Paring a Pair of Pears

This can be read alone as is, or can be read after The Icebreaker Assignment as a continuation.

Craig enters his mother’s home, dodging the many youngsters darting around the house to avoid dropping his dish; the mashed potatoes for the feast. No sooner than he side-steps his youngest niece, Nikki, than he hears his brother, Justin, speaking sharply.

“Nikki! Knock it off! You damn near made uncle Craig drop his dish!”

“It’s all right, Justin. Everything’s fine - she’s just having fun,” responds Craig calmly. Justin has been frustrated and easily irritated since his wife asked for both a divorce and primary custody of their two children. But his gruffness is soon forgotten as he turns to posting something on social media from his phone.

Craig joins his kin for Thanksgiving dinner at his mother’s. The usual festivities occur: the excitement of seeing everyone and their numerous children soon turns to the feast, and then to the drunken, rowdy shenanigans the Markson brothers have come to expect at such large gatherings. It is in the quiet dark of evening when someone brings up the infamous subject among the two youngest Markson brothers: pear trees.

“Craig! Justin! Come in the kitchen, please!” calls their mother. The brothers rush in, and as soon as they see the box of pears on the counter, they each react differently.

Craig bursts out into a fit of laughter, grinning at the continuation of the long-running joke. Justin, however, instantly turns - visually fuming - before storming out of the house. Craig assumes his brother is going out to go smoke. He is proven correct when, minutes later, Justin walks back in, reeking of fresh cigarette smoke.

“You know, Craig, Justin… The wife and I brought a pear pie; would you like some?” someone offers upon Justin’s return.

Craig realizes it is one of their cousins who now teases them about the incident that Justin in particular would love for everyone to forget about, and he watches as Justin shoots the cousin a sharp, disapproving look.

“Shut up, Reggie,” Justin growls. The majority of the family grins and laughs at it.

“I don’t get it....” pipes up one of Craig’s daughters. Emma, the seven year old.

“When we were in high school,” begins Craig, “me and your uncle Justin chased a kid home after school - just fooling around. A bunch of his papers fell out and scattered. One of them was important for a class he wasn’t doing well in, and it wound up being frozen in the pond by the school. He asked us both to help him, but we didn’t. He and a classmate wound up chipping the paper out of the pond all night, and when the teacher for his class heard about it, she assigned me and Justin a fitting punishment; we were made to thaw out that paper for our grade in the class we had her for. And the paper we had to thaw out was for a research paper for pear trees.”

“Stupidest thing I ever heard of!” remarks Justin. His face is twisted in annoyance. “Who writes a paper on a tree?!”

“So what happened to the paper? Did you and uncle Justin thaw it out?” asks one of the other kids. Craig realizes it is his nephew - his older brother Tom’s eldest teen - Jason.

“Well…” Craig takes a moment to pause, recalling, “We took one of mom’s cooling racks, set it in the sink out of the way - in that hallway bathroom upstairs, you know? Most of the page was damaged as the water melted, and then it tore in half when we tried to peel it off the rack and flip it. It was a cover page with a hand-drawn pear, but there were some notes on the back of the paper too.”

“Didn’t you guys end up failing the assignment?” asks Reggie with a rueful chuckle. Justin glares at him again, arms crossed.

“Didn’t fail, but it was like a D or D minus, yeah,” Craig corrects. “Since then, Justin’s hated pear trees and anything associated with them, and I have grown to love them.”

As the evening continues on, Justin and his wife, Kim, get into a massive argument. Kim wants to move out of state after the divorce - with their kids. Justin is understandably upset over it. Again, Craig sees Justin stomp off outside. This time, though, his brother is gone for a long time. Taking stock of the vehicles parked outside, Craig determines his brother has left. He then thinks little more of it, joining their kin in their celebrations. He sees his wife and children off when they leave with relatives - the kids are too tired to keep going.

It isn’t until he, too, heads out that Craig thinks of his brother again. To get home, he has to pass by Justin’s place anyway, so he decides to drive down the street and see that his brother has returned safely. He soon spots the car in the driveway, and is surprised to see his brother sitting out on his porch, smoking. Craig glances at his watch; it’s nearly 3 A.M. He pulls in front of his brother’s house and gets out.

“Justin? What are you doing out here? It’s late.” inquires Craig with concern.

“Yeah, I know. Just… worked up tonight. Kim wants to move so far away... I’ll hardly see the kids,” he replies. He pulls a fresh beer bottle from the cooler beside him and hands it to Craig, who opens it and takes a seat beside him.

“I heard that,” Craig says somberly, before adding curiously, “And the neighbor’s pear tree?” He nods at the fallen pear tree Justin appears to have taken the chainsaw to. Or, at least, it’s Justin’s chainsaw laying nearby. “You don’t think they’ll notice?”

“Always hated that damn tree. Sick of all the crap we get for that stupid assignment - it was so many years ago! Besides, Grace fell down and broke her hip a month ago; they’re getting ready to put the house on the market when they move her in with her son. I warned them I’d cut it down someday, and today was the day.” For a moment the brothers sit in silence, drinking and contemplating their lives.

“You know,” starts Craig, “when the kids were asking me about why we get teased with pears earlier, and I mentioned the notes on the back of the paper…” he takes a long swallow of his beer before he continues, taking his time to word things correctly, “I remembered what some of the notes were.”

“Yeah? So what?” Justin sneers. Craig pays him little mind.

“Well, they were old notes about the symbolism of the pear. What it represents.”

This time, Justin snorts, “What bullcrap.”

“Maybe. But I thought it was nice.”

“So what’s this stupid thing represent then that’s so great?” Justin finally asks, waving an exasperated hand at the felled tree.

“Well, plants as a whole speak to life,” Craig says. “Pears in particular are representative of women; the shape of the pear and the shape of the uterus are similar. Both carry the seed of the next generation within, and both are sources of nourishment and growth. But the pear also represents the other side of life. Separation - sometimes by death, but not always. Like the fruit pulled off of the tree, or the infant ushered from the womb into the world; once they are released from their host, they are on their own in the world. No returning to before.” Craig pauses to take another drink, “Of course, the notes weren’t that deep - they just explained the pear represented both life and separation.”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” asks Justin, his tone lacking.

“I think it’s funny. That assignment changed us in a way. You grew to hate it because of how we were teased about the incident; I grew to love the tree, respect it. Embrace it. I try to plant more trees, and here you are cutting one down in spite.” Craig finishes his beer and stands, ready to take his leave, “And while I don’t find your separation funny, I do find it funny that we have each taken on the different symbolic representations of it. In your case, separation comes in the form of Kim and your kids leaving. In mine, I have planted more flowers and trees and nourished a love of growth in my family. You nourish yourself on social media, while I have largely separated from it. My metaphorical tree is bearing fruit; yours is breaking down, returning to the earth.”

“Not much I can do about that, is there?” Justin scoffs, though he now turns off his phone and places it behind him. Craig looks at his brother and smirks softly.

“Actually, yeah, you can do something,” at his brother’s stare, he continues, “You can plant a new seed. Won’t be the same exact plant, but a new one. The old has withered and died; it is time to plant again.”

To this, Justin says nothing, though Craig can see his brother is processing something difficult and choking back his emotions. He gives him a long hug, says his goodbye, and makes the short drive home. He climbs into bed behind his wife, embracing her once he does. He feels their third child kicking against his hand.

“Hm?” Janet responds sleepily.

“Nothing. Just lucky to have you,” says Craig, taking one of her hands in his.

“Lucky to have you too…” comes the slow answer as she falls back asleep.

The following week, Craig goes to check on Justin at his home again. As he makes his way up the drive, he looks at where the pear tree had stood. It has since been removed, but where it once grew, now a new young tree is planted, anchored against the upcoming weather changes. Justin comes to the door while Craig still stares.

“Felt kind of bad after I cut the pear tree down. Figured I could at least plant something in its place.”

“Another pear tree?” asks Craig. Justin sneers.

“Nah, forget that! I went with Oak. Kinda sick of fruiting trees. Should make a nice shade tree someday, though.”

Craig smiles widely at his brother, “Yeah! Yeah, I bet it will. Good on you - proud of you!”

Justin shoves his younger brother in the shoulder, “Yeah, yeah. You can quit being weird about it now, Mr. Symbolism.”

“Can I now?” asks Craig mischievously. He produces a pear from the grocery sack he has brought with him and presents it to Justin. “Pear? They’re tasty! Give it another try, will you?”

Justin stares at his brother blankly, stating, “Nope, not happening.”

“Oh, come on!” his brother remarks.

“Nope!”

“Spoil-sport!”

“Nimrod.”

“Chicken!”

“Nuisance!” finishes Justin smugly.

Playlist.