Timber
Copyright © 2010 by Heather Payer-Smith
Lizzy sat on the porch spraying her water-soaked sandals with pine-scented disinfectant, glancing up only when Seth made a hoot or holler. He was stooped under a dead oak tree in the back yard – one that had been there since Lizzy could remember. When Lizzy was younger, she and her brother would play in that tree from sun up to sun down – no adventure was too great for the old oak. Now it stood barren of life, of love, rotting in the summer heat - dead to everyone but Seth.
Lizzy brought the sole of her shoe to her nose and inhaled.
“Disgusting,” she cringed, wrinkling her nose as her eyes watered. She dropped the sandal back onto the splintered deck boards, grabbed the aerosol can, aimed and doused the leather once again.
“ATCHA!” she heard Seth bellow at his imaginary foe. He stood with one arm high in the air while the other held a stick extended outward, stuck in the non-existent bowels of his unworthy adversary.
“Come on, Lizzy. You said you’d play pirates with me,” Seth groaned, bored of his invisible crew.
Lizzy rolled her eyes.
Seth, forgetting his plea for a playmate, found another large stick and thrust it into a hole in the tree trunk, making sure it was good and stuck.
“Aya…. ha…. hooo,” he grunted as he swung his ‘sword’, locking blades with yet another phantom pirate.
Lizzy sighed, turning her attention to her brother. He took great care to raise his stick and deliver each blow as if he were a skilled swordsman. His thick torso twisted as he hacked and slashed his opponent. Pivot, turn – fall… Seth went down, but not because his enemy got the best of him. He got to his knees and heaved himself off the ground, brushing dirt from his sleeves and mulch from his hair. He sniffed, wiping mucus across his face.
Lizzy grimaced, but she was used to Seth’s mucus. He always had a runny nose.
Seth planted his feet and, as if he never missed a beat, charged at the tree and attacked the stick lodged in its trunk. The stick cracked – another blow and it broke, but only half way – one, two, three more hits. Seth lowered his stick and delivered his final blow to disarm the tree. The broken stick catapulted from the hole, flying high into the air toward Lizzy.
“Watch it!” she yelled, raising her arm to shield her face from debris. “You’re going to hurt someone if you don’t settle down.”
“Sorry,” Seth breathed, smiling. “But I got him. Did you see?”
Seth’s bulky fingers clutched his weapon. He stood proud, tucking his chin into his chest. His tongue escaped his mouth, licking his lips like a mad-man.
“That’s gross, Seth.”
He aimed his tongue in Lizzy’s direction and blew, creating a slobber storm as saliva shot out of his mouth.
“Nice, Seth. Now you have drool all over you.” Lizzy tried to hide her smile as she spritzed her shoes one last time.
“You said you’d play with me, Lizzy. You never play with me anymore.”
Lizzy avoided her brother’s eyes.
“I don’t have a stick, I can’t play pirates.”
“I will get you a sword,” he offered, patting his legs as he shifted from side to side. He looked at her with such longing, such innocence – she hated to disappoint him.
“Please,” he whispered, lips trembling.
Lizzy felt her arms go weak as she held her breath.
“Okay. If you can find me a stick, I will play, but you have to promise to be careful this time.”
“Oh, I will. I’ll be careful.” He clapped his hands, bringing them to his face.
Drool dripped on his shirt.
“You go find a stick. I’m going to get you a drool rag so I don’t get wet, too.”
Seth inhaled, croaking and coughing as he laughed.
“Okay, it wasn’t that funny. I’ll be right back.”
The screen slammed behind Lizzy as she entered the kitchen. Seth’s laugher softened as he trotted toward the tree.
“Drool rags, drool rags…” Lizzy mumbled as she sorted through drawers and cupboards. She passed the refrigerator, knocking a photo of her and Seth from the magnet that held it in place. It was from her 16th birthday. They had gone to an amusement park, but had to leave early because Seth was afraid to go on the big rides and was too big to ride the kiddy rides.
She opened another cupboard. Bottles of pills cascaded from a shelf.
“Damn!” Lizzy chastised herself, trying to catch Seth’s medicine. “Stupid pills. Stupid rags…”
She took several deep breaths.
“It’s not his fault. It’s not his fault,” she chanted, closing her eyes. “It’s not his fault.”
“Lizzy, what are you doing?” her mother asked, entering the kitchen with a basket of socks in her arms.
“Nothing. I’m looking for a drool rag.”
“It’s a handkerchief, Lizzy. Stop calling it a drool rag.” Her mother winced when she spoke.
“Whatever,” Lizzy breathed, gathering the bottles, placing them back on the shelf, “do we have any clean ones?”
“In the laundry room,” her mother answered, dropping the basket of socks on the table before back-tracking toward the laundry room. “Where is Seth, anyway?”
“Outside.”
Her mother froze, turning slowly to face Lizzy.
“I asked you to keep an eye on him,” she hissed.
“He’s fine. I just came in to get a drool, uh, handkerchief.”
“ Your sense of responsibility is astounding, young lady.”
“Mom! Chill out. He’s not a baby.”
Her mother fumed, pursing her lips, trying to spit out a swell of retaliations and excuses for Lizzy’s comment, too flustered to put words together.
“He’s playing by the tree,” Lizzy huffed, cutting off anything her mother may have thought to say. “I’m going back out in just a...”
The sound of wood creaking, cracking, BREAKING interrupted her. Both Lizzy and her mother tensed.
Thump, thump, THUD. The sound of Seth’s deep cries made Lizzy’s face go numb.
“Oh, god!” her mother shrieked.
Lizzy burst through the screen door, tripping over her sandals, somersaulting into the grass. Like an acrobat tumbling on a matt, she sprang up. Her knee popped but she ignored the pain as she shuffled to Seth’s crooked body lying below the dead oak tree.
“Ouchy, ouchy…” Seth whimpered between fits of hyperventilation.
He cradled his arm against his chest. Acid boiled in Lizzy’s stomach as she looked at the bone pressing against the skin of his forearm. It did not break through but threatened to at the slightest wrong move.
“Hold still, Seth! You’ll be okay! MOM!!!”
Their mother was already upon them, carrying the ice bucket from the freezer and a towel. She refused to look at Lizzy, but Lizzy could feel the daggers of her mother’s anger pricking against her skin.
“I’m going to help you sit up, Seth,” Lizzy offered, wiping an accumulation of snot from his nose.
“Don’t touch him!” her mother spat, swatting at Lizzy’s hands. “Don’t you ever touch him!”
Lizzy scooted back, watching her mother wrap the ice-filled towel around Seth’s arm. His face was bruised and swollen but, despite the pain searing through his body, Seth was calm.
He gazed into the tree as his mother pressed an ice pack against his chin. She inspected his legs and back, relieved to find only scratches.
“Get up, Seth, we have to go see Dr. Muller.”
Lizzy watched her mother struggle to lift Seth from the ground. He was too big for her mother to handle by herself.
“Here,” Lizzy stood up, bracing herself under Seth’s good arm. She heaved and together they lifted Seth from the ground.
“I’ve got him,” her mother insisted, pushing Lizzy back.
Anger bubbled in Lizzy’s chest. “This wasn’t my fault!”
Her mother turned her head and stared at Lizzy with a blank expression.
“Honestly, Lizzy… sometimes I wonder which of you two is really the delayed child.”
Lizzy did not move. She watched her mother hobble Seth to the car.
“He’s not a child…” Lizzy whispered as the car pulled out of the driveway and sped away to Dr. Muller’s office.
Lizzy turned to the tree. Propped at the base was Seth’s stick, crooked and knobby, but strong. Lying in pieces where Seth’s body had fallen was another stick, frail, splintered and broken – crushed by the weight of her brother.
Lizzy looked up at the barren branches of the tree – void of life, of love… of adventures from days long forgotten.
Lizzy sat on the porch spraying her water-soaked sandals with pine-scented disinfectant, glancing up only when Seth made a hoot or holler. He was stooped under a dead oak tree in the back yard – one that had been there since Lizzy could remember. When Lizzy was younger, she and her brother would play in that tree from sun up to sun down – no adventure was too great for the old oak. Now it stood barren of life, of love, rotting in the summer heat - dead to everyone but Seth.
Lizzy brought the sole of her shoe to her nose and inhaled.
“Disgusting,” she cringed, wrinkling her nose as her eyes watered. She dropped the sandal back onto the splintered deck boards, grabbed the aerosol can, aimed and doused the leather once again.
“ATCHA!” she heard Seth bellow at his imaginary foe. He stood with one arm high in the air while the other held a stick extended outward, stuck in the non-existent bowels of his unworthy adversary.
“Come on, Lizzy. You said you’d play pirates with me,” Seth groaned, bored of his invisible crew.
Lizzy rolled her eyes.
Seth, forgetting his plea for a playmate, found another large stick and thrust it into a hole in the tree trunk, making sure it was good and stuck.
“Aya…. ha…. hooo,” he grunted as he swung his ‘sword’, locking blades with yet another phantom pirate.
Lizzy sighed, turning her attention to her brother. He took great care to raise his stick and deliver each blow as if he were a skilled swordsman. His thick torso twisted as he hacked and slashed his opponent. Pivot, turn – fall… Seth went down, but not because his enemy got the best of him. He got to his knees and heaved himself off the ground, brushing dirt from his sleeves and mulch from his hair. He sniffed, wiping mucus across his face.
Lizzy grimaced, but she was used to Seth’s mucus. He always had a runny nose.
Seth planted his feet and, as if he never missed a beat, charged at the tree and attacked the stick lodged in its trunk. The stick cracked – another blow and it broke, but only half way – one, two, three more hits. Seth lowered his stick and delivered his final blow to disarm the tree. The broken stick catapulted from the hole, flying high into the air toward Lizzy.
“Watch it!” she yelled, raising her arm to shield her face from debris. “You’re going to hurt someone if you don’t settle down.”
“Sorry,” Seth breathed, smiling. “But I got him. Did you see?”
Seth’s bulky fingers clutched his weapon. He stood proud, tucking his chin into his chest. His tongue escaped his mouth, licking his lips like a mad-man.
“That’s gross, Seth.”
He aimed his tongue in Lizzy’s direction and blew, creating a slobber storm as saliva shot out of his mouth.
“Nice, Seth. Now you have drool all over you.” Lizzy tried to hide her smile as she spritzed her shoes one last time.
“You said you’d play with me, Lizzy. You never play with me anymore.”
Lizzy avoided her brother’s eyes.
“I don’t have a stick, I can’t play pirates.”
“I will get you a sword,” he offered, patting his legs as he shifted from side to side. He looked at her with such longing, such innocence – she hated to disappoint him.
“Please,” he whispered, lips trembling.
Lizzy felt her arms go weak as she held her breath.
“Okay. If you can find me a stick, I will play, but you have to promise to be careful this time.”
“Oh, I will. I’ll be careful.” He clapped his hands, bringing them to his face.
Drool dripped on his shirt.
“You go find a stick. I’m going to get you a drool rag so I don’t get wet, too.”
Seth inhaled, croaking and coughing as he laughed.
“Okay, it wasn’t that funny. I’ll be right back.”
The screen slammed behind Lizzy as she entered the kitchen. Seth’s laugher softened as he trotted toward the tree.
“Drool rags, drool rags…” Lizzy mumbled as she sorted through drawers and cupboards. She passed the refrigerator, knocking a photo of her and Seth from the magnet that held it in place. It was from her 16th birthday. They had gone to an amusement park, but had to leave early because Seth was afraid to go on the big rides and was too big to ride the kiddy rides.
She opened another cupboard. Bottles of pills cascaded from a shelf.
“Damn!” Lizzy chastised herself, trying to catch Seth’s medicine. “Stupid pills. Stupid rags…”
She took several deep breaths.
“It’s not his fault. It’s not his fault,” she chanted, closing her eyes. “It’s not his fault.”
“Lizzy, what are you doing?” her mother asked, entering the kitchen with a basket of socks in her arms.
“Nothing. I’m looking for a drool rag.”
“It’s a handkerchief, Lizzy. Stop calling it a drool rag.” Her mother winced when she spoke.
“Whatever,” Lizzy breathed, gathering the bottles, placing them back on the shelf, “do we have any clean ones?”
“In the laundry room,” her mother answered, dropping the basket of socks on the table before back-tracking toward the laundry room. “Where is Seth, anyway?”
“Outside.”
Her mother froze, turning slowly to face Lizzy.
“I asked you to keep an eye on him,” she hissed.
“He’s fine. I just came in to get a drool, uh, handkerchief.”
“ Your sense of responsibility is astounding, young lady.”
“Mom! Chill out. He’s not a baby.”
Her mother fumed, pursing her lips, trying to spit out a swell of retaliations and excuses for Lizzy’s comment, too flustered to put words together.
“He’s playing by the tree,” Lizzy huffed, cutting off anything her mother may have thought to say. “I’m going back out in just a...”
The sound of wood creaking, cracking, BREAKING interrupted her. Both Lizzy and her mother tensed.
Thump, thump, THUD. The sound of Seth’s deep cries made Lizzy’s face go numb.
“Oh, god!” her mother shrieked.
Lizzy burst through the screen door, tripping over her sandals, somersaulting into the grass. Like an acrobat tumbling on a matt, she sprang up. Her knee popped but she ignored the pain as she shuffled to Seth’s crooked body lying below the dead oak tree.
“Ouchy, ouchy…” Seth whimpered between fits of hyperventilation.
He cradled his arm against his chest. Acid boiled in Lizzy’s stomach as she looked at the bone pressing against the skin of his forearm. It did not break through but threatened to at the slightest wrong move.
“Hold still, Seth! You’ll be okay! MOM!!!”
Their mother was already upon them, carrying the ice bucket from the freezer and a towel. She refused to look at Lizzy, but Lizzy could feel the daggers of her mother’s anger pricking against her skin.
“I’m going to help you sit up, Seth,” Lizzy offered, wiping an accumulation of snot from his nose.
“Don’t touch him!” her mother spat, swatting at Lizzy’s hands. “Don’t you ever touch him!”
Lizzy scooted back, watching her mother wrap the ice-filled towel around Seth’s arm. His face was bruised and swollen but, despite the pain searing through his body, Seth was calm.
He gazed into the tree as his mother pressed an ice pack against his chin. She inspected his legs and back, relieved to find only scratches.
“Get up, Seth, we have to go see Dr. Muller.”
Lizzy watched her mother struggle to lift Seth from the ground. He was too big for her mother to handle by herself.
“Here,” Lizzy stood up, bracing herself under Seth’s good arm. She heaved and together they lifted Seth from the ground.
“I’ve got him,” her mother insisted, pushing Lizzy back.
Anger bubbled in Lizzy’s chest. “This wasn’t my fault!”
Her mother turned her head and stared at Lizzy with a blank expression.
“Honestly, Lizzy… sometimes I wonder which of you two is really the delayed child.”
Lizzy did not move. She watched her mother hobble Seth to the car.
“He’s not a child…” Lizzy whispered as the car pulled out of the driveway and sped away to Dr. Muller’s office.
Lizzy turned to the tree. Propped at the base was Seth’s stick, crooked and knobby, but strong. Lying in pieces where Seth’s body had fallen was another stick, frail, splintered and broken – crushed by the weight of her brother.
Lizzy looked up at the barren branches of the tree – void of life, of love… of adventures from days long forgotten.
