Tree: A Young Adult Fringe Reality Romance

by T. Nixon

  I got out of the vehicle and followed Brad and Cherry to the outside ordering window. The line wasn't too long, but the talkative man behind the window could make orders move a little slower. Cherry smiled at me; Brad surveyed the nearby locals.

  “Isn't this a treat?” Cherry asked me. The bright look in her eye made me wonder how long she had been planning this visit. As a kid I had constantly begged to go to Taste E Freeze for a chocolate dipped cone. My aunt, a strict healthy eater, made only one exception and that was a thick chocolaty shake from the TEF.

  “It's great, thanks,” I replied. I tried to meet her expectant look with a pleasant one of my own, and had I not run into AJ on the street a while before I probably could have, but now my mood was sullied, and even the prospect of my favorite crunchy chicken strips with fries- a treat I hadn't had since before my parents went missing- couldn't lift me back up. I felt bad when her eyes clouded over so I stood up straighter and flashed her a smile.

  “C'mere,” she said as she gently drew me in for a hug. In her arms I felt myself relax a tiny little bit. Her inner calm and warmth were contagious when close to her, a fact I told myself to remember. “Oh look, there's AJ's truck,” she said. I immediately tensed, withdrew myself from her and took a step back. I turned in the direction she was looking, and sure enough, not two cars away from ours was his truck.

  I scanned the parking lot and the area in front of the building where we were standing but didn't see him. As I was thinking the words Cherry said them “he must be inside. I wonder if he's with Lyss.”

  “He is,” I replied in a flat tone. “They passed me earlier when I was walking.” I should've known they were headed to Tasty’s. I sighed and shook my head a little out of annoyance. Cherry looked at me but said nothing. I met her eyes for a second, realized she was watching my reaction, smiled and then began studying the menu.

  After nearly 15 minutes it was our turn. I stepped up to the window to make my selection and then moved aside for Brad and Cherry. I didn't ask but silently I prayed they would make the order To Go and just when the question was asked, we heard-

  “You've a lot of nerve showing your face around here.”

  Brad, Cherry and I all turned around with wide eyes and gawked at an older man. He was short and heavily wrinkled with a thick but educated British accent. His eyes were narrow, his hard gaze directed at Cherry.

  “Why have you been ignoring me? You afraid the police will find the evidence?” His voice escalated with the last words. Cherry opened her mouth to reply but Brad held up his hand to stop her.

  “Don't buy into it,” he said quietly to her and then to the old man “Chester, we've told you and the police have told you that you have to get a warrant to search private property. If the authorities of San Lorenzo County don't see cause to search our farm, then you shouldn't either.”

  “What!?” his face visibly turned red. “Are you serious? This one here murdered my brother and,” he nodded towards me, “probably this one here's parents for her selfish gain and you think I have no cause?”

  My mouth fell open in shock. I looked at Cherry with wide eyes. Her eyes were fixed on the old man, her face was a mask that betrayed nothing. I felt my heart starting to pound and the sound of it fill my ears.

  “You better walk away right now old man,” Brad said with a tight voice. I looked over at him to see his fists clenched and nostrils flaring. I could feel the eyes of the patrons on us intently. There were so many people around looking. People on the inside had gotten up from their seats to witness the scene. Heat spread across my face and tears filled my eyes. I would not gratify the voyeurs by crying, but I my chin trembled.

  “Don't you think it's odd how people go missing around this one?” He spoke to Brad but nodded at Cherry. “You'll be lucky if you're not next!” Spittle shot from his mouth as he spat the words. I hadn't noticed his cane until he was shaking it, his hard face determined and sure. “And you,” he said pointing his cane at me, “you don't think it's odd how your parents went missing? It's almost like they went away with someone they knew right? All the telltale signs.”

  I stood flabbergasted, unable to move or speak, all the while endless pairs of eyes burned into me, making this horrible moment worse. I felt my breath catch in my lungs almost as if I was having an asthma attack. I looked at Cherry, then at Brad and then, like a trapped animal my eyes scanned for a way to escape.

  He had come outside, and Alyssa was standing just behind him, her hand on his shoulder. My eyes inadvertently locked on his, stopping on something familiar. His eyes were big, round orbs or soft brown filled with a complicated combination of anger, sadness, and concern.

  “I know my brother's body is in that forest somewhere-” the old man started.

  “Enough of that!” Brad yelled, his face purple with anger.

  The whole scene was only seconds long. Brad lunged toward Chester but Cherry grabbed his arm to stop him. AJ jumped in the middle, putting his arms out to keep the men separate. Cherry urged Brad toward the car. The owner of TEF came around from behind his safe haven and led Chester away. Shaking his hand at the crowd he said “I don't want no trouble here. You all go back inside. Mr. Harris, you can't be starting trouble on my premises.”

  I stood frozen for a few moments, living the scene from the out of my body. Then, like a falling dream I snapped back into my body and ran to the car, throwing myself onto the backseat. Seconds later Brad and Cherry also entered, Brad angry and cussing about Chester Harris. As Brad started the engine Cherry turned around to look at me, her enigmatic expression said more than words. I turned my face out the window and concentrated on the concrete.

  As we pulled out, I saw AJ, still standing in the same place watching us. He wore a defeated look. Alyssa was speaking to him with obvious annoyed impatience. Brad drove a little recklessly as he screeched out of the parking lot onto the main road and towards the farm.

  The feelings were too much to feel. My stomach was hollow; my chest was full and heavy. My heart was still pounding, flooding adrenaline through my veins. I felt my body rock with motion of the vehicle, I knew my eyes were looking out the window, but I saw nothing and felt nothing. I could hear Brad and Cherry talk quietly up front but only as someone overhears a whispered conversation in a library- without making out anything distinguishable. It was almost as if I was sitting beside myself instead of inside myself.

  When we arrived at the farm all I could think about was escape. The thought of being cooped up in the house brought on near panic. I must have looked odd to Brad and Cherry, because when I said I wanted to go for a walk they didn't try to talk me out of it. Cherry gave me a worried look and was probably going to give me a list of objections, but Brad gently put his hand on her arm which prevented her from saying anything. I knew there were groceries to be unloaded, lunch to be made since we had never gotten any food. None the less I wanted nothing more than to be... away.

  I'm sure I looked robotic because I felt that way. She agreed to let me go, asking me firmly to be back before dark. I nodded and walked away quickly. I pulled my earbuds out of my pocket and shoved them in my ear. I hit shuffle in my music app and walked. I didn't think about where I was going. I didn't think about anything. My eyes saw only enough to keep me from falling but didn't take in anything more. I couldn't handle any more information. My brain and my body were on autopilot.

  I walked for quite a while, numb, with no destination in mind. I wandered with no aim, instead guided by gentle breezes and the music. I was led to the clearing. When I got to the edge I paused. At the sight of the old tree the tears finally released, and all the emotions of the past several weeks flooded out of me. As fast as I could I ran across the meadow. I tried to outrun the tears, but it was pointless. When I reached the tree, I threw myself at its giant extending base, scratching my face as I collided.

  My body racked with silent sobs. I cried so hard I couldn't breathe. My face was wet from tears and probably blood. I cried for everything- m
y missing parents, leaving my home, the embarrassing scene at Taste E Freeze. For AJ, his rejection and his pity. I grieved for my old life, for my parents- wherever they were. No loss is easy, let alone one that also involved losing everything I used to know about my life. When the hard crying passed I sobbed openly, loudly, into the tree, grabbing a root and holding on for dear life.

  When I started to calm down a bit I turned around and pressed my back into the tree and braced myself. I wiped my puffy face with the back of my hand. It was bloody and dirty. My breathing was hard and quick, my legs ached from running so hard. My head throbbed and my nose was stuffed. I was exhausted.

  It took me several minutes to get my breathing back to something near normal. All the while I gripped the tree as if my life depended on it. I relaxed my legs and allowed myself to sink down to a sitting position, nestled between two root arms. Oddly, I felt comforted.

  I closed my eyes and concentrated on the feeling of the bark beneath my hands. I heard a man clear his throat.

  I whipped my head around and lunged forward with animal like speed ready to pounce on whoever had followed me. I was already out of my skin, wild like an animal from the depths of the Amazon.

  He cleared his throat again as he came around the tree, his hand up to his mouth as though he was going to cough into the side of his fist. He wore a sheepish, slightly embarrassed look on his handsome, refined face. His shoulders were a little slumped as though he was unsure if should approach me. He put up hand a in a non-threatening way and gave a little grin. I swallowed hard as I stared at him, trying to make sense of what was happening. Who was he and what was he doing way out in the middle of nowhere? On my aunt's property no less.

  “Hallo,” he said with a defined British accent. “I'm very sorry to be a bother, I couldn't help but notice you were upset and though I might offer some assistance.”

  He had stopped several feet away from me, obviously to give me space and increasing the impression he was of no threat.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded.

  “Oh yes, that might seem a little odd, I uh,” he backed up and to the side and placed a hand and his eyes on the tree, “you see I study trees and I come to visit this one every now and again.” He smiled again and flicked his eyes about and then back to mine in a slightly self-conscious way.

  “This is private property,” I bristled. I wasn't angry with him, but angry at the fact he had witnessed my private breakdown. Not even Cherry had seen me cry like that, would nothing be sacred for me again?

  “Yes, I know,” he looked down and then back up at me. “I did get permission quite a long time ago.”

  I stared at him.

  “By Mr. Harris.”

  “Well, he isn't around anymore. He's dead,” I said bluntly.

  He looked down, “I know. He was my... uncle.” His voice carried a weight of obvious sadness. I felt guilty for spitting the words at him, but then I felt myself relax a little at his own vulnerability. And his loss.

  I stammered for something to say to fill the pregnant silence I had created. “Well, I guess I never thought other people come here. Stupid of me.” I looked down at my dirty shoes, anger being replaced with embarrassment.

  “It is a little out of the way,” he smiled. I gave him a fleeting glance and a very controlled smile in return. I wanted to keep my puffy, tear stained face out of his view as much as possible. Everything about me was a mess- my clothes were covered in dirt and pine needles; I could feel that dirt had mixed with tears and blood on my face. Upon thinking of it I automatically raised my hand and wiped at the scrape on my cheek. My already bloody hand came back bloodier and dirtier.

  “Oh,” he said gently, and I looked up to see him eyeing me with concern. “That doesn't look too good, may I?” He leaned forward, hand extended, a quizzical expression on his face. All I could do was stammer but I must have nodded a little because he came forward and gripped my hand.

  “Sit here,” he said as he led me to a root arm that was high enough to sit on. He examined my face and I tried to keep my eyes easy but found it hard to. I was careful, ready to run. After all, he was a total stranger, deep in the woods. He carefully inspected my cheek and then looked into my eyes, smiling once again. “I don't think it's as bad as it looks,” he said.

  He stepped back and began to untuck his ivory collared shirt. He wore unremarkable brown trousers with an ivory polo type shirt and simple brown shoes. He tore a section off the bottom of his shirt and then came towards me again. He wetted a section of the piece in his mouth and then placed his hand on my chin to steady my head.

  His hands were warm.

  “This will only hurt a little,” he said smiling, and then gently dabbed the scratch. Against my will I was captivated by his eyes. He only had them on mine while he spoke and then immediately diverted his attention to my cheek. They were a medium green, but they had sparkled. Like afternoon sunlight on a bright blue mountain lake. They were earnest. They seemed familiar.

  “There,” he said when he finished a few seconds later. He took a step back and smiled again. It seemed smiling came naturally to this stranger. “I think you will make a full recovery.”

  “Thanks,” I managed to force out. I let out a deep sigh, looked up at him and met his eyes. “Really.”

  “My pleasure,” he replied. I looked away quickly, his eyes were warm and inviting, his smile quick and easy with white teeth and an unintentional self-assuredness. He went about readjusting his shirt and I took the opportunity to study his face.

  He was very, very handsome. He looked British, if that was possible, with a boyish jaw. He could have been my age but probably older, it was hard to tell, his face was unlined and clean shaven. His lips were full and almost mirror images of one another, the bottom slightly bowed like the top. His skin tone hinted at some dark ancestor, an Italian or Spaniard, with a tan cast. His medium chocolate brown hair was short on the sides and longer on the top, loosely styled as though he simply ran his hands through it and let it lay how it would.

  His eyes had a slightly almond shape and full brows to accent the color and draw attention to them. They seemed sincere and trustworthy, despite unusual circumstances that would ordinarily invite distrust.

  “I didn't mean to sneak up on you,” he said without looking at me. He finished tucking in the last part of his shirt and I looked out over the clearing. I said nothing, what could I say? “I do hope everything is ok.”

  I didn't want to say a word. It was none of his business although his concern seemed real. And what would he care about my life anyway? He didn't move or speak. He simply waited. I felt pressure to say something, to break the awkward moment.

  “My parents are missing.” I said it without intending to. I didn't look at him when I spoke, instead I kept my eyes trained on the trees across the meadow. In a way, it felt good to say the words.

  “That must be difficult,” he said quietly after a moment’s pause.

  “No harder than what happened to your uncle.” A realization came over me that I had never heard about James Harris having a nephew, not that I would have expected to, but I would think Cherry would have welcomed this beautiful and polite relative of James into her home. Unless... “My aunt had no part in his disappearance,” I said firmly. I looked him directly in the eye to let him know I meant it.

  He blinked a few times, probably shocked by the sudden change in my demeanor. “I, uh, I don't think she did.”

  “You've come and awful long way and I haven't seen you at the farm.”

  “A long way?” he asked threw me a questioning look as if it wasn't obvious, he was from another country. His eyes popped open wide and he nodded “oh yes, from England, right.”

  “If you were a friend of my aunt's I would assume you would stop by the farm, but instead I find you sneaking around on the property. Makes it easy to assume you are in cahoots with Chester Harris.” At the mention of the old man's name, I felt my chin quiver and wetness flood my eyes.
Evil old man. He was English too, so this young man must also be his nephew. Chester Harris was way too old to be his father.

  “I'm so sorry,” he said sincerely. “I wasn't sneaking around, like I mentioned, I did have permission to be here once. And Chester Harris, yes, he's... distraught over my, I mean, his brothers... situation. But he has his own opinions. I never knew your aunt so I didn't feel it would be appropriate to show up at her doorstep. Has Chester... my uncle, been giving you a hard time?” he asked gently.

  “Only if you consider public embarrassment a 'hard time'.” I could feel anger burning up and placing a cover over the sad feeling.

  “Oh my,” he said and ran a hand through his hair.

  “Yeah. Accusing my aunt of,” it was hard to say the word, “murdering her own family!” I was breathing hard with the anger now. I felt the tears pooling again.

  “Yes, I would call that giving you a hard time,” his eyes were cloudy and worried looking. We heard a rustle in some nearby bushes and both our eyes darted in the same direction. He glanced at me and then went around to the back of the tree, near the cavity, and then back to where I was sitting.

  “I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am for the way my uncle has treated you. I don't want to make excuses for him, but he is in a lot of pain. He and... James were very close. We all were...” his voice trailed off and his blue eyes clouded again.

  “That is an excuse,” I replied flatly. I refused to be softened by his concern; he was not going to get me to forgive the old man. No matter what.

  “Maybe it is, but I don't want it to be. There is no excuse for public humiliation when we don't know if people are innocent or guilty.”

  I shot him a hard look. “I know my aunt is innocent.”