Counting by 7s(56)

But she understands something, because she says:

“So we need an adult, a credit card, and a car?”



Dell wants no part of this.

Mai has done a lot of talking, but it’s the resident from unit #11 who makes the difference.

A guy named Otto Sayas—I would give anything to have a name that was a palindrome—knocks on the door.

He wants to know what’s happening with the “big dirt patch in the courtyard.”

Otto Sayas doesn’t look very happy, because his unit opens right up onto the future garden site.

I’m guessing from his attitude that he didn’t have a problem with the patch of red lava rock and weeds.

Dell has to talk to the guy because he’s the building rep. I hear him explain: “It’s all going to be planted. You’ll see. We are right in the middle of the project.”

I catch sight of Otto Sayas and he’s still scowling. He barks: “Nothing in the world will grow there.”

Then the magical part happens, because Dell sort of puffs up and says: “You just wait and see.”





Chapter 49





A Rototiller is like a jackhammer, but for dirt. And we get one.

Quang-ha doesn’t come to Sam’s U-Rent on Saturday because he is going bowling.

I had no idea he was a bowler.

But maybe that’s how it is with bowling. You do it and then leave it behind.

I think Dell would have liked to go bowling instead of to Sam’s U-Rent.

But he’s agreed to this.

The machine we rent requires real upper body strength to operate, especially when it is attacking hard ground.

So only Dell can use it.

Dell’s pretty doughy around the middle, and his large stomach vibrates as if it’s been put in a can and shaken at the paint store in one of those mixing machines.

But the good news is that the solid ground really gets pulverized.

The bad news is that Dell is probably going to be too sore to walk for a week.



I investigate the newly tilled soil downstairs in the future garden.

At dinner I share the good news:

“I tested the soil. And it is neutral. The pH is a perfect 7.”

Mai and Pattie and Dell look up from their food. Quang-ha keeps shoveling with his fork.

Plants (like people) thrive when there is balance.

So when the soil is too acidic, which can be thought of as sour, you should lower the pH factor.

You can do this by adding lime.

When the soil is too alkaline, which can be thought of as being too sweet, you need to add sulfur.

I explain this, but I can tell that it’s not a spellbinding discussion for the people I live with.

Dell says:

“Did you taste the soil to find out?”

I can’t tell whether Dell means this as a joke or not, but it causes Quang-ha to laugh.

I realize that whenever he laughs it’s some kind of relief.

It’s like a dam bursting.

Pattie says:

“That’s great, Willow.”

Quang-ha then mutters:

“What’s really being measured are ions of hydrogen.”

He seems as surprised as I am at his own statement. He puts more spicy sauce on his pork, looking guilty, as if learning something in science class is a crime.

Table silence.

Mai then says:

“And 7 is your favorite number, Willow.”

I don’t explain that I don’t count by 7s anymore, but I do still appreciate the beauty of the number.

I’m thinking that everyone will get more involved tomorrow when we do the planting.

And I find I’m really looking forward to that.



There was an X factor.

An unseen, or unknown, influence.

We went to sleep with a large rectangle of newly tilled, well-balanced soil in the courtyard where we live.

It was a thing of beauty.

At least to me.

But a Santa Ana wind blew in, in the middle of the night. This happens here.

Certain conditions propel a stream of dry air from the mountains to the shoreline.

We wake to a dustbowl.

I have never seen such filth.

The walls and the windows of the first-floor units are covered in a layer of newly ground dirt.

I go downstairs and I stare.

It’s as if a grime tornado hit the place.

After I show Dell, he limps to the garage and yanks down the building rep parking sign. He doesn’t want anyone to know where he lives.

Dell is so sore from his Rototiller experience that he can barely move.

Or maybe he’s just that upset about the dirt damage.

He wraps himself in a blanket, lies down on the floor of his apartment, and closes his eyes. He looks like a mummy.

I would like to take a picture, but I decide it’s not appropriate.



Mai has a plan.

She puts up a large sign downstairs. It says: CONSTRUCTION PROJECT UNDER WAY

APOLOGIES FOR INCONVENIENCE

I feel like we should tell Dell what we’re up to, but Mai says to leave him alone.

Mai then gets her mother to drive Dell’s car to Sam’s U-Rent, where we return the Rototiller and now rent a power sprayer.

Mai and Dell have different approaches to everything in life.