She Was Like The Tree

"So what makes you a good candidate for this job?" asked the interviewer named Paul. I inhaled and paused. All I could think of was how hideous and lazy his name was for a man so bland with his creepy smile. Paul's office smelled bad too. It was the horrible smell of someone's mystery leftovers microwaved in a crappy oven. So Paul looks bad and his whole essence reeks. I know I have misplaced anger, I am aware of this. It has hindered my growth in every way emotionally and subconsciously. I understand Paul hasn't done anything to warrant such a cruel and judgemental conception but for now, I think of a response. "I am an honest person which comes quite perfectly since I will be handling money. I am also a great communicator and team player. Also, I find I am good at anything if I am taught it well." I held back a smirk. I truly disliked this man. Maybe it was my intuition, I didn't hate everyone but those I had for reasons quite unknown, I believed deserved it. Paul smiled, "Very good answer." The interview was thankfully over. I shook his hand and left slowly making sure to take a look around on my way out. I grew up in this town my whole life and had never been here to its famous clock museum. I wondered if anyone at all came. Only one lady seemed to be there and she was working at the front desk. Paul had disappeared and I had some questions, but not for him. I quietly stood in front of the lady who was sneakily texting. I cleared my throat when a minute had passed and she hadn't noticed me. She looked up. "Shit, sorry!" she exclaimed and pulled out wireless earbuds which were hidden by her luscious brown curly hair. "No worries. I had a couple of questions." I say and look around. "How much do you get paid. For real." She smiles a bit. "Enough to do nothing all day. About 10 an hour after they take out all the taxes or whatever." I wonder if it's worth the walk to sit here six hours a day for ten dollars an hour. "Thanks," I say and turn. It was something to keep in mind. "Are you an artist or something?" she asks gesturing to my splattered jacket and handbag. "Yeah, something like that. A lot of my art is actually quite illegal," I say fidgeting with my red hat before putting it on. "That's awesome!" her face lit up. Then Skeletor returned, " I see you've met Lacey," he said with an odd expression. "I hope you both won't cause me any trouble." He laughed a bit uncomfortably for all of us. "Oh, so I guess I'll see you next week then, I can come in whenever you need me to." I perk up and demand a favorable response with my body language without breaking eye contact. "Uh, yes. You'll hear from me," he closes his creepy smile into a straight line. "See you around." I wave to Lacey as I walk out.

"How did the interview go?" My mother was on top of me like her vegetables on white rice at dinner. I ignored her and went straight upstairs. She knew better than to bother me once I was in my room. Ever since I was a kid I threw terrible tantrums and used my words as weapons. Many therapy sessions later and a few stays in the mental hospitals, I had finally set healthy boundaries with my parents. I jotted down happily all of my malevolent thoughts from the day in a small black notebook. The pages were almost filled. I took delight in knowing I hadn't hurt anything or anyone since a frightful eve one year ago after Christmas. I skipped to dinner feeling free of my violent tendencies and even spoke to my parents. "I met a girl today. She's quite beautiful." I looked up to see my parents smiling at me. "That's perfect! Honey!" my mother nudged my father as he looked up from his plate. "It's nice to hear you're making friends again," he said. We didn't say much after that. My parents were just happy I wasn't setting fires again. I thought. They're probably scared shitless. They sat there at the table looking like little dolls. Not so perfect in complexion, but they sat up straight or slouched and were more like ventriloquist dummies the more I observed. I could see who pulled the strings too. Their lives revolved around this big dark house. They worked, cleaned, spent money on making everything perfect. Yet they were oblivious. They were caught up in their heads. I wonder what they would do if the house was on fire. Would they sit there and not notice until someone screamed. That person being me. Being born with an ill-tempered and violent mind wasn't easy. I was born with this angry reflex that reacted poorly to discomfort. If I wasn't in control I was uncomfortable and then in a split second, angry. The first thought I ever had was how much I hated living. I remembered the feeling at birth along with all of the painful cold. A terrible disgust shivered through my body. On my way upstairs I took sixty dollars from my father's wallet. He would notice it was gone too late and by then he should hope I took it to buy makeup at the mall. Instead, I take it to the furthest store from my house to buy lighter fluid and paint. I stash my bags in the overgrowth under my old trampoline corrupting the yard. I had many ideas as to what I would burn. I fall asleep at night wondering why the people I had seen at the store today seemed so sad. Were their hearts broken by some miserable and unattentive lovers? I wonder if they were dealing with addictions or their own violent tendencies. I knew mine was troubling enough for my parents. I thought hard about the lady's face I had studied before leaving my new job. She was perfectly unaware of the world around her. She had a dull presence even with her attractive brown eyes and dimples. I wondered how she must've felt texting so quickly and oblivious to me. I would paint a masterpiece. It would be her face Id see as I painted. She could be my muse for this piece. I also wondered how long she would like me until she found out I was truly crazy.

Weeks passed at the job in my 'ghost city town'. I started to love Lacey. She was authentic and uncaring with the prettiest scent of mint and tea tree. She wore a lot of green and somehow this also appealed to me. She noticed my aggressive tendencies, especially with my words, but she always laughed and told me I was a riot. Her parents were dead, she lived with her aunt, and her life seemed to be unvaried ever since middle school. She had friends she barely knew and a boyfriend who was always disappearing. I wanted to sweep her away from the monotony and mesh our lives together. One day I was painting a tree well into the forest behind her house when she snuck up on me. "AAAGGGHHHHHHHH!" she screamed. I didn't move a muscle. I instead turned around slowly and kissed her on the lips. She was the one startled now. It lasted for five seconds. She blushed and laughed and wiped off the kiss. "What are you a brick house?" she smiled. I winked and turned back around to paint. I wasn't one to cling. "Let's run away!" I say. "Yeah. . right!" She rolled her eyes. "Our whole lives are here. We'd find everything we were running from wherever we'd go. It's just a cruel tease," she said flopping down on a tire. "How do you know? Have you run away properly?" I asked her. "Many times," she said. "Not properly then." I wasn't about to argue with her so I flew back at once and proclaimed my masterpiece. "Whoa. How did you even get up that far?" She asked when she noticed there was red paint to the tips of the leaves on top of the bloody red tree. "Splatter paint, jumping, the iron will to get it up there," I said. "It's amazing." I turned to her. "Now for the fun part." I half expected her to protest or say something about forest fires. She said nothing as I squeezed lighter fluid all around the tree on the circle I had made out of dried sticks. I lit the circle and we watched as the flames danced around the tree. Unharming and beautiful with little smoke to suffocate its leaves, the tree stood amidst the fire. Once I was bored with its beauty, I opted for its destruction. I sprayed a line through the middle of my masterpiece watching the flames quickly climb to the top. Then I sprayed all the leaves and jumped when they burst into flames. I turned, forgetting someone was there with me. Lacey with her wide eyes looked on. Her face took in the warmth of the fire and she glowed. I half expected her to reach out and grab my hand. She didn't. We didn't watch the flames till twilight or gaze into each other's eyes. I didn't see the reflection of the trees burning glory mirrored in her eyes like hypnotized orbs. I only felt discomfort, and then anger as she turned to walk away. There was no praise or pictures, no reprimanding or aid to help the burning tree. Lacey lacked all of the normal responses of any caring human being and I had no control. Hadn't I manipulated things enough to cause some movement towards or away from her affections? She walked away. I followed quickly. I had the lighter fluid in hand and I squirted it on her. She turned with a look of disbelief as I struck the match. . .

"Paul." I heard my name.

"Paul, hey I'm heading out now." I was back in the stinky office at the clock museum. Lacey stood in the doorway in a green shirt. She always looked lovely but green was my favorite color on her. "Sure thing," I plastered on a wry smile. "Have a great day." I had just awoken from a deep daydream. As she left I drifted back away to finish it.

Lacey would never walk away from me again. She couldn't. She was like the tree. Once standing and now, not so much. I went home after a day to make sure the fires were completely ashes. My mother and father smelled me as I walked through the door. They threw me in the bath and quietly asked me questions which I answered short and to the point. My father made some calls, not to the police and my mother assured me they were taking care of it. I didn't cry. I wanted to because this wasn't real. None of this was real!

A knock at the door.

Lacey walked back into my office. This time I saw her entire silhouette as I came back to. "Hey Paul, I just wanted to say I won't be in tomorrow. My aunt is sick and she thinks it's a virus so I am going to help her out around the house. Just wanted to let you know." She was about to turn and go when I burst into tears. "Uh, are you alright?" she looked seriously freaked. I started laughing as I saw her face and her growing discomfort. I laughed harder. I imagined I had an awfully ugly laugh. She didn't stay to console me. She left quickly and didn't disturb me again as I drifted back into my world of red. Happy at last.