The Boxfield Elm

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The Boxfield Elm Page 8

by Cinda Swans


  “Yeah, don’t you think that’s…”

  “Of course that’s part of the problem, but can we try to just start a little smaller here and focus on what we really care about? The tree is just a cool thing, regardless of all this hocus-pocus small town stuff.”

  “Right.” She said. She felt confused about what Mark really believed in, but they obviously had a mission, and they needed each other to accomplish it. If not all the changes could be stopped, he was right. At least the tree had to be saved. Even if a tree couldn’t save Aeyr, or magic, or make sense of the past. It was the least they could do. She imagined herself dressed like those hippy activist types who went to her college. They usually had dreadlocks and wore flowing cotton clothing and they smoked a lot of pot. They were stereotypes of themselves, and they always kind of depressed her.

  But Mark was right, not everyone in this town felt good about seeing the woods go. They could connect with some other people, they could at least save a little bit of the land, couldn’t they?

  The fire had died down, and there was no more wood. “Those boys never came back,” Bri said.

  “I didn’t think they would. Those guys are real important to me, they really are, but it’s hard to get them to see things sometimes. They’re not all bad, you know,” he said, gazing over at her.

  “I know,” she said. “They’re alright. I’m embarrassed that they probably think I’m insane now. Or creepy.”

  “I’m sorry I embarrassed you.”

  Thinking of it made her feel angry again. What did Mark really understand? How much could he ever really know about what it was like to be anyone besides him, with his confidence and manliness?

  He leaned closer to her, suddenly. “Bri,” he said. He was looking deeply into her eyes, she could tell even in the dark. His face grew soft. “Bri, you’re so – you’re just like I remember you.”

  “I’ve changed a lot, apparently,” she said.

  “Shh,” he said. His shoulder was touching hers. She turned her face away from his.

  “Mark, I –“

  “Bri,” he said.

  “I think we should go. Will you take me home?”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  He stood and picked up the box of beer. Only half the bottles were empty. She walked ahead of him, picking her way over the rocks again. She didn’t say anything at all, just listening to the tide. If Mark wanted this mission to be about kissing her, then that was a different cup of tea. She wasn’t interested, she decided. She put her feet down on each rock confidently, knowing she’d have to be careful. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. But she only wanted his friendship. Even though he did have nice arms. She remembered the touch of his shoulder against hers, and then tried to put it out of her mind.

  After so much talking, the drive in his truck back to her father’s house was quiet. Mark awkwardly tried to put on the radio, but it was only commercials, and he quickly turned it off. The town was dead quiet.

  After a while, he said, “Well, you still want to go to the tree tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “You mind going early? I have a last minute job turned up for tomorrow.”

  “God, how early?” she asked.

  “Say, 6:30?”

  “Well, okay. Not my favorite time to wake up, but it’s worth it.”

  “Ok,” he said. “I’ll be out front your house at 6:25. You want a wake-up call?”

  “Yeah. I mean also I never got your number the other night, so.”

  “Yeah we’ll have to be in more touch then, won’t we. Well, ok. Here, you call me, then I’ll save your digits in that there contraption.” He gave her his number, and as she saved it into her phone, they pulled up in front of her father’s house.

  “See you in the morning?” he said.

  “Yeah.”

  “It’ll be in, like four hours,” he said.

  She knew he was hinting at something, but she ignored it. “Okay. Goodnight Mark.” She hesitated. “It’s – it’s been good. To … to figure all of this out.”

  “Don’t be scared,” he said.

  She shut the door behind her, and climbed the porch steps to her father’s house. He had forgotten to turn on a porch light for her, which wasn’t surprising.

  Don’t be scared. Of course she felt scared!

  Suddenly feeling very alone, Bri unlocked the door and went inside. The house smelled musty, and like the windows hadn’t even been opened yet since the weather had gotten warmer. Bri climbed the stairs to her old bedroom, and resolved to go to sleep as quickly as possible.

  Chapter 10

  The next day came very quickly. Bri opened her eyes wide and looked at her phone – it was exactly 6:08. Her heart pounded a little bit as she ran back through everything that had happened, trying to make sense of it all as quickly as possible, trying to remember why she felt like she was supposed to be awake so early.

  Her old bedroom was pale green colored, and as the light shone in through the windows, it almost seemed that she was in the forest already.

  Bri heard her father downstairs, grinding coffee. He’d always been an early riser. She wanted not to see him, really. But she got up anyway.

  She texted Mark, “Awake already. See you soon.”

  She put the few things she’d brought with her back in her bag so that she wouldn’t have to come back up. She glanced around her bedroom. It was, essentially, the same as it had been when she was a child. Somehow, this comforted her. Her father’s most redeeming quality might be his reluctance to change anything, she thought. Before leaving, she looked into her bookshelf and grabbed the book of Irish poems that Mr. Parker had given to her and shoved it into her bag. It seemed like a good thing to have on hand. She paused, and reached up to the shelf again, and took a slim, tattered book down and slid it into her bag, next to the poems.

  “Dad,” she said as she stepped into the kitchen. “I’m going out already.”

  “Oh,” he said.

  “Mark and I are going for a walk up in the woods, alright? Then I’ll probably just go back into the city.”

  “Short visit,” he said.

  “Yeah.”

  “No coffee, then?” he asked. He looked at her, a little sadly. Like, she realized, he had been looking forward to the company.

  “No, no coffee.” He shrugged. She looked at the time. It was 6:15. “Well, Mark’s supposed to be here in 10 minutes. I guess I’ll have a little.”

  He nodded and poured some for her.

  “You hear about the woods, then. Gonna cut em down. For some developments to go in. It’s not very good, Bri,” he said.

  “Oh, you know about it too?”

  “Well, it is in my back yard.”

  She sipped on her coffee.

  “Tried to stop it, Bri. We went to the city council meetings and all. No luck.”

  “Luck?”

  “Well, there’s a lot of push to bring more money in. More people. The town’s always worried it’s going broke.”

  “The town and everyone else. So we wreck the best things we have? I just don’t get it.”

  “Well, good luck to you, Bri. I think you and Mark can get the city to leave the elm tree.”

  “How do you know that’s what we’re talking about?”

  “I’m not dumb, Bri. I might not be a big part of your life these days, but I know a thing or two. You know,” he added, “this whole story could have been much weirder.”

  “What?”

  “You and the Miller house kid, Harris was their name – you might have been brother and sister, kind of. Step or half sister, brother, that’s what they call it.”

  “What!”

  “His mother and I … well, I loved her. I loved her, but she never wanted anything to do with me. So I guess might have are the wrong words. I wanted to marry her, I really did.”

  “You were still with mom!”

  “She always had her own life.”

  “Ah, Dad. Too much infor
mation.”

  “Well, you seemed curious about him. Them. Something. That family. They were curious, mystical people. They would thank you for being worried about the tree.”

  “Dad…”

  “We don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to.”

  Bri’s phone beeped. It must have been Mark, waiting out front.

  “Dad, who was Aeron ‘s father?”

  He looked down into his coffee, sadly. “She’d never tell,” he said. “But whoever it was, he sure broke her heart, I’ll tell you that.”

  Chapter 11

  They went to go look for the tree.

  Mark had a determined look on his tired face, like he'd sat up all night thinking. Something about him seemed different than it had at the bar, or, even, yesterday. He had less swarthiness to his walk. He seemed simpler, somehow, calmer and more focused.

  The air was moist, and the mosquitos were out. "Oh geeze," said Mark, slapping one off his arm. "Hold on, I gotta go back and get some bug spray or we'll die out there."

  Bri rolled her eyes - she never liked bug spray, but Mark was right. She heard three mosquitos buzzing around her hair and slapped another off her upper arm. He had a bottle of it in his truck. He sprayed himself all over, squinting his eyes shut, and even including his shoes and socks. Then he beckoned to her. "Lemmee getcha," he said. She went over to him and he sprayed her all over. The smell of it disgusted her, but the bugs stopped feasting on her skin.

  She pulled her hair back, and took a deep breath. "Well," she said. "You ready?"

  "Yep," he said.

  "You've been back here recently, haven't you?"

  "Not too long ago. If you want me to, I can lead you on the old path - you can't see too much of the new development work from there. Then after we look at the tree, you can decide if you want to take the same way back. Or if you want to see what they're doing."

  "I remember the old path," she said.

  He nodded, silent. She led him around the side of her father's house, to the creek bed. It was flowing nicely - still full from the springtime melts. It had been a snowy winter.

  The old footbridge they had made a long time ago was, of course, long gone. Bri looked at Mark, waiting for him to have an idea. "Hah," he said. "Want to have a little fun?"

  He got a look in his eye that cheered Bri up completely. She saw his old dare-devil self.

  "Think you can do this?" he asked, teasing her as he hoisted himself up onto the branch of a beech tree, using his arms first, and then swinging his leg up over the branch so that he was straddling it. Then he began to shimmy down the branch, looking very silly, she thought, but impressive nonetheless. The branch stretched out over the creek, but then it became too thin, and he had to lift himself up higher, onto the next branch.

  As he slid down that one, it began to bend toward the ground. But both Mark and Bri knew that beech-wood could be flexible and strong - even, she wondered, now that their bodies were the bodies of grow-ups?

  Clumsily, Mark shifted around until he was hanging from the branch, making the whole tree seem to jump and shiver with his weight. Then he dropped to the ground, on the other side of the creek. "Now let's see what you got," said Mark.

  Bri looked around. How could she get over? She picked her way up and down the length of the creek in her father's yard, looking for a promising spot. She eyed the trees. She wanted to find a way different than Mark's - less showy, more efficient.

  In the overgrowth next to the neighbor's house - Mrs. Plummer's house, Bri remembered - she found a wide, heavy branch. It was awkward to carry, but it was very strong, and definitely long enough to reach over the creek. She lifted it from the thinner, lighter end, and walked the length of it, raising it higher and higher until it rested on its thick base, then she began to guide it back down. It lined up perfectly, so that it crossed the creek bed.

  Now, the impressive part would be if she could still balance as well as she'd been able to as a child. She was out of practice. She took her shoes off quickly - they were cheap tennis shoes, and it annoyed her to wear them, anyway. Being barefoot here felt better. She left them in a pile with her socks.

  She looked up and saw that Mark had been watching her the whole time. That's what was different about him, she realized. Or, one of the things. When they were kids, he'd watch her, but he'd also always be running off on the lookout for their next step. Now all his concentration seemed focused on her.

  Bri imagined, suddenly, that she really was going on a big journey. She felt herself start to play pretend - to think like a child. Why not? Wasn't that kind of the point of this whole exercise?

  "Bri, listen, if you don't hurry the hell up, I'm gonna have to go build someone's stupid hardwood floor before we even get up the damn hill."

  "Okay okay," she said, looking down at her feet. She took a deep breath, and imagined it was a test. She had to balance upright on the round branch the whole way, and if she made it, then...then what? Then their whole mission would be a success? Maybe.

  She stepped out onto the branch, and concentrated carefully on putting one foot in front of the other - she stepped with her feet out sideways, so that the bridged curve of their underside met the same shape on the rough bark of the tree. She spread her arms out wide, and gazed at the spot where she'd put her next step each time. She breathed slowly - almost not at all.

  A kind of exhilaration took her over, and the task became very easy.

  Suddenly, she was on the other side, and Mark was laughing. "Well that was some performance, lady," he said, teasing. She shrugged.

  Then they began to walk up the hill. The leaves were cold and wet under Bri's feet, and they had a soft, loamy-ness which felt nice, though they were scattered amidst rocks and fallen branches and tricky roots which slid out down the hill. She had to pick her way a little bit carefully, but like crossing her make-shift bridge, the task was pleasurable.

  They walked up the hill and saw that at the top, the air became mistier, shot through with golden sunlight. Bri sighed. All of it felt so real.

  At the crest of the hill, she could hear echoes of machinery. It must be the construction - they'd start early, she supposed. It made her cringe.

  They stepped down the hill, sliding at the muddy parts, into a wide, damp valley. Nothing was quite as big as she remembered. The leaves sighed in a faint breeze.

  They walked in silence for a long time.

  "Bri," said Mark. "Are you ready? It's just like you remember it."

  They climbed a last hill, skirting a pile of boulders as big as houses, covered in deep green moss.

  Then there it was, the elm of Boxfield. It was mammoth. Its leaves stretched high above, and it sat surrounded by a circle of skinny beech trees. It was big enough for three people to stretch their arms around before their hands could touch. It looked like ... it looked like something from another world.

  "Now," said Mark. "Are you ready for the real thing?"

  Bri nodded.

  "You should probably go up first, huh?"

  "Ok," she said, approaching the tree slowly, feeling in awe of it.

  There was one low branch, and the rest were too high to reach. Mark linked his hands together to give her a "10-up." She stepped into his support, grabbed the branch with her arms, and hugged it tightly as she swung one leg over.

  "Did it!" she said, happy. Mark nodded.

  "Ok, now go look," he said.

  Bri situated herself carefully, grabbing the branch above her head and standing with the low one under her feet. She guided herself towards the trunk of the tree, and then she used its rough bark as a foothold to pull herself even higher into the branches.

  From the second branch, Bri could see down inside the trunk of the tree. That's where -

  She became a little dizzy. That's where the opening was. She hadn’t been inside the elm tree in probably ten years. Now she would visit it again.

  By bracing her weight against a steeply vertical branch that jutted u
p from the trunk, Bri could balance and look down inside the tree's hollow trunk.

  "Bri, I don't know if you should go -" Mark was saying. But it was too late, she was already dropping herself down inside the tree.

  With a whoosh of air, she landed with her feet on black ground.

  The silence inside the tree was the strangest, densest silence she had ever heard. It made her heart pound. She felt out of any particular time or place - as if she were in the center of the universe.

  All around her were the faint clickings of insects, borrowing into the tree’s innards.

  She thought she could hear Mark outside, but if that, only barely.

  She wanted to sit down on the floor of the tree, and stay there forever. It was the richest darkness, the clearest, fullest emptiness.

  “Bri!” she heard Mark’s voice, sharper. “Bri!” he sounded scared.

  She tried to call back to him, but realized that the tree would muffle her voice completely, especially if he were still on the ground. Well, she thought, time to climb back to shore then. She could come back, on her own, she thought, without Mark there to shout her name and scold her.

  But it was much harder to get back out. There were vague footholds, and she imagined she'd just have to stick her feet in and hope that nothing to crawl-y or slimy tried to get between her toes. She regretted leaving her shoes by the creek. She lifted her foot and made her first grab to hoist herself up, trying to hold on to the rotted roughness with her hands. But the tree’s insides fell away when she touched them. She tried again, and where there had been a foothold, there was only a smooth, wet surface.

  She was stuck.

  “Bri?” She heard a scrambling from the other side of the tree trunk – Mark, struggling to get up. His face appeared in the opening at the top of her cavern. “Bri.” He said “I told you not to jump down there so fast! How in the hell do you think you’re going to get out?”

  Strangely, Bri felt more upset by Mark’s anger than she felt about her own predicament.

  But then she tried to climb up again, and realized that she really was stuck.

  What if Mark left her here? She would be mummified, and then they’d find her if they tried to chop it down. Well, that would be one way to get them to stop in their tracks, though by the time they found her clackety skeleton, it would be too late.

 

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