Inspiration

This story was inspired by pictures that my friend and I found. Coauthored by M.E. Barstow.

The great oak stood alone in the lot, as it had done for years, the tremendous, elegant branches illuminated by the yellow light of a solitary lamppost. Rain drummed down on the leaves, the first storm of the season provoking the smell of damp earth and settling dust to permeate the air. The streets were disserted, the many nature-fearing citizens having found shelter from the rain in the many buildings and houses. Restaurants would have hour waits tonight, and every film at the many cinemas would be standing room only.

            Nothing could be heard over the rain, not the distant keen of taxi horns or the whistle of the trains and subways, nor the halting shuffling steps of the old man, making his slow, arthritic way toward the oak, an umbrella clutched in a shaking hand. He stopped, putting a hand out to the lamppost to steady his aching body as he gazed at the tree, letting memories flood into his mind of days under the grand branches.

            The seemingly endless summer days he had spend here with her. She had been a creature of perfect beauty, with shining golden hair and bright blue eyes that always sparkled, especially when she smiled. As he watched the rain swirled to form the figure of his lost love. She beckoned to him with her ethereal hand. He took a step forward, the rain spilling off the edges of his umbrella, shrouding him in a private pocket of protection from the downpour.

             He was unsure why he had come today, why he had allowed memories to overwhelm him. It had been fifty long years since that day. The day when she had disappeared from his life, right here at this tree, yet here she was before him. He stretched out his wizened hand and parted the veil of water surrounding him. As his hand touched hers it regained its lost youth of years gone by. His bowed shoulders unfurled, the worry lines of grief and age faded from his face. He was young again, "a strapping young lad" as his mother would have said, with thick black hair, deep green eyes and a wicked grin.             Exactly the type of boy to see the innocent "new girl" and instantly know she had to be his. And he had pursued her, with unceasing passion and dedication. The unseen hunter, he slowly seduced his prey. The rest of the students watched with fascination this slow dance of courtship. She had mocked him at first, ignoring him in favor of others, watching him as she verbally taunted his appearance, gait and anything else she could possibly find fault with. He began to despair. She was not the easy catch that so many others were. She did not swoon into his arms, a willing victim. No, she was too perfect for that, too controlled. But he caught her staring at him during classes, during their breaks, though she thought she was being subtle.

            One day their eyes met. He stared at her, she at him. They would have stayed there, gazing into each others eyes had the bell not rung. They both hurried to their next class. She kept glancing back as she walked down the hall, hoping to see him following. He could see the faint blush tinge her cheeks and glowed with a sense of victory. Or did until he caught her in the arms of another. He stopped in his tracks; uncertainty permeated his slim frame, which had gone rigid in shock. The hurt in his green eyes made her turn her head away from him. The intruder whispered something in her ear. By the smug look on the intruders face her false smile secured his feeling of domination. The intruder thought he could break her, how wrong he was.

            Three days later, she sought him out, tears running down her fair cheeks. It was the first time he'd seen her since the incident and he was determined to show her a cold shoulder, inflict upon her his own frustration and betrayal, but one look into her eyes melted his heart. He let her sob into his chest for what felt like hours. It was the first time they had touched.

            It was also the first time he had felt the ache. He held many in his arms before, but they had never inspired such a feeling before. He felt as if there were a living thing in his chest trying to escape. This new feeling made him scared, and vulnerable. He had no way to express it that he felt would be adequate. So he held her as she sobbed and fought his own inner battle silently. He didn't ask her who he was, as much as he longed to. He quelled the desire to destroy his competition as it fought to consume him. He wanted to kill the one who had done this to her, but he held his tongue. It wasn't his place.

            But the peace wasn’t to last. It never does. Into their calm sanctuary burst the intruder. At once he felt himself go cold, ice cold. The intruder ripped her from his arms and flung her across the grass. Snarling he launched himself at the intruder. She screamed at him to stop, but he couldn't, neither of them could. His fists dug into the other boy's stomach as his own hair was ripped from his head. He knew he was bleeding, but so was the intruder and the pain was for her. He reveled in that. Her screams seemed to spur his opponent on and the rain of blows fell harder on to his head.

            Struggling, he managed to grab a hold of his opponent and flung him to the ground. He stood hunched and panting in the rain. Those who had followed the intruder to witness the fight said that he looked almost savage. The intruder lay groveling on the ground and he turned away in disgust. He was stopped by the look of horror on her face.

“I-”
“No. I don't want to hear it.” She turned and fled back into the safety of the school building as the administration converged upon him, seizing his arms and those of his opponent, dragging them both back into the offices.

            He tried desperately to find her that day, but she had disappeared with the last of the rain. His friends began to scorn him and his grades dropped drastically. He sat for hours under the boughs of the great oak tree scribbling in his note book that was now his constant companion. One day a shadow fell over his cramped form.

            He gazed up at her in shock. Her hair was pulled back neatly and her skirt was perfectly pleated, as always. Her gaze rested on his hands where the remains of his punishment were still visible. “You didn't have to do that, you know.” Her words hit him like lightning and he opened his mouth to make a cutting response.

            But nothing came to mind. He sat there staring at her like a buffoon. She stood there looking at him with a faint smile on her lips. He scrambled to his feet. He had forgotten that she was his equal, not an object to be conquered. "I'm sorry, it won't happen again," he murmured.

            She met his eyes, something unreadable in the blue depths. “Why?”

            "Well, I uh," he found it very hard to think when confronted with those eyes.

She pressed her lips together, her forehead crinkling. “You don't have to fight for me; I can fight my own battles.” Seemingly without thinking, she reached up and plucked a leaf from the branch above their head and twirled it between her fingers. “It looks like it will rain again tonight.”

            "Do you like rain" he asked tentatively. She looked in his eyes and gave him the look. That "wouldn't you like to know" look, and smiled. He tried again. "What are you doing tonight?" She blinked at him and he felt his breath catch. The unequivocal fear that she might say no had hardly occurred to him until she was actually in front of him and he kicked himself for his stupidity.

            "Today is Friday," she pointed out. He gulped. "So, it's not a school night." His heart sank, there was a "but" there somewhere. "But," she said, "Tomorrow is Saturday." He stared at her in consternation, what was that supposed to mean!?

            "And I have Saturday's off from work," she informed him. Finally it clicked in his head.

            "Doyouwannagotothecinema?" He blurted, and instantly felt his pale cheeks flame. Her mouth quirked up into an amused grin as he hit his lip, abashed. At that moment one of her friends ran up and dragged her away. As she was torn away from him she dropped a piece of paper on the ground. It read -Call me. 876-4534. She looked back over her shoulder pointedly.

            He stooped down quickly, preventing the paper from getting soaked through and rendering her number illegible. His eyes followed her down the street noticing her friend glancing back at him every few feet. He smirked to himself, pocketed the number and picked up his notebook. The trek home seemed faster today then it ever had before, his head so filled with thoughts of her he could think of nothing else.

            He grabbed that day's paper off the kitchen table when he got home. Frantically he looked at the cinema showings for the weekend. All he could find was "The Jazz Singer," it looked interesting so he checked the times. There was a showing at eleven. Was that too early? It had all been so easy before her. They had fallen into his arms, and now he could hardly concentrate on the newspaper. With a sigh of annoyance, he extracted a well worn pack of cards from his coat pocked and shuffled them with long practiced ease. He dealt the game quickly, reveling in the patterns and strategies the game presented. 

            He knew the cards by heart now, the feel of them. The one with the worn spot in the middle was the Jack of Spades, and the one with the dog-eared corner was the Queen of Hearts. Immersed in the game he gave no thought to the time, and before he knew it his mom was calling him to dinner. Something was nagging at him; he could feel it at the back of his mind. Then it hit him. There was obviously something about him she liked, as little as he understood why. He dealt himself the seven of hearts, six of clubs and five of diamonds in quick succession, his mind clearing with every move. He didn't have to try to conquer her, per se; he just had to win her over irreversibly. The Ace of Spades held the answers; it was just like a game of cards: everything had its own place. He felt a smile spread over his lips.

He could do this. It was easy, and it felt so right. He couldn't explain this new feeling that he felt blossoming in him. His chest eased up and he felt his shoulders loosen as if released from a burden he hadn't known was there. Feeling renewed with this confidence he grabbed his phone to call her. His fingers trembled in the wheel as he flicked the correct numbers into the sequence. He held the receiver to his ear, half hoping she wouldn't pick up.

            She did. It was the longest awkward silence of his life.

            "Hey," he blurted into the void.

            "Hey," she replied. He could see her cool smile in his mind. Afterwards he wasn't sure how he managed to tell her about the film; all he knew was that he had a date for eleven o'clock Saturday morning. The rest of the week passed in a blur of shy smiles and awkward conversation. He felt his annoyance growing; he'd never had this problem before, what was wrong with him now? And of course there was the omniscient smile that played over her lips every time his hand brushed hers that drove him absolutely insane.

            Then one day he could bear it no more. He was bound and determined to make something happen. Every time it seemed like he was close to having her in his arms she flitted away. He would stand for it no longer! He couldn't let her have full control over the tumultuous ride that was their semblance of a relationship. So he waited under the tree for her. As she passed by he called out to her, beckoning her into the shadows under the gigantic boughs. As she came closer he felt a thrill run through his body, which was now tense with anticipation. Her eyebrows drew together when she saw him. “Dominic?” He reached out and entwined his fingers in hers, pulling her closer. His other arm snaked about her waist.  She tried to twist away, “What are you doing?” He took a deep breath and his lips descended upon hers, silencing any further questions. He broke away, smiling slightly manically. “Kissing you, last I checked.” She didn't respond, but her eyes were very wide.

            They stood there for what seemed like eons. He stared anxiously at her face, searching for some clue as to what she was thinking. All he could see, however, was the top of her head. Then she looked up at him, smiling. She reached up and hooked her arm behind his head. "I was wondering when you were actually going to act.” She smirked slightly, her eyes twinkling.

            Still smiling she pulled him in for a deep kiss that left him gasping. He was still gasping when she took his hand and started to lead him towards the side walk. Startled, he stopped. "Where are we going," he asked. "You'll see." The leaves on the great oak in the centre of town were just changing, the great boughs creating a natural screen from the mostly empty road. His breath steamed in front of him and she laughed. “Your nose turns red in the cold.”

            He smiled, and a look of wonder passed over her face. "What," he asked. "It's just that's the first time I've ever seen you smile," she replied. Grinning he buried his face at the base of her neck. She let out a yelp and shoved him playfully. "You're freezing," she exclaimed. “It's cold out here,” he explained gently, earning himself a slight shove. He laughed again, grabbing her shoulders and kissing her. “I'm sure you could warm me up though.” She laughed, pulling a yellowing leaf from the tree and twirling it between her fingers. “I've always loved this time of year… When I was little, I'd come and sit at the base of this tree during a rainstorm and the leaves were always so thick I wouldn't get a drop on me…”

            She began to dance in leaps and bounds looking for all the world like a tree sprite. He leaned against the tree, enthralled by her movements. Pirouetting, she lost her balance. He leaped forward to help her, but they were both pulled down by her momentum.  They fell into a pile of leaves, both laughing. As the leaves settled over them, she rolled, resting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, breathing in the scent of her hair. She rolled over onto her back beside him.

            They lay in silence, leaves covering them slowly as the sky darkened around them until at long last, she shivered and got to her feet. “I should go… my mother will be worried about me.” He scrambled to his feet, reaching for her hand. She smiled over her shoulder at him and disappeared through the curtain of leaves back into the world of reality. He sighed and slumped against the weathered trunk, staring after her. If he breathed deeply he could still smell her above the dampness of the oncoming rain. Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair and began to exit back into reality. But something caught his eye. A glint of silver hidden in the thick loam. He knelt quickly, pulling the locket out of the leaves. He licked his lips, wondering if he should open it, or if it was even hers. The desire to open it almost overwhelmed him, but instead he put it in his pocket. He would give it to her tomorrow. Thunder sounded overhead and he turned up his collar. Taking a deep breath he dashed out into the chaos. Rain pelted him, soaking his hair and clothes. He'd be wet through by the time he got home. He ducked under a stoop, taking shelter from the storm for a moment. A streetcar roared by, sending a wave of dirty water over him. Cursing softly, he darted back out into the downpour. Finally he reached his own stoop. The lights were on, which was strange. His parents were supposed to be at dinner. He opened the door. The first thing he saw was his mother's horrified face. “Where have you been?!” she all but shrieked. He stared back at her dull incomprehension. “What do you mean?” "My god," her voice was almost to high to hear by now. "The police were here earlier!" He looked at her aghast. “I haven't done anything! This time.” She just stared at him for a second. The next he was having the breath squeezed out of him. He could barely manage a "Mom, I'm fine," before she released him from the hug.

 

“Apparently the Connolly girl went missing and her mother thought that she might be here?” His mother gazed up at him, her eyes in suspicious slits. “What are you not telling me? Is she pregnant? If she is pregnant, you do know that you're going to have to marry her.” He recoiled away from her sharply. “Isn't that a little drastic?” She reached for him, but he was already out the door. Grabbing his coat on the way out, he leapt off the front stoop and sprinted back to the tree. Breathless, he collapsed at its base in a fetal position and started sobbing.

            At first he wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but slowly he felt his body start to warm. When he felt fingers running through his hair, he knew he wasn't dreaming. He rolled toward his companion and smiled as their eyes met. "Hey there cutie," she said stroking his hair. "What happened, tell me what happened," he pleaded. She shook her head. Golden hair cascaded around their heads, creating a cocoon of comfort and warmth as she looked down at him. He wrapped his arms around her slim waist, pulling her closer. “It's alright. Everything's okay.” And for a few months he believed her. Everyone did. Except his parents who seemed to believe that she was some sort of she-devil come to steal his soul. Well, that's old folks for you.

            Almost every night, he would come home to another shouting match with his father that would almost always end with blows while his mother shrieked from a corner that she was going to call the police, but she never did. The nights always ended with him storming out of the house to shelter under the boughs of the old oak. He would sit at the base and stare up into its massive branches. One night inspiration came to him. The rough bark felt comforting for some strange reason, and it was a nice night out. Standing up he reached for the lowest branch and hauled himself up. It was easier than he remembered from his childhood and he was quickly ensconced in a protective nest of branches.        

Within days, he had created a shelter of sorts among the boughs. It wasn't much, but he could stretch out to sleep and it was relatively warm. The best part about it though was his complete isolation from the outside world. The minimal traffic on the street outside his shelter didn't bother him and no one could see in to gawk at the boy sleeping in the tree.

            He had even managed to slip back to his house to grab a few things. A small hole in the bark was dedicated to his lucky lighter, the locket and her picture. When the loneliness overwhelmed him he would lay and gaze at the small shrine. It was all polished off by a tarp he had grabbed; smeared with dirt and leaves it protected him from the worsening rain. He had further disguised it with a second layer of branches, creating a weather proof sanctuary.

            He couldn’t face the teachers’ looks of disdain as he stumbled into class, disheveled and sleep deprived, lacking his former wit and aptitude for the lessons. His peers lost all respect for him as he sunk slowly into depression, only fuelled by his weekly visits home to replenish his supplies.

            Finally, he could stand it no more. One night he went to her window and knocked. At first nothing happened and a faint sense of panic began to well up in his chest. Then he saw a faint movement behind the gauzy curtains. Her head appeared and her eyes widened in surprise. The window opened slowly. “What are you doing here?” She hissed. “If my parents catch you here they’ll kill you!”

            She looked so desperate; he almost didn't want to tell her. "I'm leaving, and I want you to come with me," her shocked look told him her answer. "Please," he begged.

            "I can't," she whispered. With a jerk the man returned to the roar of the night, the rain had stopped. "I can't," he whispered.