The Tree

It was the perfect tree.

Raindrops saturated the dark mountain soil as a tall young man followed a tired path through an endless collection of trees. His feet followed the path confidently as if they’d been there hundreds of times before, but in actuality it was the first. He’d overheard dozens of people talking about it on campus but he’d never taken the time to see for himself, until now. He listened to the rain as it rolled off the leaves and tree branches. The rain could hardly be called more than a drizzle and instead of finding it vexing he relished in it. It was a nice break from the recent heat wave. His eyes spotted a small, mutilated tree trunk and used the opportunity to fix the sock that had been slipping down his left foot and re-lace his boots.

Anyone who didn’t know him would probably say he personified manliness as he lifted his foot up to rest on the trunk and untie his construction boots. The way he stood, and was dressed made him look like the cover of a lumberjack magazine; all he needed was an axe. Though he looked the part, the last thing he wanted to do was chop down any trees. His flannel shirt had gotten slightly damp from the precipitation and clung to his lean muscles, his dark jeans were cuffed above the boots to avoid any mud stains. A crimson hunting cap kept his wildly curly black hair under control and the boots themselves screamed “macho.”

Anyone who knew him, at least superficially because those who really knew him were few and far between, would say he looked ridiculous. His shirt clung to his muscles because it was too small, the jeans were cuffed because they were too long and if he allowed them to be their full length, he’d trip over them. He was a klutz. The boots made his feet look enormous. The hunting cap did a poor job of keeping his hair concealed and who wore that kind of hat nowadays, anyway? Who did he think he was, Holden Caulfield? He hated being compared to the protagonist, not because he hated the book, in fact he rather liked it but because for the last six months it was all anyone said to him. Before reading the book his classmates didn’t feel the need to say anything to him at all. After, his classmates didn’t feel the need to say anything to him unless it was an insult. Along with Holden, and f*g boy, one of their favorite nicknames was a word he didn’t know the meaning of, emo kid. Before coming to the private school he’d never heard that term before and even still he didn’t know what it was supposed to mean but he knew that if they were calling him one it must be derogatory.

He tugged on the hat brim and sighed. It was just a hat; he didn’t understand why people always had to find a meaning for inconsequential things when they couldn’t understand the significant things that were right under their noses. Humans were always looking for meaning in the commonplace while ignoring the extraordinary.  He stuck his tongue out to catch a few raindrops before moving on.

His eyes examined every tree waiting for the right one. None called to him the way he expected, so he kept walking further down the path. One tree caught his attention. It wasn’t the right one but it interested him so he stepped off the path and approached it. The bark of the tree he noticed was littered with carvings in the wood. He put his backpack down and started carefully running his fingers over the poorly etched lettering. Mark & Sally ’82. Jen loves Will FOREVER. Kelly + Cheyenne BFF. There had to be hundreds of them from the very bottom of the tree to as far up as his eyes could see. People climbed all the way up there just to engrave a long-lasting declaration of love or friendship, maybe even both. He felt as green as the moss growing beneath his feet.

Curiously he walked to the other side of the tree. Judy & Dan 2001. KL + AS ’75. Alex loves Linda. He wondered which of the lovebirds had started it all. Not all of them were dated. Some looked very old as if the tree had grown with the words carved in it, and others were quite fresh. Who had started the trend? Who had been the first person at Worthington Prep to love someone so much they felt the need to deface nature so everyone who passed by would know it? He read some more. Rachel & Jack. Julie and Sarah Best Friends For Life 2009. Sam and Becky Always and Forever 1993. His eyes froze on the names Becky and Sam, and the date. His heart forgot to beat.

He could hear the yelling. Sam was an arrogant prick, who Becky never should have slept with, and Becky a stupid c**t, he only married for the sake of the kid. Hiding under his bed, he would cover his ears and listen to them hurl insults at each other. He didn’t understand what most of them meant but he knew they were bad because in 1st grade he’d called Ashley Berg a stupid c**t for stealing his crayon and the teacher took him outside to yell at him. The look on her face when he’d explained that was what Daddy called Mommy when he was mad would be imprinted in his memory forever. He knew for a fact that Becky and Sam would not be together forever and always, unless the new definition of forever was eight years. If it were up to him he wouldn’t even count seven of those years because what is the point of staying together forever and always when you aren’t in love?

Shaken, he found a log and sat down. That was when he saw it, the perfect tree. He didn’t know what kind of tree it was but it looked like a cancer patient, pale, eerily thin and balding. He wondered if the tree was dead, or dying. All the other trees were full of leaves; it was the middle of spring. Regardless, he loved the tree. He got up off the log and circled it, studying carefully. He saw a branch just the right height and pulled on it to make sure it wouldn’t snap. It quivered but seemed fine. Smiling he reached into his jeans, pulled out a small pocket knife and made two small etch marks in the bark, to make sure it would write. Pleased that all of his specifications were met; he ran over grabbed his backpack. Putting it down next to his tree he walked back over to the love tree and started to roll the log he’d been sitting on closer to his tree.

He pulled a rope from his backpack and set to work tying the knot. He’d never tied the proper knot on a real rope before, just dozens of shoelaces but a week ago some students were nice enough to provide the rope by leaving it outside his door with a little note attached.

After tying the knot he secured the rope to his tree branch and made sure that it was steady. He did each step meticulously. There was no room for error. He flipped open the pocketknife and though it pained him to ruin the beautiful pale bark he needed his message to be seen. Carefully he etched each letter into the wood. Y-o-u…w-i-n. He followed that with his initials and the date. He bent down into his backpack and pulled out the note from his classmates. He read it to himself for the thousandth time. For when you decide to do us all a favor and give up. He took his knife and stabbed the note so it was pinned to his tree right above his engraving.

He stepped onto the log, wondering if Becky and Sam would still think sending him to private school against his will had been a good idea, it’d been the only thing they agreed on in years. Slipping the rope over his hunting cap and around his neck he thought, they’re wrong. I’m not like him. Holden never would have done this. He prepared his right foot to kick the log out from under him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, counting. 5, 4, 3, 2-