The Tree Goddess

by Tom Raimbault

  It started as a simple dream in the early hours of sleeping. Mary was sitting in the living room where she suddenly became aware of Daren standing on the roof of the house. He pushed a wire down the chimney and through the fireplace while calling out to her in an eerie voice. “Mary? Mary? I have a surprise for you, Mary.”

  Mary watched as the wire came out of the fireplace, drawing closer to her. For the life of her, she did not want to make contact with that wire. Drawing back towards the piano, Mary suddenly heard bloodcurdling screams from within the antique vase. It was screams of a woman pleading for mercy and begging for help. What was in that vase? Mary just had to look. But overpowering fear of seeing the unknown woke her up.

  Mary just had to reach her fiancé, Daren! It was now Saturday morning at 1:14am and he was most definitely at whatever destination he needed to be and sleeping. But just as usual, there was no answer from his cell phone. Mary was tired of leaving voice messages and bouncing from anger to worry. Perhaps a call to Daren's mother in the morning would answer all the burning questions. All she could do, now, was lie in bed and concentrate on falling asleep.

  There was no need to fret or worry. Grandma Trivelli would watch over the young woman and see to it that all was well. Mary did, after all, have the shrunken corpse of her grandmother proudly displayed on the piano, in a glass case filled with lamp oil. She looked like a miniaturized Sleeping Beauty, just resting on the piano with a fresh cut rose laid over the glass case. Mary would often sit at the piano and play for her dear grandmother who just floated ever so lifeless in over a century of preservation.

  Although Grandma Trivelli enjoyed Mary's musical performances, the ultimate reverence would be to undo the rubber stopper of the glass case and taste some of the fluids. Mary drew near to the transparent, miniaturized coffin and breathed deep the smell of antique death. That's when she sat up in bed, startled from another bizarre dream.

  Mary couldn't take much more of these horrific dreams. And where did such a ridiculous concept of a glass coffin come from? Perhaps it was on the day of Daren's, father's funeral.

  Chapter 2

  It was like any normal funeral as a crowd of somber faces circled his final resting place to bid farewell. Holy water was sprinkled and roses were placed on the casket by a teary-eyed wife. Her 28-year-old son, Daren, along with other 2 sons, Eric and Anthony, did their best to comfort Mom. Accompanying Daren was his fiancée, Mary, who was saddened that her future father-in-law would not see his grandchildren.

  Just as any funeral, the priest made the closing prayer, “Oh God, by your mercy rest is given to the souls of the faithful, be please to bless this grave.”

  He was young, only in his late 50s. Yet there was nothing out-of-the-ordinary about his death other than a sudden heart attack. It's the cold shock that life throws at us. One day everything is fine, and the next day someone is gone.

  “Eternal rest: grant unto him, oh Lord.”

  “And let perpetual light shine upon him.”

  Daren's father would be placed in the family mausoleum containing his grandfather, grandmother, two uncles and their wives. But there was something peculiar about the mausoleum that Daren and his two brothers would discuss later that day during the luncheon. Daren had only visited the mausoleum as a young boy to see his grandfather, and the experience was very odd.

  * * *

  “So are you going to visit Dad in his new place?” Daren spoke up later that afternoon at the luncheon. He was the oldest brother and wondered if the other two had ever gone into the mausoleum.

  Anthony answered, “Sure, why not?”

  Daren sighed, “Well, I suppose I better make a habit of it. I mean, what's the difference? We looked at him all morning during the funeral. Why not next month, next year and the years to come?” Daren was speaking of a controversial method that the older generation of the family practiced, allowing mourners to see the body of the deceased whenever desired. Unlike most mausoleums, this one had crypts that opened which allowed one to gaze in a glass tank filled with formaldehyde containing the body of the deceased relative. The formaldehyde preserved the body so it looked exactly the same as the day of the funeral.

  Daren's brother, Eric, did once go to the mausoleum and provided an account of his experience. “It's weird; I went one Sunday afternoon with Mom and Dad to visit Grandpa. Dad pulled out the drawer, and we all looked. You know how the mortician is supposed to glue the eyes shut along with the mouth, nose, ears and stuff? Well, I guess one of his eyes wasn't fully glued during the process. Or maybe the liquid they put in the tank ate away at the glue. I don't know; but his eye was open! It just kind of looked at you as you stood there, gazing at a body that's been dead over 25 years.”

  Mary was doing everything in her power to be well-mannered and understanding of the three brothers who lost their father. But the conversation was a bit disturbing, especially just moments before eating. The look of disgust could be seen on her face, and Daren put his arm around his fiancée's shoulders while proceeding to speak. He intended to steer the conversation in a different direction. “I don't know; whoever thought of that idea was twisted. Let's vow not to do that when we die and just have a normal burial so our kids can visit us with the memories of when we were alive. I mean who is going to visit that mausoleum once we are all gone? That's the trouble with graves and mausoleums; no one visits you generations later. Why go through so much effort for an elaborate grave, mausoleum or whatever?”

  Mary was growing impatient, “Daren?”

  “What, it's true! And I don't know about everyone else, but I'm in the mood for some more wine.” Mary watched in silence as her fiancé finished off his 2nd glass of wine before going up to the bar for his 3rd. “You want anything else, Babe?”

  Mary shook her head, no. Daren had promised her to cut down on his drinking. When they were first dating, Daren was a heavy drinker and nearly lost Mary with his fits of anger and near-violent behavior. He admitted that he could do without the booze in his life, but wasn't about to jump on the wagon. As he saw it, there was no reason not to have a beer or some wine during a social occasion. But a 3rd glass of wine was pushing it in Mary's eyes. He did recently lose his father, so she wasn't going to say anything, especially in front of his family.

  Daren returned with his 3rd glass of wine and spoke with excitement. “I looked at the bottle. It says Charles Shaw 2002. That's 3 years old, now!”

  “It's still good wine”, said Eric.

  Daren sat back with his already quarter-finished glass of Charles Shaw Shiraz from 2002. It was apparent that he was loosening up and under the influence of a heavy wine buzz. “Yeah, but it would be so cool if we could find something 25, 30, or even 50 years ago. Wouldn't that be worth trying?”

  Now Daren's brother, Anthony, was well educated on the finer things in life and did much reading on the culinary arts and matters pertaining to wine. He saw the suggestion as a cue to showcase his knowledge, “You know, I recently read an article that reported some of the greatest wine connoisseurs who compared those upscale wines to some of the more modest ones we get at places like Trader Joe's. They all came to the conclusion that the wines from those places were just as good, if not, better. It isn't a terrible thing to enjoy something simple.”

  Daren finished his glass of Shiraz. Mary patted him on the back and silently whispered, “I think you've had enough.”

  She was right, but Daren continued the conversation and proceeded to drive in his point about aged wines. “Oh, I agree with you and totally believe that these wines are just as good as the upscale stuff out there. But I'm not talking I need an expensive wine. I'm talking about drinking aged wine. Consider this: Suppose I go up to the bar and purchase some bottle from 1901. Obviously we are all going to be very intrigued and eager to open it and try it. Imagine the thrill of drinking something made not from the turn of this century, but the turn of the previous century.”

  Anthony and Eric agreed that it would be quite an experienc
e, and the three brothers began to seriously discuss how to go about obtaining old wines. At least Mary's fiancé had steered the conversation from viewing preserved bodies behind glass to a more appropriate dinner conversation. By then the soup and salad had arrived, but Mary found it difficult to eat the cherry tomatoes.

  * * *

  “So are you and your brothers going to start collecting wine and drinking it?” It was Saturday evening. Daren and Mary were driving back to their residences in Flagstaff, Arizona. The funeral was held in Phoenix and Mary couldn't wait to get home. She spent the past 3 days at her fiancé's, mother's house and under sad circumstances, seriously needing alone time to decompress and prepare for work on Monday.

  Daren replied, “I don't know; we just want to try an aged bottle of wine. I never had that before, have you?”

  “No; I have no desire to drink something over 50 years old.”

  “Well why not?”

  Mary was in no mood to explain how senseless it was to drink antique wine that may very well be bad. But she was concerned about her fiancé possibly relapsing into a bad habit of heavy drinking. “I just don't, Daren! And you know I hope you're careful. I don't mind you having a glass of wine with your brothers, but I know you can get carried away.”

  Daren realized Mary's concern, and held his fiancé's hand. “I won't start drinking again; I promise you.” He kissed her hand which seemed to tone down the mood for the remainder of the ride home. And that was the only thing Mary had witnessed of Daren and his sudden interest with aged wine, which profoundly affected him some time later.

  * * *

  Nearly 8 weeks passed since the funeral. After doing some research and meeting various wine experts, Daren and his brothers managed to obtain a very promising bottle from 1861!

  There are a few things, among others, that are important to know when scouting out old wines. The first thing that one needs to be aware is that purchasing old wines has a risk factor. What are the chances that buying something from the 1950s or 1930s is found to be bad once it is opened and tried? Contrary to popular belief; simple, old wines are not in the millions of dollars, but generally run around $100 per bottle. However, it would remain disappointing to purchase such a wine, only to discover that it has turned into vinegar.

  One needs to be aware of something called ulage, which is the amount of air between the cork and the wine in the bottle neck. The more ulage, the more chance the wine has oxidized and gone bad.

  It just so happened that the bottle of wine that Daren and his two brothers obtained for $120, dated 1861, did not have an excessive amount of ulage and was rated to be a safe risk. And so the three brothers sat in Daren's backyard around the resin table one early, Saturday evening with the bottle from 1861. They simply admired what they had in their possession.

  Daren appeared to be expanding on his point made weeks ago while the three initially decided to seek out an old wine. “Do you realize this wine was made before we were even born; before our parents were born; before our grandparents were even born? I mean the vineyard that this wine came from may very well not even be around anymore. The people who made this wine are long gone.”

  Anthony added some insight from his collection of knowledge of fine wines. “I've heard that drinking an old wine is like making love to an old lady. It can be done; you just need some imagination and an open mind.”

  Eric brought everyone back down to Earth. “What are we waiting for? Crack that bottle open and let's drink up!”

  Daren opened the bottle of wine as his brother suggested and showed everyone that the cork had not been deteriorated in over a century while the wine was sealed in the bottle. As mentioned before, this was a very good sign that the wine had not been oxidized and gone bad. He then poured half a glass for everyone. All three brothers sat looking at the wine in their glasses and smelling the aroma.

  Eric dove right in by taking a good sip. “Mmmmm… Not bad! Not bad at all!

  Daren looked at Anthony and repeated the Life cereal commercial, indicating it was safe to try. “He likes it; hey Mikey!”

  The other two both took their sips. Daren immediately set the glass down with tongue sticking out, “What are you talking about? It's so strong and pungent!”

  Anthony came to the rescue, “Now, now: you're rushing into it. When making love to an old lady you need to be slow and gradual. Go get us a block of cheese so we can clear our pallets. This wine is fine; you're just not drinking it right.”

  Eric finished his glass by the time Daren left for the block of cheese and a knife. He was ready for more, but realized he should let his two brothers catch up, first. Upon Daren's return, the three brothers ate some cheese and proceeded to slowly drink the wine while appreciating the flavors that had been preserved for nearly 150 years. Of course one shouldn't put a bottle of wine like this in the refrigerator to drink more next week! So the three finished the bottle while engaging in discussions of what happened in the year 1861 or around that time. They were quite impressed with themselves for enjoying something from so long ago. They cracked open a second a bottle of wine, no more than two years old, and continued to drink with a never ending quest for the ultimate wine buzz. But anyone who truly loves wine understands that such a desire of vineyard-induced euphoria is paradoxical in nature. Too much of a buzz is not a good thing and can ruin the pleasant, short-lived experience. Two bottles were plenty. And beside that point, people needed to drive home. It's always a good thing to consider other motorists and other people's loved ones!

  After some time, the intoxicating buzz wore off as the now groggy bothers engaged in more sobering conversation, initiated by Daren. “Well, are we going tomorrow?”

  “To the mausoleum with Mom?” asked Anthony.

  “We did, after all, promise her. I guess she wants to make sure they entombed Dad properly.” Daren wanted to appear mindful of doing the right thing, but secretly dreaded going alone with his mother. The mausoleum disturbed him and he imagined the effect to be reduced if surrounded by more company. With tomorrow being Sunday, and the fact that the Eric and Anthony lived near Daren, there was no excuse not to go. It would only require about a 2-hour drive down to Phoenix.

  * * *

  Daren hadn't been to the family mausoleum since he was young boy, and was a bit apprehensive as going there would most surely guarantee a look at family members who had been deceased for a quarter-of-a-century or more. His youngest brother, Eric, seemed to enjoy the mausoleum as if it was entertainment. While approaching the building the following morning, he kept whispering to Daren, “Dude, you gotta see it! We gotta take out Grandpa's crypt and look at his opened eye! It'll freak you out!”

  Daren was doing his best to maintain composure. He wasn't exactly easy with viewing his deceased father now encapsulated in a glass tank of formaldehyde, and he wanted to tell his brother to shut up. But at the same time, Mother could not be agitated in this delicate moment. Such is one of the challenges we need to experience in life.

  The door was opened, and immediately the overpowering odor of formaldehyde could be smelled. Mother looked horrified, “Oh my God! Did one of the tanks break open? Is it Dad?” She immediately entered the building and could see that the chemical seeped through the bottom of the east wall, which was evidenced by the stains on the floor. “Did they break a tank when entombing your father?” Mother's eyes became glassy.

  Which deceased relative was most important to the family at that moment? Was it the uncles, or Grandpa? Not likely as the family was mourning the recent loss of the father. They immediately opened his crypt and were relieved that he was still intact.

  “I bet it's the next drawer over! I bet it's Grandpa!” Eric appeared ecstatic at the notion that his grandfather's crypt needed to be opened in which he could see the eye peering at everyone.

  “Relax Eric!” Daren sternly looked at his brother and motioned his face at their mother who had eyes filled with tears. It was apparent that removable, glass tanks were not the idea
l resting place for loved ones to visit while mourning. Seeing a loved one go to the grave, in a sense, brings closure to surviving family members, allowing them to begin the mourning process. But father wasn't buried, and mother was, once again, looking at his lifeless body floating in a tank of formaldehyde. Such a moment needed to be experienced carefully, and Mother needed time to visit her husband before closing the crypt and checking the others for cracked glass.

  After some time, Father's crypt was closed and the family began the investigation of which tank was cracked and leaking formaldehyde.

  “Let's open Grandpa's first! I know it's his!” Sensing Eric's increasing impatience, it was mutually decided to open the suggested crypt. And just as expected, his glass tank had been cracked at the bottom near the right hand, allowing all the formaldehyde to leak out. And yes, his opened eye peered at those who stood over his glass tank. The chemical mess was nothing short of a disaster, and the cemetery would have much explaining to do. To make matters worse, Grandpa's hand was beginning to decompose. In fact, it looked like it had been decomposing for some time. This suggested the possibility that the glass tank had cracked long before the cemetery put Father's body in the crypt.

  Mother was outraged. “You mean to tell me they knew about this and ignored it?”

  There's a thing about drinking aged wine. For some, it may trigger a morbid lust for days long past. If only it was possible to drink deeply the past and savor every memory. Perhaps Daren's experience of drinking aged wine stirred a curiosity while he observed some of the decomposing matter mixed with fluid near the crack of the tank leak out on his hand. It was preserved life, encased in glass and very possible to stir the essence of memories forgotten a quarter of a century ago. Daren licked the fluid from his hands which brought morbid numbness to his lips and tongue. It also yielded both his brothers to outburst in nauseous disbelief!