The Main Character
Chapter 8

It was one of the nicest days of the year and Finch was out of blueberries. The sun was coming in through the windows of his apartment, shining on the polished wooden floors and illuminating the white pages of the journals that lay strewn about it. He resolved to make the most of the day by going on an excursion and had been going through his notes to see if he could find out the name of the flower that had smelled so wonderful. The one he had found the day MC was over. He decided that if he found the flower in the wild again that he would take a sample. Or two. One for scientific research and the other for wooing purposes. MC would love it. If just the smell had gotten her to come back with him the night before, he could only imagine what would happen if he gave her the whole plant. Now, if he could only get hint as to what the flower was and where he could find more. He did not want to assume that he would be able to stumble across them again. After exhausting his limited book collection on wild plant life, he realized he needed some help.

In a last-ditch effort, he called Margaret. Margaret was a friend he’d gone to school with that worked in pharmaceuticals. Now she worked with oncological medications, but was also very well versed in herbal medicines and therefore had an extensive knowledge of healing plants. Finch could only hope that this flower was one such plant.

As the phone rang Finch found himself fiddling with the unevenly twisted cord of the phone. Why was he so nervous? “Margaret! Hey, Marg. How’s it going? I’ve got a question for you!” He wasn’t skipping a beat. He was very anxious to know if he would indeed be able to surprise MC with the flower she had be so keen on.

“Hey there Finch. Are you asking me to drinks tonight cause if so, the answer is yes! I know it’s only been a few days, but…Actually, I was listening to this song the other day that reminded me of all those times at school when we would order Chinese and drink wine and listen to your record collection. Do you remember that…”

“Ah, Margaret that would be great, but I actually have plans for tonight. Definitely, another time though. I’m actually calling because I wanted to ask for your help identifying a plant I’m looking for.”

“Oh, no problem. It’s no bother.” Margaret said suspiciously like a person who was bothered. Her tone further deflated as she continued. “Just describe the leaf vein patterns and if there were any nuts, berries, or flowers. Stuff like that. I’ll see what I can do.” Finch felt bad so he made a mental note to invite Margaret over later this week, but he couldn’t be distracted from his primary objective.

“Of course,…sure…I’ve got some sketches right here. I’m staring at them…but I’m not really sure…” he laughed nervously, “umm, how do I describe a leaf?” His face turned a little red as he waited for the resulting silence to end. He was an exceptionally smart guy and was hardly ever made to feel this abominably thick. His hand was getting sweaty on the phone receiver as if he were being publicly humiliated.

“Like how many veins each leaf has, if the veins spider out or reaches the edge without splitting off, if the edges are smooth or jagged. Spots, bug bites taken out of them; shapes of those, lack of those, frequency of those. Smell, color, feel. Stuff like that,” Margaret said flatly before a long expectant pause. “Does that make sense?” She waited longer. “Finch?”

“Right. Maybe it would be easier if I started with the flower.” His hand was sufficiently tangled in the telephone wire from excessive anxious twirling. He struggled to free it and grab his field journal for reference. “Okay,” he held his journal like Hamlet did Yorick’s skull. “Overall, it’s a light blue but with dark purple center and it has very delicate light-brown speckles over the purple centers. There are only six petals on each flower and they’re very triangular. Also, the pollen seems to be more orange than yellow.” As he waited, he tossed his notebook aside. He just wanted a simple answer. As he waited something caught his eye.

On the other side of Finch’s apartment, a note had been slipped under the door. It was in an envelope made from the page of an old map and sealed with red wax stamp. It would have been a very mysterious and romantically enigmatic moment had Finch’s natural reaction not been to immediately end his phone conversation and open the door to see who had left it, only to find a very startled figure with dark hair and bangs.

“Oh, hi. I was hoping you were out,” sputtered a confused MC. “I thought you were out on an excursion today. It’s beautiful!” She had quickly regained her footing conversationally, but was still generally confused by his presence and the fact that he had ruined her very coy and somewhat quixotic gesture of leaving a note about when and where to meet up for a second date. Surely, or so she had thought, a normal person would have left the door alone and been more focused on the note. Obviously, MC would not have done any such thing had she known that Finch was on the phone with his date from a few nights previous.

“Actually, I’m about to head out now,” he gestured back toward the receiver he had left face up on his kitchen counter top, next to his field journal. All at once he remembered that he was in fact supposed to be on the phone. “I’m on the phone, give me a second.” He was speaking as he was walking back into his apartment and beckoning her inside. “Come in though, I’ll just be a second.” He speech was rushed and he already had the phone in his hand, not giving MC a chance to protest. Clearly uncomfortable and unprepared for the situation at hand, MC stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She chose a seat in Finch’s sunken sitting room to give him a space buffer beyond which he could conduct his call in private. She was actively trying not to listen to what he was saying so she occupied her mind with playing out scenarios in which she could grab the note without Finch noticing. It was one thing to drop-off a cute note and leave, it was another to have it read in front of you. Especially if said note referenced the sender’s desire to get to know the receiver ‘with their tennis shoes off’. Her mind was coming up blank. It was silly to have written it in the first place, she thought – she was still avoiding Quinn and what had happened between them. Why was she so quick to move on with someone else she hardly knew? She chastised herself silently for being so foolish.

On the other end of the apartment Finch was trying to discreetly finish up his phone conversation. If he spoke too loudly and MC heard, then the surprise would be ruined. “Sorry about that Margaret, someone came to the door. Are you still there?” He spoke quietly into the phone, cupping the mouth-piece with his hand like a small child telling a secret. “Margaret?” The line was dead. Margaret had hung up already. That was a very unsuccessful phone call. Not only had he not gotten the information he needed from Margaret, but he also insulted her twice. First, when he said that he hadn’t called to hang out, and second when he walked away from the phone without saying goodbye. Finch sighed heavily, but made up his mind to follow through with his plan anyway. Perhaps if he brought his field journal and tried to re-trace the steps of his previous excursion he could find the flower again. In fact, they could ‘stumble upon’ them together. If it wasn’t known, they could name it together. Well, he would name it. But she could feel like she helped. Maybe. He’d wait to see how it went.

MC was still in Finch’s living room when he came over doing that strange jog-walk that people do when they’re halfway across a cross walk when the light turns. “MC! Hey, sorry about that, what’s going on?”

“Oh, not that much. I thought I’d check in with you to see if you wanted to hang out again, but after I knocked I thought you weren’t in so I slipped you that note...” That had been her intention, but she realized her mistake in reminding Finch of the note since it was still hanging out on the floor in front of the door. The note that had seemed sexy, but now just felt idiotic. She concentrated all her energy on stopping her face from turning red while she waited for Finch to call her on her lie. She had not knocked. She did not intend on speaking to him. But he was too distracted to realize the falsehood in her story. He was just happy she was there.

“Well it’s lucky that you stopped by, I’m actually about to head out on an excursion today. Since you’re here, do you want to come with me?” His smile was warm and unexpecting. He truly had a way to make people feel at ease.

“That sounds absolutely perfect.” She looked back at him with a sense of contentment. “Am I allowed to do that?” she chuckled a little. “Is it okay if I come along? I’m not going to get taken out by men in sunglasses and suits am I?”

“No, of course not. I’m allowed guests.” He said with unverified confidence. He really did not know, but there was no point in saying anything. As long as she was not caught taking any videos or photographs they should be fine. MC wasn’t the type to do that anyway, she would be more likely to have her nose glued to her sketch book. “This will be great! Are you ready to go now?” His smile was infectious and there was no way she could say no despite the fact she was not really ready. She was wearing heeled boots with a bright blue sundress and a mustard colored sweater. She was dressed to go shopping rather than traipse around the wilderness.

“I mean I would have liked to have grabbed my sketchbook if I knew I was going to go on such an exciting adventure, but other than that, I don’t really know what I would need. I haven’t been outside the metropolis since my fourth-grade field trip. Is what I’m wearing okay?”

He walked toward her and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close. “What you’re wearing is great.”

Her head tilted to the side slightly as she squinted at him skeptically. Their mouths were nearing each other but she stopped short. “You have no idea what I’m wearing do you?” He had no idea. He didn’t really care.

A few hours later Finch was holding MC’s hand as she stepped onto the soft overgrown grass of a field a few miles outside the boarder of the metropolis. The sun was still out, shining its late afternoon yellow-orange light over the plant life. A cool breeze brushed the long grass causing it to rustle softly. There was no trace of any large animals, therefore there was a sense of extraordinary emptiness. There were a few birds, some butterflies, and a selection of insects moving around the plants in the distance, but they were clearly alone. Finch was unimpressed by the white noise of the outside world, but MC was caught by the far-off chirping and cooing mixed with other nondescript sounds of nature. Overall, it was soothing and calm, but bright. There was nothing she could quite compare it to. She had of course heard these noises in old movies and recordings, but the real thing was something different. It took her off-guard. The sound touched every tree, every leaf, every blade of grass and made it vibrate with a sense of life. It was a completely different setting than that of metropolis. Everything there was mechanized and hard. It lacked the calmness that MC felt outside.

Once they got moving again, they found a nice clearing Finch said he often came to during his excursions. It was near this clearing that he had found that flower, but he had not remembered that yet. The clearing was a flat area covered in soft grass and speckled with purple, white, and yellow wild flowers. He unpacked the picnic basket he had been carrying and they shared a small dinner with a bottle of oaky red wine. There were fresh baguettes, berries, soft cheeses, and assorted meats. Everything you could want in a picnic. And nothing else could be desired in a picnic setting.

“This is absolutely stunning.” MC said for probably the hundredth time. Her mind was completely blank save for what was going on in each exact moment, and every moment was gorgeous. “I don’t know why you ever leave. What appeal does the metropolis have after you’ve been here?” Finch smiled the way a parent does when their child declares they will grow up to be a dinosaur.

“It is fantastic, isn’t it? The problem is that you couldn’t live out here.” He didn’t want to explain it further. It would ruin the day they’d had to discuss the imperfections of the land. The truth was, it was completely inhabitable for large mammals. After the outbreak of GWO, nearly 60 years ago, now, everything within five miles outside the metropolis was burned. At this point, the herbage that grew there was not substantial enough to support a full food chain. There were some small mammals that had moved into the area just recently, but there weren’t enough of them to satiate the appetite of a large mammal like a human. “I do love it out here though. I get antsy if I’m away for longer than a week or two. Even in the winter. I just have to find a reason.”

“What did you say your reason was today? Is picnicking an officially sanctioned research activity?” MC laughed. From where they were sitting, the valley below and the mountains beyond were visible. She could not take her eyes off them.

While she was looking out into the distance, Finch had been looking at her. At her last comment, however, he was suddenly reminded. “I wish. No,” Finch started to get up, “actually, that’s a good point. Thanks for jogging my memory.” He had come for the flowers and could not return without them. He started to walk behind MC through some shrubbery. As he walked, he scanned the bushes for any sign of their blue color. He called back to her as he walked. “My official business out here today was to collect a sample of that flower…the one that you took notice of last time.”

“Oh, that smelly one? What’s it called?”

“I’ve no idea actually.” Finch was struggling to get through some denser areas of shrubbery and his voice was strained as he yelled back to MC. “I was supposed to figure that out before I left, but then you came and I, uh, got distracted.”

MC smiled to herself alone on the blanket. “Well I didn’t mean to get in the way of your work. I guess I forgot what day it is. Hard to keep track of what’s going on when you don’t have a weekly schedule. Pitfalls of being an artist I guess, you become socially inept.”

A long silence followed. The kind of silence that makes you feel like the joke you just made was not nearly as funny as you thought it was. She waited. Uncomfortably.

After a while she could hear a muffled yell. Instead of calling out back to him, she waited for Finch to get closer. Once he did, he shouted again. “I found it MC! I found it and it smells amazing. I got an extra one for each of us actually.”

“Well aren’t you just all that and a bag of chips.” MC said as if she were delighted, but she was not. It was as if she was just presented with a smaller and more beautiful ghost of someone she once loved at their worst moment. Still loved. A person and a moment that still haunted her. Now he was hers to keep. To smell. To fall asleep next to. To watch die. Again.

Back at Finch’s apartment the phone rang. After a few rings the answering machine played his taped messaged, “Hey, it’s Finch Grey. Sorry I missed you, leave me a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.” After a significant pause the caller began speaking, “Hey, Finch it’s Margaret. I’m just calling to let you know to leave that flower alone. I don’t know what happened to you on the phone earlier but, I identified it…it was in one of my old field guide manuals of harmful plants. Anyway, it’s under some government protection…It is medicinal, but…well…just give me a call back later, we can maybe meet up and talk about it over a bottle of wine?” There was another self-conscious pause, “Either way, just call me.”

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