Under the Oak Tree

People say there’s a precise moment when a child is no longer a child. For Jackson, that was when he realized his parents were going to get a divorce. Jackson wasn’t old enough to drive but was no longer young enough to think the world was a perfect, happy place. He was in high school; his first year.

It was a night in early autumn when he found out about his parents—about how relationships didn’t always work out how they once did. Also, starting high school was not the easiest. Jackson had grown in favour of comics books over friendships. He lay in bed, reading Alan Moore’s Watchmen. The book had become his shelter; it was an escape from the coldness of the world.

For some reason or another, his parents had expected him to be asleep; incapable of leaving his room past 11PM on a school night. This was not the case. After hours of reading, he felt his stomach rumble, so he went over the different options in his head. There were instant noodles, microwave burritos, nachos—plenty of perfect choices. Nonetheless it was time for a late night snack. He left his basement room, scurrying upstairs to the kitchen, quiet like a mouse. That’s when he heard them. It wasn’t necessarily a surprise, just something he never anticipated. Like any boy who loves his parents, Jackson snuck closer to their room upstairs. It was up in the second floor hallway, their bedroom the only room up there. He inched just past the door, sitting against the wall next to a potted plant. Then he listened.

“We need to do what’s best for everyone. Think about him,” his mother whispered quietly.

There was a pause. They were thinking.

“I know. I just don’t think he’s ready to find out,” his father replied.

“We need to wait till the right time.”

“Let’s give it till the end of the week. He’s got a couple tests coming up and we can try to work things out.”

A tenseness grew in the room. It showed through the way his dad had finished his sentence—an air of uncertainty.

“Work things out?” broke out Jackson’s mother. “The whole reason we’re getting divorced is because we can’t work things out!”

Jackson hugged his legs closer to his chest. He was scared. It wasn’t the type of fear involving a monster, or a creepy crawler, but regardless, it was a fear of the unknown.

“Quiet, you’re going to wake him,” his father urged.

Then the conversation became inaudible. Perhaps they moved further into their room, or maybe they had no need to say anything else. That’s how it was recently: never anything to talk about between the two. Things were falling apart, and Jackson had nothing to do but let it happen—wait until it was all over.

He decided to stay no longer, creeping back downstairs and remembering his midnight snack. Only, now he didn’t feel very hungry. In fact, he decided to forget it all together. There was no one to talk to, especially his parents to which he trusted most. There was nowhere to go. So he lay in bed, his only comfort being his stuffed animal. It was a sock monkey—green and grey. Clenching his grip on the thing, he stared out into the darkness of his room, into the unknown. It was a Sunday and he had school tomorrow. Still he couldn’t bring himself to get a minute of sleep.

* * *

Jackson got up in the morning at the latest his alarm clock would allow; just 45 minutes before his first class. He got ready—same routine as always. His father had already left to work and his mother was making herself breakfast in the kitchen.

“Good morning honey!” greeted Jackson’s mother.

“Morning,” replied Jackson.

“I made you breakfast, and your lunch is just on the counter.”

“Thanks, mom.” Jackson grabbed his things, put on his shoes, then headed out for the door.

“Have a good day at school!” called out his mother as he left. It was the same as always—perfect and happy as if nothing was wrong. All this pretending made Jackson confused. Still he marched on, lifeless like a robot. He put his worries to the back of his head, for school was a whole other challenge.

The day started off with Biology, and Jackson was about as excited as any Grade 8 student. He sat next to a boy named Ben who was, well, alright. Ben had yellow hair and long eyes. Their morning conversation went like this:

“Hey Ben.”

“Hey.”

“Could I borrow a pencil?”

Ben opened his bag, rummaged around a second or two, found one, then handed it over. No words.

“Thanks Ben.”

“Yeah.”

That was that. Jackson had the window to his right. The back of the flat, uninspired school was surrounded by a dense, dynamic forest. It was his view outside the window, but even that was of no interest. He kept his eyes down, glued to his notebook. That way, it looked like he was studying when he spent all his time drawing. He was reimagining superheroes in his head. A cape, an unforgettable smile—the heroes he drew were perfect. His thoughts drifted in and out of good and bad. While not consciously aware, the world made with his pen and paper lifted his hopes up.

He was looking forward to lunch.

When the time finally came he always ate alone. He went to the back of the school, sitting at the edge of the forest. Everyone steered clear of this overgrown and misunderstood place. There were no easy pathways, the only one being riddled with mud. In one spot was a mighty oak tree with a decent log, and it provided Jackson with the perfect seat. He liked the spot because of the quiet; because he was the only one ever out there. Besides, the eerie view didn’t matter; Jackson was always staring down. In his lap was the Watchmen, and he was getting further and further along. He read with music, his earbuds gently playing a collection of lo-fi beats and he kept his baseball cap low, shielding his eyes from the sun and passerbys. Even the mud couldn’t bother him; he wore strong leather boots up to his ankle. Jackson had a way of being resourceful, he just didn’t really realize it. Somehow, he had managed to create the most peaceful escape in this mud-ridden forest. It was his happy place. Among a thousand students, he was completely alone, forever undisturbed and shielded off from the world.

Then one day, Caroline came. She was a few years older and she, too, liked spending her lunches near the forest. With a colourful sweater she knitted herself and those big, blue eyes, she held all the wonder of the world. The two had never crossed paths among the endless stream of kids at the school. As Jackson was buried deep in his reading, she stopped in the pathway, standing directly in front of him.

He noticed her passing by—peripheral vision—but thought nothing of it. Only when she stopped did he look up. Her gaze was directed at the trees, up top to the highest of branches. Her face looked mesmerized. With a relaxed smile on her face, she turned slowly to Jackson.

“Hey,” she said brightly.

Jackson was already staring. He removed his earbuds.

“There’s an owl up there. Up in those trees,” she said to Jackson.

He looked up, and just like that, she had broken his bubble like a needle to a balloon. His eyes flourished with interest, even though he saw nothing.

“Really? Where?”

Caroline came over, squatted down to match his level.

“That lone branch up there, just follow where I’m pointing.”

She leaned in so he could follow a line of sight. Still no luck.

“I’m sure if we wait long enough, you’ll be able to hear it.” So Caroline takes a seat next to Jackson, and the two wait.

“I’m Caroline,” she says, extending her hand out to greet him.

“Jackson,” he replies. “Thanks for pointing it out to me.”

“No problem. You know, I’ve been spotting owls as long as I can remember, and I’ve never seen one this early in the day. Maybe something big is happening. Who knows?” she shrugged. “The world’s a crazy place.”

“Sure is,” agreed Jackson. “I still can’t see it,” he told her, a little disappointed in himself.

“Don’t worry,” she explained. “Owls are hard to spot. If we wait just a little while longer, I’m sure we’ll hear it.”

And so they waited, as watchful as the owl itself; absorbed in the moment. Like a blanket, Jackson was enveloped in a calm; a sudden peacefulness. It was as if his parent’s troubles didn’t exist, as if there were no secrets between his family. It was as if the school didn’t exist, the classmates who were too cool to be associated with him.

Then Jackson and Caroline heard it. It would be so easy to miss buried deep in Watchmen, but now, here with Caroline, it would have been impossible.

The owl let out a long screech. It caught Jackson by surprise.

“I thought owls hooted,” he remarked.

“That’s a barn owl and barn owls don’t hoot. They screech. Isn’t it something else?”

“It’s something else alright,” replied Jackson.

“It’s beautiful.”

Jackson was left with a feeling of awe. It was one that put all his worries at ease, telling him everything was going to be okay. For awhile, the two sat in a continued silence.

“It was nice meeting you,” whispered Caroline after a few sacred minutes. She was careful not to disturb the magic that surrounded them.

She stood up slowly, collected her things, then she was off. Only, it wasn’t until after she gave him the warmest of smiles. Jackson smiled back.

That night Jackson carried that feeling with him. Rorschach was his favourite hero in The Watchmen, but now he was paying a lot more attention to Nite Owl. Then he could hear his parents. Arguing behind closed doors. It took him out of this new world. That hope slowly faded away, and then he was back to where he was. He had trouble sleeping once again that night.

* * *

At 7AM, when his alarm went off, Jackson felt just as sad, if not a little more. He never had enough energy to carry himself through the same morning chores each day: brushing his teeth, getting changed, eating breakfast. He was tired. He was oh, so tired, and it was only getting worse.

Morning class didn’t matter. Jackson could only think of lunch. When it was finally time, he hurried out to the back of the school. He hoped to see Caroline. He hoped neither of them would forget lunch that day.

Under the oak tree, he stared out into the forest. No sign of an owl. The woods were quiet and still on this windless day. Still, Jackson sensed its presence. These conditions were exactly how he imagined an owl lurked.

All lunch had passed. No sign of an owl. No hoots, no screech, nothing.

* * *

This business with the owl continued all week. There was never any sign. Nor did he ever see Caroline. All of this made Jackson very tense. He failed to make friends. His parents kept fighting. Each time he would see them, he was mad at them for never confronting him. His parents were like strangers. It came out as passive aggressive, and his parents didn’t know what was wrong.

Finally, it was Friday, and Jackson had just come home from back-to-back tests. Never once in the same room all week, he found his mother and father sitting in the living room together. They looked calm, determined even.

“Hey Jackson, do you want to sit down for a minute?” his father asked. There was a pause. “We’ve wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay,” replied Jackson. He knew what they were going to tell him and he couldn’t believe it was real; that it was finally happening. He just went along, blankly. He reserved all judgement. If anything, he found himself exercising a state of calm.

His parents pulled up chairs in front of Jackson, who sat on the couch. His mother and father held hands. The love was something Jackson never felt, only now he understood. It took a complicated form, and family was a complicated thing.

“We’ve been going through a very tough time,” began his mother. “Henry and I love you very much but the truth is, we’ve been having issues of our own.” She squeezed her husband’s hand.

Jackson’s father broke in. “We just want the best for you and we’re sorry if things haven’t seemed a-hundred-percent around here. It’s been hard, figuring this out.”

“Jackson, honey. Your father and I, we are going to take a break.”

“Son, we’re getting a divorce.”

There was silence. Jackson widened his eyes a little as the whole world opened up to him. He saw it all. He saw that the good and the bad depended on each other, how much his parents loved him, how much hope there was for a brighter future.

Jackson bottles up his emotions. He tells them it is okay, that he understands.

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” he tells them. “Just to get out, and think for a while.” They look at each other in surprise.

“Okay honey,” replies his mother. His dad agrees with trusting eyes.

The door shuts behind him, and the cool breeze hits Jackson in the face. It feels good, Jackson thinks to himself. Throughout his neighbourhood shines the warm orange glow of the street lights, different than the harsh white lights of the city. He is happy to be here. Tonight is different; the air is warmer than it’s been all year. It’s almost springtime. As Jackson realizes this, he begins to relax. He decides to walk to the forest behind his school. It isn’t a conscious decision, but just where his legs lead him. Of course, he chooses to sit under the same oak tree he spends his lunches at.

His thoughts are of his parents. Mom and Dad, he loves them both. It feels almost selfish how he had acted, but even he can’t be mad at himself. It’s a complicated time, and everyone’s just trying their best. That’s what he tells himself. He begins to feel calm. Calmer than he’s felt all week, all through the uncertainty of it all.

Through his tired gaze, his eyes finally stop. His eyes lay sight on a barn owl, staring right back into his own eyes. Big and unblinking, it rests calmly on a branch—watchful like a lighthouse keeper.

Jackson’s thoughts stop in their tracks. He matches its gaze. Nothing big happens. It’s just him and the owl under the moonlight, and Jackson understands it all. It stares back at him with a knowingness that everything is going to be okay.