On a rainy Saturday morning, the orchid Suna had been growing for the past few months pulled itself free from its pot, shook off the excess dirt, and declared that it was leaving now.

“Have at it,” Suna said from her spot behind the counter. She didn’t look up from her botany magazine. She thought the plant should have been gone at least three weeks ago and she was glad to be rid of it.

The orchid opened the door and walked right out into the rain, its head turned up to gather the water between its petals. Suna put the pot and its dirt into the compost pile. Whatever would grow from it next wouldn’t be any good and she wanted to save herself the headache.

It came back two days later, looking fitter than Suna expected. She didn’t greet it but scowled when it scared away a browsing old woman with its unkempt appearance. If it stayed in its pot, she would have taken a shot at trimming it into something more aesthetically pleasing for humans.

“Where is my pot?” It asked.

“I threw it out,” she replied. “You know how this goes.”

It shook its arms up and down in anger, shaking loose a few petals. It stomped about the small crowded shop and knocked over a few rose bouquets, sunflower arrangements and the peonies that Suna was trimming on the counter. It left in a huff, slamming the door shut.

///

Suna sometimes forgot that the flowers were as attentive to her as she was to them, so it was a surprise to see the orchid dating the man she had her eye on the next week. The man, David, would stop by the shop and admire the flowers Suna had placed just outside the windows, letting their vines and leaves tangle over the edge and down to the sidewalk to entice buyers. They would exchange short greetings that eventually warmed into quick conversations. He wore a suit every day. He had very small ears and Suna liked him very much.

Really, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to see him one morning, walking by with the orchid, arm-in-arm. She could see traces of its pollen on his cheek and cut off the wrong branch from the arrangement she had been working on. As they passed, the orchid purposefully turned its flower towards her, its stamen bouncing condescendingly with each step.

Suna patiently watched David and the orchid pass by day after day for two weeks and, on the first afternoon she saw neither, she closed the shop early, packed her bag, and left for David’s home. The house sat on a spacious lot, stuck between a two-flat apartment and an abandoned lot bordered by a decrepit chain link fence. It was a handsome building, one that Suna spent her daydreams imagining she lived in when she and David inevitably had their meet-cute and got married. At least, before the orchid seduced him.

She approached the front door, painted a vibrant red, and knocked. Leaning forward, she strained her ear to listen for any signs of life. For a moment, she thought she imagined an exhale, deep and weary, before jerking her head back as the door opened. David stood on the other side, smiling like he always did. He didn’t seem harmed or even tired.

“Oh, you’re the flower shop lady!”

Well, that certainly did wonders for Suna’s confidence. She shifted nervously from side to side, half coping mechanism, half attempts to see past his body and into the house for any signs of the orchid.

“I, uh, just wanted to check on the orchid,” she said, wincing.

“Oh, I didn’t know you did house calls!”

“This is a unique situation.”

David laughed. “That’s true! Please, come in, I don’t mind a check-up. I’d like it to last as long as possible.”

Suna stepped into the foyer, eyes darting wildly around the room. There was a small table against the foyer wall with a small stack of mail and a letter opener. A shoe cubby was on the other side, three pairs of dress shoes, two pairs of sneakers, and a pair of workbooks inside. There was a single framed picture in the foyer, a photo—or painting, she couldn’t tell—of lilies on water, bursts of sunlight dotted along the water from the canopy of trees above.

David led her into the living room, a cozy space that was exactly how Suna imagined it. A large couch took up most of the room, perfect for daytime naps, alongside a coffee table and a television set. A book was left open on the coffee table, bookmark laying flat next to it.

“Well?” David asked.

Suna jolted. She turned her head this time, wondering if she missed the orchid somehow.

“Where is it?”

David gestured widely with his arms, indicating the entire room.

Suna coughed. “May I use the bathroom?”

“Oh, that’s a great idea.” She didn’t question it. He told her the bathroom was upstairs, the second door to the left. Suna went up two steps at a time, hurrying into the bathroom. Putting the toilet seat down, she sat down with a huff, putting her face in her hands. The situation wasn’t what she expected. Putting her bag down on the floor in front of her, Suna fished out a small notebook and pen. She flipped to her notes on orchids and catalogued the situation.

Orchid became human-sized. Is now a house—new development? Also likes men (or spiting me). Threat level unknown.

She put her notebook away and washed her face in the sink. In the mirror, she looked frazzled but focused. There was a strong smell coming from behind a mirror, one that filled the room but was at its most powerful here, inches from her face. She pulled the mirror back, revealing the medicine cabinet. The shelves were gone, either removed by David or subsumed by the orchid, whose flower now nested itself behind the mirror.

Suna held her breath, waiting for the orchid to act, to spit pollen in her face, to wiggle a stamen, but it did not. Its petals twitched, a movement of acknowledgment, and then relaxed, falling limp. She closed the medicine cabinet, picked up her bag, and walked out of the bathroom.

David was waiting for her in the living room with an expectant smile.

“It’s fine,” she said. His smile brightened. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Great! You know, I really have to thank you. It fixed some things in the house I’ve been meaning to do for ages. It’s a real lifesaver!”

Suna nodded dumbly. She was desperately trying to remember if there was any chance she had missed a few of the orchid seeds when disposing of them. She could imagine her shitty apartment building, life breathed back into it by the strong roots of an orchid. She imagined a house, much like David’s, sitting on the abandoned lot next door. She would grow a big house, one big enough to expand her flower shop and give her a new home right upstairs, as she had always dreamed.

She left without saying another word to David. He called after her, but she ignored him, walking briskly down the block before breaking into a run after she turned the corner. She bolted back into her shop, tearing apart the backroom for any hint of orchid seeds. When she couldn’t find any in her seedbox, she looked behind the register, finding a small plastic bag with a singular seed inside. Nothing was written on the bag, nor was any note attached to it. This must be the orchid seed she forgot to dispose of, she thought.

Suna mixed the soil herself, careful to make sure the seed had the most optimal, healthy dirt it could possibly have. The pot she planted it in was comically too large, but she wouldn’t risk a thing for her dream home.

Over the weeks, she tended to it carefully, delighted to find that it was an orchid as it sprouted and grew taller. She watched the growing buds patiently, eager to see them bloom. She started keeping track of all the things she wanted to fix in her apartment building, hoping that would help guide the new orchid into its role.

When this new orchid bloomed, it was the star of the shop, attracting the gazes of every customer that walked in. Suna would smile politely and tell every customer that it wasn’t for sale and recommend a different flower for their arrangement. After the shop closed, she would sit next to it, watching its petals for any unnatural twitch.

Disappointed, Suna realized after a month of observation that this was a perfectly normal orchid. She sold it to a young man looking for a Mother’s Day gift for a ridiculous price. She took a walk to David’s home afterward, surprised to find that the abandoned lot had been joined by the now vacant lot of David’s home. The orchid house had been torn down. A sign hammered into the lawn displayed the name of the realtor company and a ‘SOLD’ sticker slapped over the realtor’s face. 

Suna never saw David or grew another orchid again.

– Nergal Malham