Tasya
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“Where in the heck did you go the other day!? I was waiting here, and you never returned!” She was all hellfire, and it was evident from how she roared that this inferno had been burning for some time. “Some elderly couple even offered a drinking straw to help me dig. A drinking straw! How could anyone believe they could dig with a drinking straw? Still, they offered up something quicker and more tangible than you, without even making the promise to do so!” The black-haired girl's pale cheeks flushed red with anger and Hugh anticipated that she would peg him between the eyes with her spoon.
Hugh said nothing, ashamed that he had disappointed the girl.
He wanted to muster up an excuse for his tardiness, but he couldn't bear to tell her that it was due to a pair of talking dogs. Unable to articulate himself, he did what he thought to be the next best thing.
He unslung his backpack, shifted it onto his chest, and plunged his hand deep inside. He rummaged around the bag, fingers risking nicks and papercuts from all his work documents but was unable to locate the spade.
Hugh panicked and doubted whether Timmy had given the spade back to him.
The girl rested her hands on her lap and observed Hugh as he dove his arm shoulder deep into the bag. The raging red in her cheeks gave way to their usual pale, and her pinched lips suppressing a smile told Hugh that she was getting amusement out of him looking like an incompetent magician failing to pull an uncooperative rabbit out of a hat.
Frustration and worry were overcoming Hugh, fearing that he had been too ignorant to put the spade back in the bag when he had been speaking to Timmy, so he evoked the final solution for when one faces a lost phone, key or knickknack in a bag.
He flipped the bag over and dumped all its contents to the ground.
Work papers and files, pencils, crumpled up caf'e checks, unused plastic utensils, a pin depicting a smiling spaniel in front of a sunset that Hugh didn’t even know he owned, charging wires and other loose items that he had forgotten even existed, came tumbling out of the bag in a freefall mess.
But, the spade was not among the mess.
Desperate to hear metal bouncing and scraping against concrete, Hugh shook the bag like a house cleaner waving and whipping a dirty and shoe trodden rug over the balcony. Just as Hugh thought his hands were going to dislocate from his wrists, he heard what he had longed for and then some.
“Wow…” The black-haired girl whispered after the spade skidded and skipped across the cement into arm’s reach.
Kicking up soil, she scrambled over to the spade, snatched it up and held it to the sun.
In the same manner that Timmy had, she held it by the handle and slowly rotated it. She examined the edges and how the sunrays reflected off the faded metal.
“This is exquisite.” She said, copying not only Timmy’s words from not too long ago, but also his pronunciation and intonation.
“It was my grandmother’s.” Hugh said and kept to himself how Timmy’s and the girl’s admiration for the spade baffled him. To Hugh, it was just an old spade that his grandmother had used. “Seeing that you enjoy working in the flowerbed, and are in need of the correct tool for the job, I think she would be happy for you to have it.”
The black-haired girl’s eyes grew wider than sunflowers.
“I can really have her spade?” The girl asked full of disbelief.
“Of course, you can have it.” Hugh said and scratched his head, still confused by the awe with which the girl was showing to the spade. “I don’t think I’ve touched it once in my life until this week. You’ll make better use out of it than I.”
“That’s… That’s so nice of you.” The black-haired girl said. She gripped the handle with both hands and pressed the spade’s flat surface to her chest. To Hugh she appeared to be afraid that he would go back on his words and steal it away from her. “I’m sorry I was mean to you before, about you not returning. I could’ve waited a bit longer for you to return.”
“All’s well that ends well.” Hugh said, touched by her apology. Not many people apologize anymore, nor mean it when they do. “I’m here. You’re here. And you finally got the spade. So, what’s next?”
She burst out laughing, humor returning to her.
“What’s next you ask? What do you think is next when one has a spade in hand?” She extended her arm upwards and pointed the spade to the sky, looking like the true incarnation of the soil knight. “We dig!”
She scuttled back to her previous spot in the flowerbed and stabbed the spade into the soil. She proceeded to make her holes, thrusting, lifting, and placing soil. The spade became an extension of her hand as she fell into an efficient and mechanical rhythm of soil removal. Hugh stood there and watched, seeing a shine of innocent happiness across the girl’s face.
Hugh stood there for a few minutes more, admiring her dedication to digging, when she slowly came to a stop and looked up at him. The joy in her face had not waned but had become mixed with concern.
She placed the spade upon her lap, not minding the soil on her clothes.
“I’m sorry. I just got so wrapped up in the spade, and with digging, that I ignored you.” She looked around at the holes that she had made. “Would you like to help me dig? There are plenty of more holes to make.”
“Sure, why not?” Hugh crossed into the flowerbed and sat down next to the girl.
“Wait one second!” The girl pipped up. “Aren’t you afraid to get your clothes dirty?”
“They’re just clothes, no worries at all.” Hugh gave a dismissive shrug. He wasn’t going to bring up that he had already been in flowerbed. “If they get dirty then I’ll wash them. But, what should I dig with? My hands?”
“While not the best digging tool,” the black-haired girl tossed the spoon to Hugh, “it gets the job done.”