Being a gardener in New York City was ironic enough, but it paled in comparison to Eva's parents running a concreting business. They had disowned her two years ago, now, and she hadn't heard a peep from Mr or Mrs Kresk since. Which she'd been fine with, more or less – it was nice, not having to worry about what they thought, but sometimes she found herself reaching out for something that was no longer there. But she managed. She was even getting used to it.
Which made this visit all the stranger.
"The cat's still alive, then?" her mother remarked, as Eva made them both tea. "I'm surprised."
Rachel Carson, a spherical tabby who got her name from Eva's favourite agriculturalist, gave an unimpressed meow and went back to sleep. Eva wished she could do the same.
"What do you want, Mom?" she asked, handing over a mug and taking a seat on the other side of the room.
"Your father and I are getting a divorce. I thought it best to tell you in person."
"Why? It's not like we're related or anything," Eva replied, reaching out to rotate her cheese plant so the smaller leaves were facing the sun.
"That was your own fault," said Mrs Kresk. "You were a disgrace to the family."
"How?!"
"You had a drinking problem."
"Everyone has a drinking problem," Eva said. "Besides, I had good reason for mine."
"I highly doubt that –"
"You! You and Dad!"
"Blaming one's parents is a coward's excuse, Evaline."
"Spare me," the daughter snapped. "You think I moved halfway across the country for the climate? The job prospects? I did it to escape that damn house you made me call home. If I had stayed a half-hour longer I'd've ended up as vice manager of the… the Tarmac Levelling Branch of Kresk Concrete. Or something like that, anyway.
Her mother, who had the posture of a steel lightning rod at the most relaxed of times, stiffened. "There's nothing wrong with –"
"No! I know. I just… you never let me do what I wanted to do, that's all," Eva said. She took a sip of her tea, even though it was still too hot to drink.
"Because it wasn't the right path for you, Evaline. Nobody ever got their 401k from being a groundskeeper."
"There's more to life than retirement packages, Mom." Eva gave up on the tea and got to her feet. "C'mon. Let me show you something."
%
The city weather, indecisive at best, had resolved itself into a bright and bitter cold by the time Eva and her mother made it to Central Park. The year was falling towards winter, so the trees were starting to brown at the edges – like toast, Eva had always thought. Like perfectly done toast. It was a Sunday, so kids were running around screaming at each other and kicking up leaf storms in their wake. Eva wondered what they thought of the severe woman in her weekend pantsuit and her scruffy, tattooed companion whose boots were more mud than sole.
"You never just let me be happy," Eva said.
Her mother lowered her eyebrows. "We always wanted the best for you."
"No," she replied, "you always wanted the most successful for me. The most lucrative." She stopped herself and counted to ten before continuing. "I'm okay not being rich and powerful like you and Dad. I'm okay with people not taking me seriously because I don't wear smart shoes or a tie. I'm okay just doing what I enjoy doing, with the people I enjoy being with."
"Feelings like that don't last, Evaline."
"Just like your marriage, huh?"
There was a ringing silence, filled with the sounds of whispering trees and kids at play.
Eva flushed. "Oh, God. Mom, I didn't mean it."
"No," said Mrs Kresk, "you're right." She looked down at her manicured hands, which were turning slightly blue with the chill in the air. "That died a long time ago. It just wasn't logistically sound to split up with a child and a business depending on our marriage. But I never lied to you, Evaline. That was important to me. We never pretended we were something that we were not. It wasn't happy but it wasn't false, either."
"You always were pretty brutal with the whole honesty thing," Eva said. "I remember crying over a lot of art projects in middle school."
"I'm… sorry, Eva. You're not a failure."
She smiled. "Thanks, Mom," she said, "I know that took a lot of effort."
"You've done an impressive job of mowing the grass here, or whatever it is you do."
"You got the gist of it."
"And you're happy?"
She thought about it. "Not all the time," she said, "but enough for it to be worth it."
"Good. That's good."
"I hope the divorce goes okay. You want me to set you up a Tinder profile? We could double date."
"Absolutely not," said Mrs Kresk, and Eva laughed. Around them, the green glow of the park melted the cold in the air.
A/N this chapter is brought to you by my creative writing seminar, because I was too lazy to make a new character up.