Calendula Blooms
by Charles C. Cole
Part 1 appears in this issue.
conclusion
Joe Avery Deals With Cards
The city was in the middle of a summer afternoon downpour. The raindrops were large and heavy and plentiful. I preferred walking, but not in this. My Uber arrived. To my surprise, my ride, looking something like a cross between a Humvee and a limo, was big enough for a rock band, its instruments and its roadies. It had been recommended by a client.
I dashed out from the building’s entrance, happy not to be trapped by the overwhelming elements, barely making it unscathed. The cabby opened the sliding door remotely. I swooped in and closed the door behind me and was hit by not-unpleasant new-car smell.
“Unique wheels,” I said.
“Got to stand out, but there’s a cost.”
The cabby, looking exactly like me, tossed me a clean towel to wipe the rain out of my eyes.
“Nice trick,” I said, after the shock wore off. Having a business based in large part on faery-folk meant it took a lot to startle me.
“You’ve heard of games where the joker’s wild? That’s me. Patrons either love it or hate it. No in-between. I pulled the image down from your social media account. It’s a gimmick, sure, but nobody else can do it.”
The rain was pelting the car with no indication of slowing. Looking out the rear window was like looking at the back of a waterfall.
“I’m gonna give it a sec if that’s alright,” said the driver. “I’m not licensed for an amphibious assault.”
“Sure.” I glanced back the way I’d come, appreciating my recent escape. In the doorway, an impossibly thin man dressed as the king of hearts looked like he’d just been dumped by his cosplay date. I knew by the way he’d lingered, he had a question for me, but he’d been too shy to ask it. I had plenty of room and a dollop of guilt: the vehicle could easily have been a mobile boardroom. “Do you mind if we add another person?”
The driver squinted, following my gaze. “You mean the playing card? Your dime. It’s a big city.”
“Can you open the door?” He did so. I waved our prospective traveling companion over to join us. The king looked about like he thought I was communicating with someone behind him, but there was no one else. Then he shrugged and sprinted our way, splattering the fallen rain as he did so.
The driver closed the door remotely as soon as our new guest jumped in. That’s when I noticed the human-card was coated in wax; the water rolled off him harmlessly. Another nice trick, though I shouldn’t have been surprised.
“Where’re you headed?” I asked.
“I don’t rightly know, but I know where I came from. Does that help? We could draw a straight line from point A to point B and then from point B to...” He noticed the driver and I were twins. “Imagine the odds!” he said. “You two related?”
“It’s a parlor trick, pal,” explained the driver. “Watch.” Like hitting a switch, he turned into a second humanoid playing card. “A pair of kings.”
“Can you turn into the queen of hearts? That’s my wife. We had a sort of falling out. I’d really like to see her.”
“That’s a heavy lift. Not sight unseen. Maybe off a picture in your wallet.”
The king looked himself over, as if for the first time. “Haven’t got a wallet. Or pockets.”
I jumped in, before things got awkward. “We’re heading to 72nd Street. You going in that direction? I can cover your costs if so.”
“Money! Coin of the realm. I knew I forgot something.”
The driver heard, turned around in his seat. “Maybe you ought to consider walking. Wait for the rain to stop. Enjoy the fresh air.”
“How far,” asked the king, “to the nearest white rabbit?”
The driver and I shared a look, care of his rearview mirror. “I have a friend with a boat,” he said, after a moment, sounding like a doctor explaining maternity to a toddler, “He has a deck. I bet you like decks.”
The king smiled politely. “Lost without one, but not the kind you mean.”
“You two have more in common than you think,” I said. “King meet joker.”
“And you’re Joe Avery, the Hat Man, I suppose.”
“I suppose I am,” I said.
“Imagine the odds! Things are a bit unsettled back at court. We’ve been trying to keep a lid on it, but the queen of hearts ran off with the king of diamonds — from another deck! She’s always been a bit of an adrenalin junkie. I just want things to look normal until they can be normal. What say you, Mr. Cabby? I have a life-size portrait of my other half back at the palace for your study. I’ll make it worth your while.”
The cabby turned back into his “joker wild” self in the blink of an eye, impossibly thin, complete with tall floppy crown with multiple dangling bells. He peered out his driver’s window into the downpour and sighed. I saw a genuinely sad clown.
“Forgive me, Joe. It’s not that humans are unbearable. And cars are a sweet way to get around. But it does get tiring, being the class clown all the time. And hearing, inevitably, ‘Nice try, but I don’t look like that. I don’t sound like that.’ Yes, you do, exactly like that. Sorry to disappoint.”
“So, you’ll do it?” asked the king, perking up. “A long temporary engagement?”
“For the sake of the community. For political stability. Who am I kidding? For a taste of the good life, count me in!”
They rescued each other; I was merely their intersection.
The moral of the story: A winning hand is based on a great combination of cards.
* * *
Calendula’s Blossoms
Late one afternoon, I beelined it to the behind-the-scenes section of the arboretum. I walked through the sweltering park — no running today — pausing under a large, familiar oak. A few excited human children dragged their parents toward a busy ice cream truck. If only my plant friends were so easily rejuvenated.
Word on the street had it that Calendula was peaking. The wonderful staff at the arboretum continued to be supportive and discreet. They could easily have used Calendula in some garish “8th Wonder of the World” campaign to drum up business, but the stress of being front and center probably would have been fatal to my favorite flora. Instead, they had her tucked behind a tall fence with other fragile exotics.
She was beautiful! All grown up. Picture a woman wearing a head full of brightly colored curlers — in public. Most of the blossoms had opened, but stayed small. Impact of being a hybrid? Top-heavy like a peony with the concentration on her noggin and a new scent that was something between a rose and an expensive aftershave.
A small sprinkler twitched at her feet, but it felt too far away and too little. I picked it up and stepped closer, aiming it directly on her.
She noticed. “Hey!”
“I guess spring has sprung,” I said.
“Does it look awful? Too many blossoms on too small a stem? They all opened at once. It will probably look better after we dead-head a few.”
“I wouldn’t change a thing. How do you feel?”
“Like a plant who daydreams about being a person. I want to feel human again.”
“Plenty of time for that,” I said. “This is only a couple of weeks a year, right?”
“That’s what they tell me. How’s business?”
“I bought a ficus,” I kidded, regretting it immediately. “Just kidding. Janice has pitched in, but she knows not to reorganize your system. Everything will be there when you get back, provided we have electricity. I even bought you a glow lamp. Still looking for a mirror. And I took down the blinds.”
“I hope you didn’t throw them out; I’m kinda maxed. After this, I just want to retreat to a dim room with the smell of coffee and pencil lead. Let my human side take the lead for a while.”
“Your wish is my command,” I joked.
She smiled at my allusion to my first exotic client in a long line of exotic clients. “That’s where it started. Thank goodness for hapless genies.”
“Thank goodness for all faery folk,” I said.
“Even a mixed-up kid like me?”
“Especially a mixed-up kid like you.” She wrinkled her nose playfully at me. I’d missed her more than I’d ever confess.
*
* *
The novel Joe Avery begins in issue 979.
Copyright © 2025 by Charles C. Cole
