Thirteen-year-old Emily Oskell licked the pen tip in swift, uniform sequence as her dark hair reflected the sunlight which sank over the golden field. After adjusting the math notebook in her lap, she drove the pen down onto the paper in superfluous scribbling; but the pen refused to make a mark, leaving the paper inkless and torn from the vicious scratching. Sighing in frustration, Emily pushed back her coco colored, flyaway hairs and dropped the materials onto the ground. Next to her, fifteen-year-old Joseph motioned for silence. He did not hold himself to the same standard; however, as the soft click click of the laptop keyboard interrupted the enveloping serenity of the small acreage.
Using the broken pen as justification, Emily gave up on the tedious homework and leaned against the grandfatherly oak. She scanned the surroundings in a blasé stupor. Winding down the middle of the field, a rocky dirt road met Emily and Joseph Oskell’s rickety front porch. On each side small tufts of grass invaded the road’s border with their small, green heads spearing the dirt in triumph; pushing the barrenness back with great vigor and determination.
Past the drooping home, a crowd of trees bordered the Oskell property. Two in particular seemed to stand off from the rest. From Emily’s view, the bigger of the two draped brazened branches protectively over the second’s willowy frame. Beneath the curtain, the smaller tree peered out cautiously. Tiny, wooden limbs crept out into the unforgiving wind: swaying back and forth. It leaned against the larger with childlike gentility. Surrounding the mismatched pair, the wooden crowd whispered and tickled their leaves together. It appeared that they all shared a secret about mother and baby tree which clung so desperately to each other. They grew apart from the two as though they were plagued.
Suddenly a screeching, diminutive Toyota turned onto the dusty road and rolled up towards the house. Emily forgot her observations and collected her books.
“You goin’ inside?” asked Joseph glancing up.
“Yeah.”
“Alright. I’ll come too. I’m pretty much done.”
Emily marched ahead of her brother. As soon as they entered the house, she made a beeline for her room. Sharon, the third and only other Oskell child, lay on the twin bed abreast from Emily’s. Her back stayed toward younger sister even as she sped in.
Emily dumped her homework on her bed. “Hey sis.” No response. “How’d it go?” Sharon stayed silent. Giving up, Emily left the room and joined Joseph in the kitchen.
“She say anything?” he whispered.
Emily shook her head.
Muted voices carried from the bedroom past the living room. With mutual agreement, each strained to catch the arguing parents’ conversation.
“Protection”, “education”, “reputation”, among other words coasted across the kitchen causing even Bob Ross, the Oskell’s family mutt to stir in his warm dog bed and whine in his sleep. With each word the voices grew louder and crosser till finally she could no longer stand it. Emily left the house slamming the door shut behind her. Her stomp did not stop until she found herself beneath the two trees she’d noticed earlier.
Taking refuge next to the baby tree, she felt angry hot tears spill out onto her brown cheeks. Her mind dragged her back to the first night she fell asleep to Sharon’s stifled crying. It near drove her mad: to see her sister doubled-over, unable to contain the sobs shaking her small frame. Worst of all, her sister, who told her everything, refused to give up her secret.
But truth always comes out.
One night, it shook the Oskell household. As the tender flames of light licked at the wood inside the fireplace, Mrs. Oskell watched her oldest stare into the fire, rubbing her feet in resigned mourning. Her motherly senses prodded her. “She’s pregnant,” truth whispered, reaching its icy hand to rip off the self-made blindfold from her vision. Taking one look at her daughter, Mrs. Oskell relented in defeat. “I know,” she whispered back.
Not long after, the whole household knew as well. With much discussion and tearful nights, the Oskell parents finally agreed to preserve their daughter’s future over her soul. They took her to the hospital and rid her of the child.
Emily pondered the morality of such a thing, leaning against the bigger, mother-like tree in her newfound resting place. Leaning her head back, she eyed the sky through the mangled branches. As she stared up, her eyes lit upon a merging warped, wrinkled knot of wood. Pushing tirelessly against the mother tree, the baby devoted all its minute strength to growing up; and all the while the mother pushed down. Down. Down.
Suddenly, a scream of horror rang out from the house.
Heart pounding, Emily galloped inside. Woman’s sobs filled the quiet kitchen. Joseph spun towards the youngest sister upon hearing her enter the house. With a ferociousness Emily had never experienced from her brother before, he pushed her back into the living room shielding her eyes from something unthinkable. But not even he could protect her ears from her mother’s cries of, “My baby, my baby, oh god what has she done, my poor, poor baby.”
Emily let herself sink into her brother’s strong arms.
“She’s dead, Em,” his voice croaked and, to Emily’s astonishment, she realized he no longer held her, but she held him. “She ki… she killed herself, Em”
Emily squeezed her brother with quiet desperation.
“I know,” she whispered back clutching him. Her eyes alighted to the trees out her kitchen window. Once again, it looked as if the mother simply wrapped around the baby, rather than push her into the ground. Father, forgive her. For she knew not what she did, Emily prayed turning her eyes to the sky.
- A. Faith.
