The Tree

A neighborhood quarrell has life-changing consequences.

1

It began, as all things do, with a seed.

During the early 1930's good houses, as you'd expect, were hard to come by; for a family to spend their long-earned cash the home had to be in some way spiffy. Trinity Street, like most of the buildings constructed during this dark era, was below average at best, so the estate agents did everything in their power to enhance the properties and, in some cases, the surrounding area also.

They painted white bricks green, welded fresh gates, installed superior windows and, most importantly for the sake of this stort at least, they planted seeds.

When prospective buyers arrived for viewings, the sellers encouraged visions of hulking oaks, their golden leaves fluttering through the cool air, vast branches like arms of welcome reaching out to skies of cobalt blue. Sometimes they even cradled the grains in their hands, offering the grinning customers a chance to feel the softness of the seeds on their fingers. It was marketing in its most eccentric persona.

However, little did they know, one of these seeds would becone a tree that would cause much belittlement, chaos and life-changing revelations. Would, in fact, retract the unseeable seed of a human soul, just one, but who knows how many flowers are contained in a solitary grain of humanity.

2

The first thing both Solways noticed when they turned onto Trinity Street was the great big oak standing - towering! - outside their new home.

'Surely it wasnt that big before,' said Ben, poking the glasses back up his face to get a better look.

'Well,' said Sylvia rocking to and fro in the passenger seat of the range rover, 'it must've been. They dont relocate them, love.'

But Ben was unconvinced; he even slowed down to a near stop alongside the huge trunk. Sylvia frowned. 'Were just here, anyway.'

Ben was amazed to see that his wife was right. But it wasn't so close to the house, though, he thought, ogling the rearview mirror as he drove up the ramp of the new driveway. Then his suspicion turned to gratitude.

'It's beautiful,' he said.

Given what happened later, this statement would, to the Solways, seemed laughable in its vulgarity.

When they got inside they called the haulage company to inform them they were ready to receive their belongings, and then unpacked what little stuff they had brought with them, taking their time. For they were not as young as they once were.

While Sylvia was making cups of tea, Ben went to peer out the window. The beauty of the tree soon evaporated and the residual feeling was one of disappointment - then, anger.

The entire sittingroom was draped in a thick shade.

'Aww f**k no,' he whispered to himself. He called in Sylvia. When she saw the near-full darkness of what was supposed to be their primary area of entertainment she put a hand to her mouth.

'This was different at the viewing,' she said, moving towards the curtainless window so that they both now stood glaring out in disbelief.

'Did the price blind us?' she said, doubtfully.

'No,' said Ben with a raspy sigh, 'it's that f*****g tree that's blinding us.'

They remained staring at the mass of leaves and branches til two figures came slinking along the path in front of the little steepled gardenwall. The man waved. Ben nodded. The man and woman turned up the ramp and Ben went to the door, answering it before the first knock.

'Afternoon mate,' said the cheery man, 'I'm Jerry Gilroy,' he extended his hand just as the woman beside him reached out to Sylvia, saying, 'Hope.'

'We live next door,' said Jerry and offered up a bottle of wine. Ben's face eased a bit as he took it. He forced his voice to a more agreeable tone.

'Ah thanks mate, appreciate that.'

Four silent smiles.

Jerry went to speak, but Ben said, 'the tree...,' he frowned but tried to sound friendly, '...it's some beast.'

Hope laughed, hard. Jerry smirked.
'Ah yeah, she's a beauty isn't she?'

'Well,' said Ben, 'she is beautiful but she could do with a haircut.'

For a moment the couple on the doorstep hesitated, then Hope said, 'she scrubs up well in winter.'

Everyone laughed but Ben; he went to speak but this time it was Jerry who now interjected.

'Really nice to meet you,' he said, 'we'll see each other around, I'm sure.'

They turned and went waddling back down the ramp cautiously. Ben watched them go and then examined the bottle of wine.
It was the cheapest bottle humanly possible.
He knew because the receipt was left in the end of the bag.

3

All week ben's annoyance intensified and he found himself staring out the window for long periods of time. The Solways had to stick several adhesive lights around the room, but this did little to exude the gloom. Finally he had enough.

When Sylvia was gone shopping he went next door.

'Alright mate,' said Jerry, his plump jowls jostling.

'Look Jeremy,' said Ben. He knew his neighbor's name full well but had, for some reason, decided to mispeak on purpose. Jerry didn't correct him. Ben continued,

'I can barely see my coffee table in there. Something has to be done about that.'

He pointed a finger oakward.

'She,' said Jerry. 'And have you tried higher wattage bulbs.' His smile was polite.

Ben was gobsmacked. The gall of him. Anger began to course through his body like heat through a cheap bottle of wine.

'Look mate,' he said, trying to remain calm. Then, changing strategies, he chuckled. 'I'll get my hedgclippers out this afternoon.'

A strange smile spread across Jerry's face and he began to flush.

'Okay mate?' said Ben, more aggressively than he had intended, and went to leave. Jerry grabbed him by the arm with astonishing strength.

'I've looked after that tree my whole life,' he said, his tone neutral, his eyes dark and wild.

'My family,' he said, 'have lived in this house for a hundred and thirty years.'

His gaze was tiger-like, locked on Ben's.

'She's mine and I look after her.'

His fingers dug in. 'Do you understand Benny, pal?'

Ben was beyond words, almost beyond breath, lost in the suddend transformation of atmosphere.

And then, as if a switch had been clicked, Jerry's eyes returned to joviality. He released his grasp.

"Anyway,' he said, 'if there's anything you need you know where I am.'

He slowly closed the door, smiling all the while.

Ben stood on the doorstep for almost a full minute, staring at the door. Did that just happen, he thought. Over a f*****g tree?

The old f**k is mad as birds.

6

He decided not to tell Sylvia under the pretense that he didn't want to scare her. Really, he was ashamed of himself for not confronting Jerry's spontontanious hostility. Truly, the incident had scared him. It wasn't just the crazy, feral look on Jerry's face that had disturbed him; it was the source of the expression. How could someone get so worked up over a tree? It didn't make any sense.

Not yet, anyway.

The whole encounter had unsettled him so much that he neended a drink. It would be the first of many.

The tree had initiated him into a very serious situation.

7

Halfway through singing along to a Jellyroll Morton song, Ben's voice became strained and eventually tapered off to a weary gargle. On acknowledging his own dilapidated state he lost his temper.

'Right,' he said aloud. 'That's it.'

He rose, cross at himself.

When Sylvia heard what he was doing she gasped; it was all she could do to stop herself from falling down with exhaustion. It had been a hard week, between the drinking and Ben's growing obsession with that tree, she was getting very worried indeed.

Back when they were in their 30's, Ben had taken to the bottle quite and bit but nothing line this. He had never been an angry or miserable drunk. Niw all he did was glare and curse.

The tension in his mind was slowly reaching out, encompassing the house and eventually, on the 22nd of October, the entire street.

As Bob Dylan would say 'a hard rain' was falling; the vicious exhalation of hurricane Hermes sending gusts of up to a hundred and ten miles an hour throughout the country. It was amid these raging torrents that Ben Solway lost his senses.

The branches of the Tree (in his mind, Ben had begun to capitalise the term), which normally kept to themselves, started to arc inward, tapping incessantly against the darkened sittingroom window. Every time a wooden finger poked the pain, Ben gritted his teeth. Even the wind, which was innocent of the situation, nourished his fury; every sigh was a reason for rage. On noticing Ben's demented expression, Sylvia went to ask if he was alright but she never got the chance.

Ben finally snapped.

'Right,' he said, 'that's it.'

He leaped from the couch and headed for the hall, staggering in the doorway. He hit his hip on the handle. 'B*****d!'

Sylvia sat in shock, listening to the sound of rummaging. When she realized what he was doing she gasped at first...then broke from her seat.

'No, no, no, no, no,' she was saying to herself.

By the time she reached the hall, the front door was swinging open, letting in the blazing winds and rain.

'Thinks he's a big man!' yelled Ben, entering the dark garden, a chainsaw in his hand.

7


The Chainsaw was waving wildly in the air. Each fresh gust made Ben angrier, and he pulled on the cord with violent vigour. Sylvia was terrified but refused to keep a safe distance. The rumbling eventually erupted and she gasped and stepped back instinctively, falling to her back on the soaked grass. On seeing her injurious position, Ben, for a moment, became himself again, a concerned look forming. Then a leaf splattered against his face and he screamed.

He turned around and raised the chainsaw, but failed to consider the upward draft and the resonating chainblade sliced a groove across the top of his head. He cried out in pain yet the sensation served only to bring forth more fury. He began to hack at the branches indiscriminately. Out of the corner of his good eye he saw the lights come on in the Gilroy's house.

'Now look what you've done!' he roared.

The Chainsaw wavered yet again but he persevered as, one by one, all the other neighbours's light's popped on.

He remained that way - blood pouring from a deep gash - for quite awhile. Sylvia managed to get to her feet just as the first siren sounded out.

8

The next morning, Ben was let out of the cell and handed a restraining order not just concerning his next door neighbours; he was not to interfere with the actual tree itself.

At first this was a source of great turmoil, but after considering the scenario in which he found himself, Ben settled on a philosophical tone of resignation. Sure, what was there to do?

Wait for winter.

He had given up on wondering why the tree (lower case now) meant so much to Jerry and indeed to himself as well...and to just let bygones be bygones. Until the toy.

One morning he stepped onto his porch in search of the morning bread and milk whereby he discovered a tiny plastic chainsaw, from a child's toy construction set he assumed, lying there on the freezing concrete. A hostile frown formed with the dawning of comprehension.

'That sneaky f*****g c**t,' he whispered to himself, placing the yellow plastic chainsaw in his gownpocket.

He never told Sylvia.

Over the next few weeks the next door neighbours lolled it up on Trinity Street. Not just Jerry but sweet, little, harmless, fat Hope aswell: they waved and smirked in their relentless passings; made loud pirate jokes on account of Ben's eye patch; they revved their car at three and four in the morning; they even adorned the tree in myriads of christmas decorations as early as November 2nd, so that now the Solway house was dowsed in darkness by day and flickering lights at night.

It was driving Ben to drink more and more but now he was quietly intoxicated. Some - all the neighbors, for example - termed it 'darkly drunk.' There was an even a rumour going around the street that he had taken up smoking cannabis, a well-grounded legend. In fact, between the neighbors witnessing the mind games and the many rumours regarding the hardships, the Solways had accumulated a considerable sum of sympathy from the residents of the street. And, just five days before christmas eve, a petition was signed. The locals had banded together to get the tree removed altogether, much to the Solways' amazed elation.
And Jerry's dread.

9

Three Weeks Later.

They sat in silence, not stunned silence, for they had witnessed the excavation firsthand, to the news report. It seemed that the Gilroy bloodline was tainted by murders. Not only had Jerry's grandfather killed six women at the the turn of the century but his father had slaughtered his wife, Jerry's own mother. God only knew how many had disappeared and how many had been vanished. But one thing was beyond speculation; Jerry Gilroy's life had changed drastically. So much so that he took his own life and that of his wife, Hope, on the 31st of December. It would not be a new year for the Gilroys.

Out of all the bones they found beneath that old oak only twelve were identified. The police said that the thirteenth could've been anyone.

End


Kealan Coady October 2017.