Short Story: The Treehouse

The Treehouse

         “I honestly don't know how many times I have to tell you Jack; I am not having another year of you letting our son down”.

         “Well what do you want me to do?” Jack spoke with growing impatience and anger. It wasn't as if he was indifferent or apathetic to her cause. He wanted the same thing. He was just fed up of having the same argument over and over and getting nowhere. Is this what it all becomes? That sweet scent and inseparable moments turned to ashes, still clinging but untenable, like the sole of an old pair of shoes. 

         “Look I know I promised him this and I don’t want to go back on my word, I know it won’t set a good- “

         “You’re too right it won’t set a good example Jack. If this was the first time I think I’d understand but it’s becoming ridiculous,” his wife built on and beat Jack’s tone and, as usual, took control of the conversation. “You said you’d take him to football, you said you’d take him to the cinema the other week. Empty promises every time.”

         Jack went to speak but was halted in his tracks, it was nowhere near over.

         “I don’t even want to hear no anymore, you said you’d build Nick the treehouse when he was 5, he’s now 8 and you’re not even close. I just don’t know why you make false promises, every year all he ever says is ‘Mummy Daddy is the treehouse ready is the treehouse ready’”

         “Yes, but Lucy what you don't understand and what I’m trying to tell you is that I’ve been getting a lot more work and now with my meetings- “

         “Oh screw the meetings Jack. Don’t get me wrong I’m grateful. I really appreciate how they’ve helped you, I’m the first to admit you looked a state the day you went in there and you’re a new man, but it’s 3 times a week! And now you’ve been there for 8 months you’re now a sponsor to 2 people and you meet with them and your sponsor once a week then between that you’re working! Where is the time for us?”

         “You think I don’t know that I pack my day with meetings and the steps?” Jack spoke a bit softer now, the rage was dying inside him as he began to realisewhat Lucy’s true issue was. “You have to try and understand that I need to do this, and I will need to do it for the rest of my life, for you and Nick. I can’t go backwards you know that as well as anyone. I’m sorry it takes up so much time, but we can still find so much for us.”

         “Oh, I know,” Lucy sighed, leaning back on the kitchen counter relaxing after finally exorcising the days’ frustrations out of her system. “I’ve just had a bad day. I don’t want to take it out on you,” she paused a second to remember the original argument and then stood up slightly, “but I do want you to do this for him Jack and I really mean it this time. You will go and get that wood and you will start to build that treehouse so help me god, I’m not having another year of neglecting it.”

         Jack let out a deep breath, the worst was over. “Yes yes I will. I can make time for this Lucy I promise.”

         They both took a well-deserved pause and Lucy gave a slight smile before saying, “hey you know what I heard today?”

         “What’s that honey?”

         “Our Song”

         They both after a few seconds of silence jumped in at the same time with the chorus of Two of Us, dancing together and laughing as they did so and then, feeling a whole lot better already, went together into the front room to watch whatever Saturday night TV had to offer.

         It had been a month and no progress. The arguments carried on, each one longer and more vicious than the last. The more Jack went to meetings, the more Lucy thought he was an absent husband and father. The more Lucy got onto Jack about the treehouse, the more Jack thought there was something else going on, a tickling sensation under his eyelids. And so, the happy endings and resolves after the arguments became few and far between. Jack had had enough of it. After taking Nick into school one morning he decided to make a start on the tree, so as to calm the storm and for the most part, to make his boy happier. He had no more work until next week so why not. He got the wood and the nails and laid them in their back garden, measuring out the tree and how big it could be. He stopped a moment to admire the garden and specifically the tree. Beautiful oak but as he examined closely he noticed a solitary crack or two. He contemplated whether it would tolerate for a moment but shrugged it off. Although they were close to the foundation, the oak was fairly young and formidably strong. He started sawing and grinned to himself, thinking of how happy his son would be. 

         A few hours passed, and he had measured everything, accounting for all the bows in the wood and where they would go in the tree. Deciding that was enough for the day he went inside just as his wife was coming in. Lucy’s nature was off and they both froze for a solitary moment, analyzing, calculating. She broke the silence;

         “I thought you were meant to be finishing off that job today?”

         “No, I told you I finished that Friday, I’ve got no work this week. What are you doing home I thought you had a consultation today?” Jack spoke slowly and waited, all the while not taking his eyes off of her. His eyelids perspired and tickled. It had been a bad month and his mind swam the depths immediately. He ignored the niggles, and forced his way to the surface, waiting to inhale that deep gasp as he waited for her answer. He was somewhere between a smile and a growl.

         Lucy sensed the tension and shifted her weight to lean on the side and as she did this, erased the shock off her face instantly. 

         “Yes at 11 darling,” she spoke as breezily as she could, letting out a laugh and tilting her head back as she did so. “I mean I know you’re not a technology whiz kid but if you look at your phone on the home screen it should say the time! You never seem to know it do you? Maybe I should get you a watch for your birthday next time,” she spoke casually and at ease, pondering.

         Jack wondered at the possibility of a lie briefly but soon bought it. It was 2 after all and consultations certainly don't run that long. He relaxed and immediately the thought of telling her his news rose over his devilish mind, extinguishing completely the doubts. He let out a smile.

         “Why don’t you go out to the garden Luce. I reckon you’ll like what you see.”

         As Jack led Lucy through the kitchen she let out a long breath quietly to herself truly relaxing and, following him out through the sliding glass door towards the garden, she let out a genuine gasp of surprise at what she saw. 

         “Well I don’t believe it,” she exclaimed getting closer and examining the wood more. “You’ve actually made a start to it, Nicks going to be so happy!”

         “I know. I’ve really thought it through and it will certainly be big enough for the three of us on summer nights, even four of us maybe one day. Cards, stargazing you name it Luce,” Jack rambled excitedly. 

         Lucy smiled but did not reply. Walking back into the house she simply asked Jack what he wanted for dinner.

         “With your cooking I’ll be content with whatever” he shouted after her. 

         He decided that was enough for the day and began gathering his tools. As he went to go back inside he glanced at the tree’s foundation and frowned at the cracks again.

         Another month. Jack had begun drinking again. The stress of the relationship was spreading him thin, she was on at him so much about anything and everything, and he had grown jealous. It was bitter and time-consuming. He didn't even have time to go to meetings anymore. So at night, when he would be polishing wood or sanding it down up in his shed, he’d have some whiskey, and it would make him feel better. If only for a little while. No one knew, and Jack was extremely afraid and knew he was breaking every rule in his life by relapsing, but he couldn't handle himself. In addition to the arguments Jack had sensed something else in Lucy. There was a glow about her which seemed different, new and bright. It also seemed as if she was always trying to put distance in between them, like she avoided there ever more fleeting heartfelt moments. A graze of a hand on another’s as they reached for their morning coffee; a moment where Nick would shine with various and humorous idioms that the fountains of youth afford us all; a funny repost from a member of the neighboring couple heard in unison over the garden fence. Each time they would make eye contact and she would avert before one of them smiled. Jack thought it must be him losing his mind with the drink, but the jealousy began gnawing away, nibbling at his brain, picking apart the unconditional love and putting it back together with gone off pritstick. As for his parenting, Jack couldn't even bring himself to be around Nick at nighttime, afraid of his short temper after he’d been at the bottle and similarly his incapability to read his sons bedtime story without constantly blinking and slurring his words. He just needed the treehouse done and finished. Then he could stop, then he could begin to be what he wanted to be again; he could turn away from the darkness that was engulfing him day by day.

         So, he worked. And worked. He worked morning, noon and night for weeks.

         Another month passed with spring turning to summer and Jack was done, he had finally finished it. He had decorated the interior with cosy rugs, numerous games and his main feature: a momentous skylight. He waited with unprecedented excitement for Lucy and Nick to get home. Hours passed, and he worried. Finally, the door opened, and Lucy entered alone bringing the last of the crisp air in with her. Jack got up and began to speak before Lucy cut him off.

         “It’s over”

         Jack was arrested with a gormless face and a helpless mind.

         “I’ve not been happy, and god knows how you have.” Her voice trembled. Something that had taken so long to write and rewrite in her mind would have to be ruthlessly cut to survive this final eye contact, this helpless man who she would have to destroy. “I’ve had enough, and I think its run its course.”

She drooped her eyes as she saw through the window the treehouse and thought of their son.

         “You can of course still see Nick and you’ll always be his Dad but I want a divorce. I’ll drop the papers off in a few days then we can have a proper talk but for now I’m staying with my Mum, I have to get back.”

         Jack began to study her face in desperation and stopped because he knew. He had known all along and had turned to drink rather than turning to her. Could he get her back? Probably not. He felt his insides cripple, pangs shooting up in places he had never even known had existed before. She turned away and was out of the door before he could even speak. For the first time he was alone. No Lucy, no Nick, he had ruined everything.

He went up to the shed got his whiskey and sat in the garden. As the last of a blood red sky sunk to a dark blue hour, Jack looked at the treehouse. And as he did so, it began to creak and lean forwards. Jack was perplexed when he looked closer and saw that the cracks had nearly tripled and had grown much more severe since he last looked at them. He watched in astonishment as the tree and the treehouse, the beautiful oak and all his hard work, leant effortlessly like Pisa. Then just like that, a snap and it was all over, a pile of wood in a lonely garden. Jack stood in silence until the pitch black completely blank, both in expression and thought. Slowly a creeping look of lunacy came from his eyelids to overtake his pupils until they oscillated at a lizard’s pace. Dazed, he went to fetch oil and a match, along with one of his many bottles from one of his many hiding places. He shook like a madman until every last drop left the canister had emptied. He dropped the match and watched the flames envelop their fuel smiling. He took a gulp, laughed and began to sing to himself and the bottle. Two of us riding nowhere, spending someone’s hard earned pay. Lucy’s face snuck into Jacks head, but he booted it out and began screaming. YOU AND ME BURNING MATCHES, LIFTING LATCHES ON OUR WAY BACK HOME. Lucy with another man searing into his brain like a sharp knife. WE’RE GOING HOME. The fire mesmerising and reflecting perfectly his lunacyDA DA DO WE’RE GOING HOME. He drank heavily this time and sang louder, deleting it all completely. Whiskey and fire were his companions now, for tonight and whatever else there remained.