by Rowan Massey
“This is what you get for being nosy. Now you have to stay here.” I took a few steps away so he knew I was serious. The kittens were mewing loudly nearby. I started off towards them but he panicked.
“No!” he screamed. “Get me out! C’mon!”
I hoped they couldn’t hear the noise back at the house. Congratulating myself for quick thinking, I slipped one sneaker off, took off my sock, and bunched it up before hopping around to get my shoe back on. It felt weird to have one sock on so I took the other off and stuffed it in my pocket. He watched me in confusion and whined that Grandpa was going to kill me if I didn’t let him go. I took his face in my hand and crammed the sock at his mouth. The dirty sock had the unmistakable stench of all dirty socks and it was disgusting, making me cringe on his behalf, but he deserved it for being so annoying. It took a little while of struggling and him trying to bite me, but the sock ended up stuffed in his mouth, muffling his screeches.
I put my back to him and went and gathered up the cats and tuna. Glancing over my shoulder only once, I left Liam to struggle. We’d played games about a year back tying each other to a chair with an extension cord. We always got out of each other’s knots easily. I figured this wouldn’t be any different. I just needed to ditch him for a short while. He’d be free and back at the house by the time I returned.
With my focus on the kittens precariously held within the bundled T-shirt, I continued walking and leaving tuna until Liam was out of sight, out of earshot, and thus out of mind.
I ended up in a gully where fallen branches had rolled downhill over the years and caught under a large, sprawling oak tree, creating a thicket of rotting wood. It was as good a place as I was going to find. Putting the kittens down again, I crouched and started to clear a space. With a little work, I created a spot surrounded by enough branches that they wouldn’t wriggle away. I filled it with the freshest fallen leaves, and having placed them in the cozy nest, I spread my T-shirt out over the branches above their heads so that they had extra shelter from rain. I would bring better things for them when I got the chance.
There was one last chunk of tuna left, along with some fish juices, so I left it for the mother. Hands on hips, I admired my handiwork and rested. The old oak filtered the sun down to us, and I was satisfied. I’d never taken care of any pets before. No one had ever told me that people love their animals. Really love them in the same way we all love other people. But now I knew.
I had almost six weeks to make sure they were fed and healthy, then I could leave the rest to the mother. I no longer thought my parents would let me take one home—that had been a pipe dream—but I’d probably see them around for years of summers to come.
On a happy whim, I went to the trunk of the tree and reached for the lowest limb. Pulling myself up, the bark scratched my chest. I hadn’t checked for bugs first, and a stream of black ants near my face alarmed me for a split second, but I easily avoided them and kept going, ignoring the slight pain of the way the bumps and branches dug into my hands.
Summer meant tree-climbing season for me, since there were no appropriate trees in our neighborhood back home, and I’d only just gotten big enough to climb high without getting scared. Grandpa had taught me all about how to climb a tree. I could shimmy up the trunk using the strength of my legs and I knew to always have at least three arms and legs firmly gripping onto something sturdy. I knew to never sit out on a limb or hang from a branch that I couldn’t safely drop from.
Each branch conquered made my chest swell not just with labored breath, but with pride and excitement. I told myself not to look down, but I did tilt my head back and look up. The top was so high. I didn’t know how far I could go before the branches would get too thin and weak. The leaves rustled up there in the wind.
A bird launched from a nearby branch as I approached. It startled me. I wobbled and gasped, clinging for dear life with my legs, scrambling for a better handhold. My arms were tiring to an extent that it was worrying. A minute passed by while I slowly regained my courage, letting my heart go from a rapid pump to a slower pace. The kittens sounded distant below. Part of me wanted to retreat, but Grandma and Grandpa were sure to get quite a story from Liam, and I was likely in enough trouble to be kept indoors most of the day, maybe even on the fourth of July. I might be banned from going into the woods, even for tree climbing. Maybe I would have to sneak out in the middle of the night to bring tuna. I would need a flashlight…but I put schemes aside and looked up again, examining the branches available. There were only four more branches that would hold me. I knew I could do it.
Much more patiently and carefully than when I set out, I clung to the trunk and stretched to grab the next branch. The rest of the climb was hyper-focused and more serious than fun. I knew I could die or end up in a wheelchair if I messed up. When I reached the last branch that could hold my weight, it was a surprise. I was immensely impressed with myself. I sat facing the trunk, straddling the branch. The tree slowly swayed in the wind. It was an airy feeling.
Looking around and still trying hard not to look down, I saw the roofs of many houses and barns, and the tops of endless trees. There was a hill to my right, and I thought I could see my grandparents’ neighborhood almost behind me, but I was a little turned around, and wasn’t sure. A grin spread across my face. I told myself to never stop climbing trees when I grew up. It never made sense to me when my dad complained about having to go on the roof to clear the gutters. I’d never be like that when I became a man. I’d never forget how to have fun.
My arms and legs were like jelly. What would happen to me if I couldn’t make it down? If I got too weak, would I fall? I couldn’t think that way. That was the way boring adults thought. I had to make it stay fun.
With one last look around, enjoying the wind on the scratches on my arms, I readied myself to head down and sideways. That was when I glanced down for the first time. Blood rushed to my head, making me dizzy, and my arms trembled. I closed my eyes and focused on the solid tree against my skin. I groaned and told myself to focus on each branch that I needed to reach, not on what was beyond that.
With a deep breath, I was able to calm down enough to get to the next branch, and the next, and the next. I moved with a sort of rhythm that helped me do what needed to be done, instead of freaking out over what could happen at any moment. I couldn’t believe it when I neared the ground enough to look down without fear.
Four branches after that and I was standing on solid earth. I let my head fall back and a cry of relief left my smiling mouth. Laughing, I let my weak legs finally give in and crumple my body to the ground. Sweat clung to leaves, twigs, and dirt, but I didn’t care. I was dying of thirst and didn’t care about that either. I could only hear one kitten, but surely they were alright. I wasn’t worried.
In one afternoon I’d saved a family of cats, tied my brother to a tree, climbed a giant oak, made it back to the ground, and soon I’d survive my grandparents’ wrath. I went over every moment in my mind and swore I’d never forget any of it. I’d never felt so downright heroic.
Having caught my breath, I rolled over and decided not to go back for a while. I would have laid on a rock or big log instead of the itchy ground, but the bugs would get at me in any case. I stayed there and closed my eyes.
I didn’t know how long I’d been laying there by the time I pried my eyelids open and found myself staring up through the tree one last time. The light had dimmed just enough to tip me off to the fact it was past dinner time and well into the evening. I’d slept. How in the world had I slept on the ground in the middle of the forest? I’d been so incredibly tired, not just physically, but mentally.
I brushed a beetle off my shoulder, ran my fingers over all the bites and scratches covering my chest, and put a hand to my belly. Starvation ate at my stomach, making me nauseated. Cautiously, I pushed myself up to a sitting position and wobbled to my feet. My shoes dragged and I slumped like a zombie. Too distracted by my complaining inner monologue, I didn’t sp
ot the mother cat at first, but she made sure I noticed her hiss as I went near the nest to check on them.
I smiled. That was why they were quiet. She’d probably been nursing them. I put my hands up in a sign of surrender.
“Don’t worry, girl,” I said. “I’m going home, believe me.”
She didn’t lunge at me as I passed, and I turned my back to them, making my way back towards the house, or at least in that general direction. After stopping to pee on a bush, I slowly went on my way home. The trees were all the same, and there weren’t a lot of landmarks, so I got a little confused as I tried to navigate. I kept the sun to to my left. It was starting to set. My body was heavily fatigued, and I wasn’t sure if I’d make it before things got dark. It was scary but I was brave.
A strange sound beyond a small hill and a clump of bushes on my right was ignored at first, but I paused to listen when it kept going. It was a wet snort like when someone has a cold. There was someone over there. I headed that way instinctively, expecting to see a neighbor lady out on a quick hike with her dog or something.
It was Liam.
I was shocked to see he hadn’t escaped from the tree. His red face was slimed with snot and tears. Sweat soaked through his shirt. He’d tried to get an elbow through the belt but had ended up twisted painfully with one arm stuck, unable to pull it all the way through. The skin on his arm was blotchy purple from lack of blood flow and raw from being dragged against the bark. My dirty sock lay at his feet.
When he spotted me, he screamed and kicked. It sent an electric chill over my skin in a way that even looking down from the top of the tree had not done. I’d never heard anything like it. The keening, hysterical note ripped through his throat and choked him, causing him to gasp for breath, eyes wide and unblinking. I watched him stare at me as if I were a monster about to rip him to shreds.
“Liam…what…”
“Get away from me! Go away!” It wasn’t his usual bratty tone. How long had he been stuck that way? It had been hours. He was gasping for breath. Not just panicked, he was struggling to breathe. Pulling his elbow through had tightened the belt so much that he couldn’t drag enough air into his body.
I put my hands up the same way I had for the mother cat just minutes ago, and kept going towards him slowly. His face was terrified and accusing. His leg jerked out at me in self defence, but he was too weak to make a real impact.
Reaching my hands out slowly, I worked at the buckle, but it was so tight that I couldn’t undo it. I was scared. What had I done? The way it dug into his bruised skin had to be incredibly painful.
“I’m trying,” I heard myself say in a wobbling voice. Tears came to my eyes. “I’m sorry. Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m trying.”
In the end, I was able to get him out by pulling the belt down, going around the tree to dig my fingernails under it and yank down at different points. When it got loose, Liam’s eyes widened with new terror, and he started frantically sucking in the warm air.
I finally unbuckled the belt, and he fell to the ground, landing on his good side, but he immediately knelt instead and cradled his arm. His little hand went from his arm to his chest, back and forth, unsure which was worse.
“Hurts,” he croaked.
My hand went to my mouth and I started to cry. I couldn’t help it. I’d tortured him. He would never forgive me.
He gave a sharp gasp, threw his head back, and his body jolted. His high-pitched scream shot through the trees like a lightning bolt. I remembered my leg being asleep in the van and how much that had hurt as the blood came back. I’d put him in hell.
Shaking, I got onto the ground next to him and put an arm around his waist. He leaned away from me, heartbreakingly distrustful. His chest started to hitch up. He hyperventilated with sobs.
I sat next to him for a good long while, mind scrambling. What was I supposed to do? I didn’t want to leave him. He slowly, shakily, tilted back until he lay on the ground. He was weak and hurting. What if I ran for help and something else bad happened? I told myself to leave him on the ground and run home, but I was frozen. Internally, I was screaming at myself to go get Grandpa, but I was about as useful as a statue.
Minutes went by, dragging like years, and eventually Liam started to calm down. He squeezed his eyes shut now and then, but kept them mostly open and staring into the distant sky. Fear electrified me one more time when I saw his focus travel to my face. He stared expectantly, and my mouth opened, but my apologies were worthless.
“You’re so mean,” he said. “I just wanna go home.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again, not knowing what else I could say.
“Why are you so dirty? You stink. You’re supposed to wear your shirt. You’re in big trouble.” Even as injured as he was, he was still the same old Liam, but talking seemed to tire him. He let his head flop in the other direction, sighing.
“Grandpa will carry you home, okay? I just have to run and get him.” I got to my feet. When I stood over him, he stared up at me fearfully. “I’m really sorry. I’ll run really fast, okay?”
He nodded. “I want Grandma. I’m thirsty.”
“I know. Me too.”
The sun was setting and it was already getting dark under the canopy. The trees seemed to loom like angry men, whereas they had seemed like my friends before.
I started off running at first, but the shadows made it harder to navigate the underbrush without tripping. I saw a light bobbing and sweeping across the treeline, and the lights of the house beyond that.
“Hey!” I yelled, voice cracking and uncertain. I knew I looked horrible, and as soon as I was spotted, anyone who saw me would think something crazy had happened. Well, something crazy really had happened.
The light found me and blinded me. I put a hand up and squinted.
“Clay? Clay!” It was Grandpa. I ran to him and he to me. When we reached each other he hugged me tightly, leaning down to grip me to his chest. “Where’s your brother?” he asked, and extended the flashlight towards the trees. “Where’s Liam, Clay? Isn’t he with you?”
When I couldn’t answer, he took my shoulder in his strong grip and gave me a small shake.
“Tell me!” he demanded.
I pointed in the direction I’d left him. “He’s—I—I have to bring you to carry him. He can’t…”
He was stunned for a moment, then swung the light around towards the house and started switching it off and on.
“Nadine! Nadine!” He shouted. His voice felt like an explosion that would shake the earth we stood on. Grandma opened the back door immediately. “Call nine one one! Liam’s hurt!”
I saw Grandma put both hands to her mouth and hurry back inside.
“Okay buddy, show me where he is. Don’t you worry. He’ll be fine, but let’s hurry.”
As we walked back through the trees at a fast pace, I grew quickly confused by how different everything looked in the light of the flashlight. It was already starting to lose batteries. I was getting frantic and Grandpa had been tripped up by fallen branches twice, making me doubt his ability to carry Liam home.
When I estimated we should be approaching the spot, I started to yell Liam’s name. I didn’t recognize my own voice anymore, but I kept calling for him until Grandpa shushed me and held up a finger. We paused to listen.
“Go away,” Liam’s little voice was weak and whining. “I want Grandma. I’m thirsty. Go away.”
We hurried towards the sound and found him curled up pathetically on his side. Even in the dim light, I could see the dirt stuck to his tear-stained face.
Grandpa groaned to his knees and started running his hands over Liam’s limbs. “Tell me where it hurts,” he said, sounding utterly calm and gentle, even though I knew he was as panicked as I was. I was awed by his self control.
Liam pointed to his shoulder and chest. Grandpa cautiously felt over his bones for injuries. When Liam hissed and shouted in pain, he lifted up Liam’s T-shirt and pointed the flashlight at his pale skin, fi
nding a nasty bruise in a line across his chest from the belt. Seeing it sent my sense of guilt into near hysterics. What was Grandpa going to do to me when Liam told? Would anyone ever trust me again?
“Okay baby boy, let’s get you home.” He took Liam by his good arm to help him sit up, then pulled his little body to his chest until he could wrap his weak legs around Grandpa’s waist. Grandpa stood with my help and a lot of groaning. “Poor little buddy.” He soothed when Liam whined, and rubbed his back with his large hand.
Grandpa wordlessly took the flashlight from where he’d stashed it in his jacket pocket and handed it to me. I led the way, sure to look for anything that could make him trip, pointing to protruding things so he would take notice.
“You’re doing great, Clay,” he said to me, just as calmly and gently as he’d talked to Liam. “Almost home.”
I didn’t deserve to be talked to nicely, or to be comforted. The knowledge of that made me cringe. I’d never once felt so guilty that I’d gladly anticipated my punishment, but I did right then.
