The Perfect Tree
Patricia Joseph
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 Mary Lindsley
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“I’m going to need you to repeat that,” I said, after a long pause.
He smiled at me, not a warm smile, but a smile of the sort that smug, superior men reserve for dogs and women.
“You heard me, Ellie,” he said, patting my hand.
I had to use all my will power not to snatch my hand away and slap that smirk off his face.
“No, Robert,” I replied, slowly and incredibly calmly, under the circumstances. “I couldn’t have heard you correctly because what I heard was you breaking up with me. And we’re all set to leave for my parent’s house in an hour, so I know that can’t be what I heard.” I explained it to him like I would a small child. Somewhere communication was breaking down, and slow, deliberate words were the solution.
“Ellie, we both knew it wasn’t working a long time ago,” he stood to leave.
My mouth fell open. “I’m sorry. When did we both realize this?” I demanded. “Was it when we said we were going to move in together January 1st? Should that have clued me in that it wasn’t working?”
“Don’t get hysterical.”
He just had to say that. I was exerting every bit of energy I possessed into staying calm, knowing he didn’t like scenes. If there’s one thing that is sure to send me over the edge, it’s being called hysterical when I am most certainly not hysterical. When I threw the lacquered vase full of roses from my coffee table at his retreating figure, which crashed into the wall above his head and only succeeded in getting him and my carpet slightly wet, now that was hysterical.
At least I showed him the difference.
My hands were shaking and I felt the blood coursing through me as I reached to dial the phone. It rang and rang in my ear.
“Come on, Jules, pick up,” I muttered into the phone. I felt slightly dizzy, my breath coming shallower than usual, and the shaking was getting worse. Just as I was about to slam down the phone and start searching for something else to throw across the room, I heard a voice on the other end of the line.
“Hello?”
I exhaled heavily at the sound of Jules’s voice on the other end. Cheery Christmas tunes played in the background. I could almost smell the heavenly scent of Jules’s famous spice cookies. She baked them every year.
“Jules? It’s Ellie.”
Her tone was still light, not yet picking up on the distress in my own voice. “Hey, girl. How’s it going?”
“He dumped me, Jules.”
There was a long pause while Jules processed what I told her. “I’ll be right over.”
***
Not only was she over in less than half an hour, but she brought cookies and wine with her. I went for the wine first.
“Tell me what happened,” Jules said from the kitchen as she collected plates for the cookies and glasses for the wine.
I waited until my glass was full and I had taken a rather large gulp before I answered her. “He called me today, said he had something to talk to me about. Then he came over and said it wasn’t working for him.” My words came out in a rushed jumble. I took another gulp of wine to slow them down.
Jules snorted. “Those were his words? It’s not working for me?”
I nodded. “Direct quote. So then he said he wouldn’t be coming to my parents’ for Christmas. I threw a vase at him, and he left.”
A smile quirked at the corner of her mouth. “You threw a vase at him?” She was clearly trying not to laugh.
I looked down at the carpet, trying to look contrite. “Just a little one.”
Jules started laughing, and when Jules laughs, she laughs with her whole body. She rocked back and forth, slapping her knees and shaking her head. Watching her made me laugh, which felt good, even better than finishing my first glass of wine in less than five minutes. The laughter ended as quickly as it began, though, and I leaned my head back against the couch cushion and closed my eyes.
Jules put a hand on top of mine. “You didn’t give up the lease on this place yet, did you?”
“No. Thank goodness for small favors.” I sighed, “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. My parents are expecting to meet Robert, and he won’t be there. And I have to buy a tree.”
Jules wrinkled her brow at the apparent non sequitur. “What?”
“I’m in charge of bringing the tree to my parent’s house tonight. We’re decorating.”
“You waited until today to buy a Christmas tree. There won’t be many left.”
I stood up abruptly, dislodging Jules from her perch on the edge of the couch. “I know there won’t be many left!” I threw my hands in the air. “Mr. Perfect Robert knows someone with a tree farm. ‘They’re the best trees in the world,’ he said. ‘We’ll go pick one out together,’ he said. ‘It will be perfect,’ he said!” I picked up the small china dish that decorated my side table and flung it at the far wall. It shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, all burrowing themselves into my carpet, where they would surely lie in wait and embed themselves in my heel some unsuspecting morning.
I didn’t even bother to go get the vacuum to clean up my mess. I paced back and forth in my living room, draining my second glass of wine.
“Ellie, sit down, please.” Jules grabbed my arm and tried to steer me back towards the couch.
I pulled out of her grasp. “I can’t sit down. I have to go buy the best damn Christmas tree in the city!”
I knew at this point that I was irrationally angry, but I wanted that tree. The perfect one that had been promised to me this Christmas. I didn’t need anyone to get it for me. Certainly not Mr. Perfect Robert. I was going to get it myself. I grabbed my keys off the hall by the door and reached for the doorknob.
Jules grabbed me by the shoulders and stopped me dead in my tracks. “We’ll go get you a tree, but first you need to put on your coat.” I glanced at the window. It was gray and windy outside, and I suddenly remembered the weather forecast predicting snow later today.
“Fine,” I said, shrugging into my heavy wool coat.
“And I’m driving,” she said, pulling her own keys out of her purse.
“Fine,” I said again, but this time I smiled.
***
I rode in silence in Jules’s car as she navigated her way across town to the biggest tree lot in the city. I reached up and flipped down the tiny illuminated mirror in the visor, and then immediately snapped it shut again. The face reflected in the mirror was not a pretty sight. Shocked brown eyes stared back at me out of an unnaturally pale face. My already wild brown curls frizzled around my head like a bad imitation of a halo. Looking down, I noticed for the first time that I was still in my “lounge-wear,” faded jeans and an old, lumpy gray sweater. Needless to say, I was not looking my best.
Jules pulled the car into a nearly deserted parking lot next to Malone’s Tree Emporium. I could see without even leaving that car that the pickings were thin. From my vantage point in the passenger’s seat of Jules’s CRV, I could see three sad Charlie Brown trees and five tiny table-toppers. Nothing like the fourteen-foot Noble Fir I was imagining in a place of honor in my parent’s high-ceilinged living room.
Jules turned off the car and rotated in her seat to face me. “Ready?” she asked, a reassuring smile on her face. I didn’t feel especially reassured, but I appreciated the effort nonetheless.
Jules followed me through the lot as I inspected tree after tree. There was nothing over ten feet, and even those were sadly lacking in branches. I have seen some unfortunate trees in my time, but these were half-dead, barely staying upright while they grasped for one last shot at holiday glory before being tossed in the wood chipper.
When a small, dark gentleman passed by me, I stopped him with a hand. He was wearing what was unmistakably an elf costume, complete with curly shoes and false ears. It also happened to be at least two sizes too small, and his paunch hung out over the edge of the pants, bursting at the tiny gold buttons of the shirt. He was grinning broadly and even gave a little bow when I stopped him.
“A Very Merry Christmas to you, ma’am!” he said in a thick Italian accent. “I am Mr. Malone. How may I be of service to you?”
I overlooked the ma’am comment, though I was easily young enough to be his daughter, in favor of finding my tree. “I need something bigger than this,” I said indicating the lines of tiny, branchless trees, “with more branches.” I wagged my hands up and down to illustrate the fullness of my tree. “It should be perfectly cone shaped with no noticeable holes, and at least fourteen feet tall. Noble Fir, if you have one.”
Mr. Malone looked taken aback, and then he burst out laughing, the great bulk of his belly heaving and swaying. In that moment, I finally understood what ‘a bowl full of jelly’ looks like. It isn’t a pretty sight.
Scowling, I waited until he subsided into fits of giggles like hiccups. “Did I say something funny?”
He coughed took a long shuddering breath, pulling himself back to standing. “I am sorry, ma’am. I did not mean to mock. It is just that I look around and I think to myself, she wants the best tree in the lot, and I remember we sold all the best trees long ago. Nothing is left but the small ones. I think to myself, where does she think I hide this magnificent tree? I may be an elf, but I am not so magical as that!”
I looked around for something to throw but found nothing smaller than a three-foot tree heavily covered with layers of that fake plastic snow. Since I didn’t want to have to pay for such a pathetic excuse for a tree, I left it there. Mr. Malone must have seen my violent intentions towards his trees written on my face because he quickly sobered, looking at me with wary eyes.
“Now, now ma’am, I have no such tree here. Business this year was very good,” he allowed himself a happy, little smile. “I do not have one, but I believe there is a tree lot outside of town, perhaps a mile or so east, that may have something left. It is not so well located as my little business.” He nodded sagely, clearly impressed with his own location choice. Throwing his hands out to the side, he added, “Also, there is no elf!” He waited for me to look as shocked as he clearly felt. When I kept scowling, he hurried on. “It is a place called Finn’s Christmas Wonderland, or some such nonsense. You go there.”
Before I knew what was happening, the little elf was herding us towards the exit to the tree lot and back to the car.
“You go there, ma’am,” he repeated, more confidently now that his trees were safe. “And have a Merry Christmas!” he yelled at our retreating backs.
I was about to step into the car when I stopped and looked at the little man, hovering in front of the entrance to his lot.
“I am not a ma’am!” I shouted back.
Mr. Malone looked puzzled as Jules revved her engine and reversed out of the lot. I could see him mouthing my words to himself, as though trying to interpret their mysterious meaning.
***
I felt a surge of hope as we pulled up to the tree lot outside of town. As promised, there were many more trees on display, even some that I would have called pretty. From afar, I read the sign - Finn’s Christmas Wonderland – The Perfect Tree Makes the Perfect Holiday. I literally began jumping up and down, clapping my hands together in my excitement. A family with two small children crossed to the other side of the parking lot to avoid me, but I didn’t care. Let them all think me crazy, as long as I got my tree.
I strode into the artificial forest with new purpose. Jules, as supportive as ever, let me wander to my heart’s content. When I went through the first row of trees and didn’t see my tree, I didn’t let it bother me. When I went through the second row without seeing my tree, I shrugged it off and kept looking. By the time I looked through the third and forth rows, I was beginning to feel a bit panicked. These trees were nice, much nicer than Mr. Malone’s, but they weren’t perfect. The sign promised perfect.
I grabbed the arm of the first employee I saw. Mr. Malone was right; he was definitely not dressed as an elf. He was tall and broad shouldered, most likely the result of hauling trees around for the past month, with skin like dusted cocoa and a smoothly shaved head. He was undeniably attractive, though all I saw was the work boots, thick denim jacket, and name tag.
I leaned closer to him to read the tag. He smelled of pine with the slight musky undertone that men get when they are physically active. “Excuse me, Derek?”
He nodded and smiled, revealing perfect, straight teeth. “How may I help you, miss?”
The ‘miss’ brought me up short. I could have kissed him for not calling me ‘ma’am’ and making me feel about fifty years older than my own thirty. “I’m looking for a tree. You know, the perfect tree to make the perfect holiday.” I said, pointing at the still visible sign. “I want a fourteen-foot Noble Fir, cone shape, no holes, lots of branches.”
Derek thought for a moment, rubbing his chin as he spoke, “I’m not sure we have any fourteen-foot Nobles left.”
I slumped my shoulders in defeat. No Noble, no Christmas. It was becoming as simple as that for me.
“Oh, wait,” he said, snapping his fingers. “We might have one left.”
I felt a bolt of adrenaline, and I was shaking with anticipation as I waited for him to continue.
“Follow me,” he said, and he began walking towards the back end of the lot.
We followed while Derek led us to a tall, full tree against the back fence.
Jules grabbed my hand and squeezed, “It’s beautiful, Ellie.”
Derek beamed at us, clearly pleased that he had been able to find me such a wonderful tree only the day before Christmas Eve. No small feat, to be sure.
“No,” I said, startling them both. Jules actually jumped a bit at my brusque tone. “No, this isn’t it.”
Derek frowned in puzzlement. “Fourteen-foot Noble Fir,” he confirmed by reading the tree’s tag. “Just what you asked for.”
“It may be a fourteen-foot Noble Fir,” I said, conceding the point, “but it isn’t my tree.”
Jules pulled me to the side. Derek began studying the tree, more to give us privacy than because it was particularly interesting to him. In fact, with all the trees a person must see working at a tree lot, I bet it was downright boring.
“Ellie,” Jules began, infusing all possible affection and patience into her tone, “this tree is really very nice. You aren’t going to find a better tree, not in the next couple of hours. As it is, you are already going to be late to your parent’s house. Take this tree. Everyone will love it.”
“Jules, I can’t take this tree,” I pointed out, in all reasonableness.
“Why not?”
I sighed. Some people need everything explained to them. “It’s crooked.”
Jules jerked back and looked at the tree. “What?”
I walked over and leaned in alignment with the tree. “It is clearly crooked. Do you think I can go to my parent’s house sans Robert with a crooked tree? No, no, no. I said I would get the perfect tree, and I will.”