The Tree

Lillianna Desmone

She fell gracefully. So, so gracefully. Just as her mother had named her. My best friend, my rival, my whole world.

She tumbled, with her crash echoing throughout my entire mind, body, and soul. Frantically, I called for help. Terrified, I couldn't do anything until help arrived. Shocked, I wasn’t able to grieve until the funeral. Guilty, I thought I would never climb again.

Grace was my everything. The woods were our escape. We scavenged the woods for ingredients, needed in whatever muddy stew or grassy soup we were making. We jumped every fence. Defeated every obstacle. Except for the trees. I loved climbing them. Grace did not.

Up on our hill, I loved seeing every house, every canopy of trees, every neighbor in their yard, and every mountain in the distance. Grace loved the earth itself. She always dug her toes into the dirt and sang with the birds. I always joined her.

No matter how much time passes, it always brings me back to that one day. My tree was the tallest in the woods. I just wanted to show her my favorite view. So I grabbed her by the hand, physically showing her, every notch to place our feet and every handhold on my tree. I stood beneath her as she followed my instructions. However, due to the weather the day before, the moss was damp and the tree was as slippery as a rock in the river. As she grabbed the trunk where I told her to, her feet slid out from underneath her and her hands lost their grip.

Her head met the rock before my frightened scream met her ears.

Before my scream stopped she was already gone.

The ambulance took her away, as though she could be revived. My mother said it would be alright even though I knew it would never be.

Grace’s funeral was a week later.

Her family ignored me and ended up moving. I think that means they blame me too. I’m not mad at them though. I’m mad at myself. I still am six years later.

I live in the same house, the same distance from those woods, and yet I can never force myself to venture beyond our fence. I barely look in that direction without seeing her face. The traumatically vivid single trail of blood crawling down her cheek like a tear.

I still wish I had never gone into those damned woods. I wish I had let her be. I wish I had never asked her to climb. I did though, and now there’s nothing I can do. I just can’t let go of her.

Today’s my sixteenth birthday. Grace died when we were ten.

I can’t think of that today though. I just can’t.

Downstairs where my party resides, I join my boyfriend, Mark. On the counter, I have an emerald green (my favorite color), two-tier cake calling my name. I enjoy time with my friends, though we aren’t close. None of them have ever heard me speak of Grace. Only Mark knows what happened.

We eat, play games, watch movies, and drink. I don't do it much. I keep myself sober most of the time. I feel a sense of responsibility through fear of something happening where I’m in a state where I can’t help.

After everyone left; Mark and I snuck up to my room and onto my outdoor patio hanging over the lawn. There we stared up at the stars in comfortable silence.

“You know what would be really cool?” he asks.

“Hmm?”

“If we could climb up onto a tree and watch everything from above,” Mark recommends.

“Heck no,” I say, clumsily getting up. Anxiety creeps up my spine.

“You need to let go of her. She was on your mind all night. Besides Love, you’ll have me,” he says reassuringly.

“No, you’ll get hurt. I know it.”

“Nope it hasn’t rained and I’m not a ten-year-old girl. No offense.”

“None taken, but still no.”

“Please?”

“No.”

This time he doesn’t respond with words. He picks me up, puts me over his shoulder then carries me out of the room, while I’m kicking and whisper-screaming at him.

“Shhh! You’ll wake up your parents,” he teases.

He takes us outside and opens the backyard gate where he finally puts me down.

“Now, I won’t make you go all the way, but I will plead with you too,” he says.

“Really, plead?” I scoff. Big mistake.

With that, he drops to his knees dramatically and mimics a cry in a high-pitched voice saying, “OH PLEASE MA’AM, PLEASE, DON’T MAKE ME GO INTO THE BIG SCARY FOREST ALL ALONE.”

“Be quiet you big dummy,” I say, embarrassed. “If I go with you, will you be silent for more than two minutes?”

He lifts himself up from the ground with a mischievous grin. “I can do one, but don’t push it with two.”

He grabs my hand and leads us to the woods.

“Uhm I think it’s your turn to show the way.”

I direct us toward the tree. I could never forget it. Or the blood that was probably still dried on the trunk.

We listened to the crickets and toads. Walked past a pond or two and through bushes with prickly thorns. Without Grace and me walking the trail, the wilderness had taken over. Which would have been fine except we were walking it at night.

Finally, we made it to the small clearing where that huge pine tree still sat. I could still imagine Grace lying, unmoving, at the base of the tree. The darkness wildly triggered my imagination and my brain was screaming at me to turn back.

“C’mon let's go,” he reassures me.

I follow him as he begins the climb. I panic and yank him back down before collapsing back into his arms. I don’t know what has come over me. Sobs wrack through my body as I bury my head into the crook of his neck. Incomprehensibly murmuring; “Please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me,” over and over again.

He holds me and tries to show me how to breathe. Finally, I get myself under control and sit shaky and broken. When I’m done he stands us up and holds me for a few minutes.

“Alright, so how about you go up first? Will that make it better?” he asks. I nod and step back towards the tree. He stays beneath me as a spotter with his hands up.

I reach towards each familiar foothold. The same ones I had instructed Grace to grab. When I got to where she had, I paused before moving on again. Finally, I made it to the top. I beckoned for Mark to go ahead and head up.

I look up at the sky so I don´t worry. I hear his heavy breathing after just a few moments and look over to see him sitting next to me again. I sit on one branch and he sits on the one right next to me. We hold hands over the trunk and lean our heads toward each other.

“Thank you, I think I did need this.”

“Me too,” he says.

“What do you mean?” I ask, confused.

“Grace was my friend too, ya 'know. One of the only ones I ever talked to.”

“Wait, what?” I had no idea. I never made the connection. I feel so bad now. He never talked about it with me, but I always vented to him. Oh God, I’m sure he must have blamed me for a while too. “I’m so sorry. I never knew. I miss her too though. As you can tell. I still blame myself.”

“Me too,” he says.

“You shouldn't, you couldn’t have done anything.”

“I never said I did or didn’t do anything. I just agreed with you. I blame you too,” he says, nonchalantly.

“I-I’m sorry,” I stutter.

“Don’t be, it's all gonna be okay now.”

“What do you mean?” I’m getting scared now. I’ve never seen him with such a murderous look on his face.

Instead of responding he turns around and kisses me. He pulls back and envelopes my body in a hug.

“I love you, Grace,” he says to the woods and sky. To me, he says, “Goodbye.”

I didn’t even have time to scream before I hit the ground.