Aloe Gerald
A short, odd flash by Maggie Slater
*There is coarse language in this one. You’ve been warned.*
“We’re exchanging vows on Thursday,” Alice said as though she weren’t sitting with a tattooed arm draped around a large potted aloe. Its prickly fronds were thick and robust in the shade from the bistro table’s umbrella.
Christiana waited for Alice to crack a grin, to laugh it off, to make fun of her for her gaping disbelief, but Alice merely sat there, as cozy with the aloe as she might have been with a human lover.
“You’re…marrying a plant.”
“His name’s Gerald, but technically, yes. He’s a six year old Aloe vera, which makes him about twenty-four, so the age-difference isn’t that crazy. Anyway, I wanted you to witness it for us.”
The aloe looked smug to Christiana, cocky to the tips of its tentacular blades. Was it her imagination, or did it lean closer to Alice when she stooped to brush her lips against it?
Alice chuckled. “He says you shouldn’t beat yourself up for being prejudiced against him. He gets that cross-genus relationships can seem a bit weird at first.”
The breeze picked up; Gerald’s fronds shifted, almost vibrating in the moving air. He was so incredibly green, a bright, hungry green that made Christiana suddenly self-conscious of the limp spring salad left on her plate in a pool of sanguine balsamic dressing. She could feel him watching her every move, observing everything she did, absorbing the very light that reflected off her skin and bounced onto his firm leaves.
Christiana took a drag of water at the sudden heat invading her skin.
Yeah. Oh, yeah. Drink that shit. Hydrate, bitch.
She choked. “Wh-what?”
“I said that the ceremony’s going to be at our house, around three o’clock. Just a few friends and the officiant. You know them. Nick, Pauline, Jeremy—the gang. But don’t tell Louise. She wouldn’t understand, but it’d hurt her feelings not to be included. I just don’t want that kind of negative energy on our special day, you know?”
Gerald the Aloe reclined in his pot like a regular, boring plant. He didn’t look any different than any of the ones Christiana had inadvertently killed in the six years since she’d lived on her own. Yet, there was something about him, about the way his largest leaves stroked Alice’s arm possessively, or the way his upper fronds seemed stuck in a perpetual flip-off position. Gerald didn’t give a damn, about anyone, of that she was certain.
“Um, bathroom?”
Alice followed her away from the table, and the moment they were safely out of Gerald’s sight, Christiana grabbed her arm. “He’s weird. I don’t like him.”
“Plants give off really different vibes than humans. You’ll get used to it when you spend some time with him. He’s definitely prickly on the outside, hard to get a handle on, you know? But deep down, he’s really giving. He’s helped me heal more times than I can say.”
Christiana weighted her words, and then swallowing said, “I think he was just coming on to me.”
Alice stiffened. “What?”
“Just now, when I was drinking my water, I heard- I thought he said-”
“Goddammit!” Alice tore free from Christiana’s grasp and went tearing out onto the restaurant patio.
By the time Christiana caught up, Alice was screaming at the plant in front of everyone. “-promised! You swore you’d changed, you pup-of-a-turnip!”
Christiana didn’t catch Gerald’s response, but whatever it was made Alice break into a shrill, angry laugh.
“You think that excuse is going to fly again? That bullshit? After everything we talked about with the counselor, about your disgusting obsession with Evian and Polar Springs commercials, you sick, dirt-sucking freak? I cannot believe I trusted you again after that shit with Louise! I knew, I knew, it was all you, but I blamed her, you gnat-infested sun-whore! Fuck you!”
Patrons at the other tables who had up until now merely watched the fight with startled delight, now jumped up and shouted as Alice grabbed Gerald’s pot and made to throw him across the patio.
The bald middle-aged man snagged the pot from her. “Hey! Hey, now. Let’s all just calm down, okay?”
Tears poured down Alice’s cheeks as Christiana caught her by the shoulders, holding her back.
“You lying shit-monger! We’re through! Don’t come looking for me when you’re wilted and dry and root-rotted, you-!”
The bald man set Gerald back down on the latticed patio table just as a police cruiser glided up to the curb. The door clunked and an officer clambered out. Christiana drew Alice towards the sidewalk.
“He’s not worth it,” she whispered as Alice collapsed against her, sobbing like her sorrow would crack her ribs.
“I loved him so much!” Alice wailed. “I took such good care of him all those years together, how could he hurt me like this?”
Christiana made a soothing sound and glanced back at the café. The police officer was speaking to the bald man now. A single frond lay broken on the concrete. Christiana hurried Alice onward, trying not to think about the stump on Gerald’s shoulder, its healing juices weeping for no one.
Hi there! If you don’t know me, I’m Maggie Slater. I write speculative fiction of a variety of stripes ranging from outright horror, sci-fi, and fantasy to strange, humorous literary stuff. My work has appeared in genre mags like Apex Magazine, Metaphorosis (and even got translated into Mandarin for Science Fiction World), as well as in literary magazines like Redivider and The Core Review.
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