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Dendrology

Thomas Massari

    “I’m a tree!”
    Joe and his co-workers sit at the bench in the park, bemused by the girl before them. A young girl, no more than ten years old, donning green body paint and brown clothing, with outstretched arms. She stood there, unwavering in her stance. Periodically, she would reaffirm the park of her identity.
    “I’m a tree!”
    “Where the hell are this girl’s parents?” one of Joe’s coworkers asked.
    “Yeah, she shouldn’t be out here alone,” another chimed in. “What do you think, Joe? She yours?”
    Joe lets out a chuckle. “Yeah... maybe.”
    “Time to head back,” another coworker said.
    The group of burly men all popped up from the picnic table.
    “You coming, Joe?”
    “I’ll be right behind you guys.” Joe diverged from the group and ambled over to the girl, scaling the patchy hill she was perched on.
    “Hello,” said the girl. “I’m a tree!”
    Joe looked her up and down. “I see that. Do you have a real name?”
    “Call me Tree!”
    “Alright, Tree, my name is Joe.” He outstretches his hand.
    Tree looks down at the hand. “That’s your hand.”
    Joe pulls back his hand. “What are you doing out here?”
    Tree looked at him quizzically. “Well, I’m talking to you.”
    “I meant, why are you out here?”
    “Why am I out here? Well, this is where I was planted by my parents.”
    “Your parents?”
    Tree looked down. “Well, I technically don’t have parents. Just the people that planted me.”
    “Oh... I’m sure they visit you, right?”
    “Um, no. I haven’t seen them since I was planted. But, they’ll be back, eventually”
    Joe’s eyes widened. “So, you’ve just been standing out here, waiting for them?”
    “Yeah, but that’s okay. They’ll be back. Won’t they?”
    Joe stood silent for a couple of moments, staring at the ground. “Well, it seems things are complicated with your parents. You know, sometimes life can get in the way.” Joe took a breath through his nose. “Sometimes, people plant irresponsibly and don’t know how to respond. Sometimes, they care for the tree but can’t take care of the tree.”
    “Why can’t they take care of the tree?”
    Joe’s eyes shift across his surroundings. “They aren’t well equipped to deal with it. Maybe they are too young or too irresponsible to foster a life. It’s a tough thing.”
    Tree drops her arms and sinks her shoulders. “Well, they’ll grow up and come back, right?”
    Joe drops to a knee and puts a hand on Tree’s shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
    Tree’s eyes well up.
    “Hey.” Joe interrupts her tears. “I know you can’t leave where you are planted, but what if I leave and come back with ice cream?”
    “How would I eat it?”
    Joe lets out a chuckle. “I think we’ll be able to figure it out.” He rushed down the hill, to his car. Once he was sat in the driver seat, he pulled out his cell phone, which is inundated with calls from his coworkers and boss. Unfazed by the messages, he locates the contacts folder. Scrolling down the list, he finds the name Julia and clicks the bright green phone icon. The phone chimes, with each interval increasing his heart rate. After a couple of moments, the phone goes to voicemail, with a soft, weary voice greeting Joe.
    “Hey, this is the Fletcher household. We can’t get to the phone right now. Leave a message and your name at the tone. Bye.”
    The high-pitched beep rang in Joe’s ear, leaving him dazed for a moment. “Hi, Julia, this is Joe. I know I haven’t called or visited... for years, but I wanted to know if there’s anything I could do to help with Ricky. Whether that be—”
    Joe’s message was interrupted by the click of a picked up landline.
    The voice of a young boy greeted Joe. “Hello?”
    Joe’s hand began to tremble. “Ricky?”
    “Yeah, who is this?”
    “This is your dad.”

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