.
“What? No. It’s fine. I’m fine,” Leila said as she scrambled to her feet and took a few steps back.
“Fine?” Jon asked, hands on his hips. The car horn blared. “Leila, I either saw your bone in your hand, or I saw through your hand to the white kitchen tile on the floor. We’re going to the hospital.”
“No, it’s okay,” Leila said resolutely. She’d spent years in the group home learning how to take care of herself, both physically when she got hurt, and emotionally when she felt discarded or in the way. “I don’t need you to do that. I can take care of myself.”
“You listen here,” Jon said, his generally aloof tone gone serious. “Something breaks, we fix it. Together. You—God, I can’t believe this is about to come out of my mouth—you are not a tree, Leila. Not that tree, or any of these little guys you’ve got in the jars.”
“Girls,” Leila corrected, while trying to hide a quick sniffle.
“Yes, girls, lady trees!” Jon exclaimed. “Lizzie and I, we’re not going to give up on you, you hear me? Come on. We need to go.”
“No, no, don’t,” Leila said, clutching her hand and walking along with Jon towards the front door, eying the staircase to the second floor. “I’ll head upstairs and wrap it up in an old t-shirt, it’ll be fine.”
Jon opened the front door to reveal an exasperated-
looking Lisabeth sitting in the driver’s seat of their Prius with the windows open. Leila saw the look of irritation on her face and winced, feeling the pain of previous drives like this one.
Away from a home.
Back to the group home.
Disappointed faces and tears.
“No, no,” Leila muttered to herself, pushing back. “It won’t happen again.” She bolted towards the stairs. This was a good home. It felt right. The two of them, they were trying so hard. She could try harder. She could be what they wanted. “I’ll be upstairs. I’ll just grab a Band-Aid. I’ll grab a Band-Aid and—”
“Damn it, Leila!” Jon shouted, walking in front of her, putting his hands on her shoulders again. She tried to stop herself from shaking but the tears still poured down her face. She was going to mess it all up. Again. She pushed against Jon, and then pulled, trying to go upstairs. Get to the bathroom. Find a towel.
Push these feelings away. Push it all away. She could do it. She just needed to be left alone. She didn’t have to let it take over.
“I know I-I’m not perfect, I know I’m broken, I can do better and, and—”
“Stop it, please!” Jon pleaded. “Just stop it. Look at me.” He pointed at Leila and then at himself. “Look at her.” He did the same with Lisabeth, who now wore a quizzical expression. “We are taking you to get your hand fixed. Not because we have to, or because we’re annoyed about it, or disappointed in some way. It’s because we want to. We need to. If anything, I’m disappointed in myself for letting you use that knife in the sink.”
“I’m not going. I can take care of myself—” Leila started.
“Leila. Leila, listen to me.”
She stared. Jon’s eyes glassed over. He looked on the brink of tears. But not the sort she’d seen so many times before in the eyes of other families who’d brought her in and changed their minds. Not the frustration or the anger that often brewed behind the eyes of those that had given up. Not the rage that surfaced when things weren’t easy. It was a look of someone on the verge of heartbreak.
“We aren’t leaving,” he said, looking at her intently. “Well, we are, we’re taking you to the hospital, and then we’re coming back home. And maybe we’ll stop by Sonic or Wawa on the way home. Whatever you want. Milkshakes. Hoagies. Hoagie milkshakes. Whatever. And we’ll talk. And we’ll laugh about this whole mess. And we’ll think of a way to save your tree, even if it’s just with the little cloned branches and—”
“It’s not about the fucking tree!” Leila shouted through the tears.
“The metaphorical tree then!” Jon exclaimed, the tears now escaping from his eyes as he let out an awkward laugh. “We’re in it to win it, darling. You’re stuck with us. We’re a family now. We are your parents. And we’ll get through this.”
“O-okay,” Leila said, as Jon turned to walk her towards the car. He opened the passenger-side door, and gestured for her to get in. Leila got into the car clutching her hand, and Lisabeth reached over and fastened her seatbelt. Her braids tickled against Leila’s face as Lisabeth got her secured.
“You alright?” Lisabeth asked, smiling gently.
“I think so,” Leila said, wincing as the seatbelt pressed against her arm, pushing softly against her hand. She wriggled it free so she could keep applying pressure with her other hand. “It’ll be okay, for the drive.”
Jon popped back over to the passenger-side window.
“Hey Leila, fun fact,” he said.
“Jon, come on,” muttered Lisabeth. “Now is not the time.”
“Now is precisely the time,” Jon said. “Fun fact, Leila.”
He smiled.
“We’re here for you, and we aren’t going anywhere.”
THREAD: Relocating Year-Old Sapling
SUBFORUM: GARDENING
Relocating Year-Old Sapling
Posted by WithouttheY
JULY 24th, 2017 | 4:07PM
Hey forum! Anyone have solid advice on relocating a sapling? I’ve got a small one that’s just starting to sprout roots, afraid I might shock it if I move it too fast.
RE: Relocating Year-Old Sapling
Posted by WithouttheY
JULY 24th, 2017 | 4:09PM
Oh! I should add that it’s a weeping willow. And it means a lot to me, so don’t give me any business about leaving it where it is or that it’s an invasive species yada yada thanks.
RE: Relocating Year-Old Sapling
Posted by A Dash of Paprika
JULY 24th, 2017 | 4:27PM
Hey. Tomorrow. You. Me. The usual place. Text me.
RE: Relocating Year-Old Sapling
Posted by WithouttheY
JULY 24th, 2017 | 4:30PM
;-)
RE: Relocating Year-Old Sapling
Posted by Toothless
JULY 27th, 2017 | 4:57PM
Actually, I did this once with a birch tree in my yard, my favorite kind of tree. But I believe you mean transplanting, not relocating.
RE: Relocating Year-Old Sapling
Posted by A Dash of Paprika
JULY 27th, 2017 | 5:09PM
Did you seriously just “well, actually” her? Seriously?!
RE: Relocating Year-Old Sapling
Posted by WithouttheY
JULY 27th, 2017 | 5:10PM
Hey thaaaaaaaaaanks for the condescending and unhelpful post there, Toothy.
RE: Relocating (EDIT: TRANSPLANTING) Year-Old Sapling
JULY 27th, 2017 | 5:27PM
Posted by Toothless
shrug that’s what I’m here for.
RE: Relocating Year-Old Sapling
Posted by The Professor of Pruning
JULY 28th, 2017 | 6:27PM
Depends on how deep the roots go, really. As long as it small enough to dig up the entire root system, you should be fine. Luckily willow trees will basically bloom from anything, including branches that just happen to fall on the ground.
Resilient, those trees are. (Note: This should be read in a Yoda voice.)
But, for the purposes of anyone else finding this post, make sure you take enough soil with the root system, go for at least a foot around. If there’s too much resistance, you might have a large root in there. Take your time, you don’t want to damage anything.
It’s actually the best idea to transplant when the trees are dormant, in the winter or the fall, but I’m guessing that’s not an option here. Once you’ve done the transplant, make sure you stake the sapling, as the roots won’t have taken hold just yet.
RE: Relocating Year-Old Sapling
Posted by WithouttheY
JULY 28th, 2017 | 7:39PM
Oh wow! Thank you so much for taking the time to write all that. Thank you!
RE: Relocating Year-Old Sapling
Posted by The Professor of Pruning
JULY 28th, 2017 | 8:15PM
Good luck! Be sure to share some photos of the sapling in its new habitat!
RE: Relocating Year-Old Sapling
Posted by WithouttheY
JULY 28th, 2017 | 8:39PM