The Pear Tree

You open your eyes. The pitter-patter of raindrops on the window has woken you from a dreamless sleep. Another night of delicious nothingness. But now you are awake and the teardrops sliding down the window- pane match those that have begun to trickle from your eyes. A teardrop sneaks its way into your ear, a ticklish reminder of whispers of love. You blink slowly, turning onto your side. Funny how an empty space can feel so full. You turn to face the window, unable to look at the reminder of enforced solitude. You close your eyes and sigh, swallowing back another outpouring of god-awful grief.

Eventually, you sit up. With a sigh you push back the bedclothes and swing your legs over the side of your big, high bed. Ha, you think. Once upon a time that bed was an oasis to which you’d both escape. Now, it’s a raft that you cling to while despair threatens to drown you. The semi-darkness of the bedroom feels oppressive, and you want so much to be free, so you push yourself up and walk to the window. The wind is blowing the curtains about, billowing your nightdress around your ankles. The damp air is refreshing, cooling the tears still on your cheeks. You pull open the curtains and look out upon the windswept garden. A watery sun tries valiantly to warm the day but, against the dark grey sky, it only seems to add a tired sadness. You stand for a moment, willing yourself to move away from the window but you can’t. Your eyes are fixed on the pear tree in the centre of the garden. How many times have you sat underneath that tree, making plans, reminiscing, making love? From your vantage point you can just about make out the roughly hewn heart shape in the tree trunk. You can’t see the initials from where you are, but it doesn’t matter. You know that they are there. The branches of the tree are flailing wildly now as if the tree was panicking in the storm. But, the heavy, round trunk remains steadfast, a reminder that there are still some things that haven’t changed.

Suddenly, a rumble of thunder and a crack of lightning make you jump. Your heart is beating fast, and you begin to pant, wide-eyed, as you watch the top of the pear tree fall into two halves, split down the middle by the lightning. Trance-like you step back into the room and then turn, heading to the door. The stairs are a blur as you run through the house. The back door is flung open, rain immediately spattering on the kitchen floor. Outside you run straight for the tree and press yourself against it, arms wrapped around it as far as you can reach. Already, your nightdress is soaked through, transparent and freezing against your skin. The icy rain has plastered your hair to your scalp and is running down your face mingling with fresh tears. But all you can really feel is the warmth of the tree bark, its roughness scraping your skin as you press your breasts against it. Goose pimples cover your arms, and your feet are numb with cold but still you stay. And even though you feel grit from the tree bark under your fingernails and the taste of rain in your mouth, you stay.

I will protect you. I will love you. I will never leave you.

Time passes. How long? You don’t know and you don’t care. This pear tree is your sun, your sanity and your sustenance. You realise then that there is no wind. No rain. You can feel a still warmth on your back, drying your nightdress. The storm has passed. You uncurl yourself, slowly, from around the tree, fingers stiff, feet still numb. Taking a step back you look for that heart and when you find it you place your hand over it and smile. You can feel its steady beat thump against your palm. Happiness burns inside you as you lean forward and press your lips against the crude engraving.

You are safe. I love you. You are mine.

A rustling above you prompts you to look up where you can see the damage wrought by the storm. The top of the tree droops in two halves. And, in the midst of the mangled branches a little bird pecks at the fine slivers of exposed tree and then, as though it realises that it’s being watched, flies away with its treasure to build its nest.