Curious For The Trees

Image: Meta AI

After a long day playing in the field, my cousins and I decided to rush back home as the evening sky was gradually swallowing up the sun. We found our way into the streets, although exhausted, with parched throats and aching feet; we were determined to get home before my parents. Our clothes were not just drenched in dirt; they gave us a typical appearance of abandoned homeless kids.

As we walked past buildings and stalls, if not anything, our excitement over the day lingered still. We had no idea what awaited us, but we knew we would outsmart my parents that day; after all, it wasn't our first time going out to soil ourselves in the specks of dirt of the field.

Some five minutes walking distance to our house, tall palm trees reached for the sky in the quiet field. Mango trees and pines took over the remaining spaces. The trees had been there — decades before we were born — so it wasn't a new sight to behold.

But that day was different. Well, for my cousin of twelve who suddenly paused to stare long at the trees, it was more different.

I didn't know what was more appealing, the trees or the beautiful fruits greeting us from afar. Or was there something else in my cousin's twelve-year-old mind?

Sure he wasn't thinking of climbing up any of the trees, was he? Although I was the only girl among them, plus, the only girl in our mini estate often seen with the opposite gender, playing and kicking every single ball; and although my parents often wondered why the adolescent stage wasn't yet telling on my child-like behaviour, I didn't think climbing a tree for the first time was a good idea. At least not that evening.

I was about to clock thirteen. And for every girl child my age, there should be an intense curiosity about the next phase, right? Or maybe some strange behaviours and swinging moods as sponsored by the hormones of adolescence. But mine was different.

I cast a knowing glance at my second cousin, Phil, before returning the same glance to Dan.

“What are you planning to do, Dan?”

He smiled broadly, a type that could make you suspect something. Then immediately, it hit my mind. Dan was going to climb the tree. He wanted to show just how skilled he was.

But had he climbed a tree before?

Dan was quick to clear my curiosity.

“Yes, sister. There's nothing to be scared of. I can climb even the tallest palm tree. We just can't let these beautiful mangoes go.”

And so we dared him. Phil and myself. We wanted to see if he could climb a tree like he claimed.

To our greatest surprise, Dan didn't struggle much to get up there. His eyes were quick to scout for some ripe mangoes, which he plucked out and threw to the ground. Excitedly, we ran after them, picking and stuffing them in Phil's shirt.

Still giggling, I was reaching for more mangoes when we heard a loud sound like a bomb. Our eyes ran in that direction; Dan lay on the floor, motionless, whimpering in pain.

My heart jumped out of my chest and flew back in immediately. We rushed to Dan, who was crying out loud. He was in pain.

“Dan! Dan! Are you alright?”

“How did you fall? Where did you hit?”

I was sure even Dan had no answer to our endless questions.

Somehow, we helped him up, dusting his hair and helping him with his slippers. We supported him on both sides as he limped his way to the house, which, thankfully, was not far away.

That evening, my parents did not arrive home on time. And that evening, I became a mother, as I attempted all the techniques I could think of — helping him to the bathroom to have his bath, leading him to the bed and having his fractured leg pressed with a piece of cloth in hot water. After applying some balm, I served him dinner and afterwards, left him to sleep.

We thought — no, we prayed everything turned out right. But as we heard my parents’ cheerful voices filling up the living room, we doubted if our wishes or prayers went up to God.

And of course, we acted right. As planned, we responded to my parents' jokes at us. And when asked about Dan, our heart skipped a beat instantly. But thank God for Phil who was quick to the rescue.

“He... he is asleep.” he stammered.

I looked at my parents and smiled. A feigned smile, I was sure, had made them smell something.

Like a chilled cup of water going down a parched throat, I felt relieved when they dismissed us. But that did not last. Dan had now woken up but couldn't step a foot on the floor. His right leg was swollen as well and his face had some bruises.

At that point, nothing was left in my brain. My body, in a robotic move, led me mechanically towards the living room where my parents were chatting happily. Phil followed from behind. And as if rehearsed, we stood like surrendered cats before my parents, our heads buried on the floor before them.

They became more curious. My mother's aura told me she was becoming scared.

“Mom... we have a confession to make,” I spoke first. And I forced the words out of my mouth.

It was after everything that it dawned on me we had left behind the same mangoes that led to my cousin's fall.

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