"What a beautiful tree! Walter, look." Beth pointed to a seven-foot-tall white artificial tree with multi-colored lights.
"I hate white trees. Especially fake white trees."
"You paid $150 for the fake tree we bought here two years ago. You love that tree."
"It's not white sweetie." he debated in his bull-headed way. "And I don't love it. I think we’re going to get a real tree this year.” He stood tall breathing in an imaginary aroma. “A lush pine-smelling eight-footer."
Beth turned to him, arms crossed, anticipating the imminent battle of dealing with her husband's stubborn nature.
"Oh no, we're not spending any more money on a new tree. The one we have in the basement is just fine."
"Nah, I want a real tree. I want to wake up on Christmas morning and smell the outdoors, the Alps, the Rocky Mountains--all those big hills."
Beth turned away with a huff.
"I am not dealing with the mess of a real tree," she insisted. "Falling pine needles and spilt water all over the place? Uh, uh.”
She already knew it would be pointless to continue her argument because of the faraway blank stare on her husband's face. At that very moment, Walter was skiing down the Matterhorn with someone named Jean Philippe amid the fresh scent of pine trees. She could only hope one of those eight-footers was directly in his path—he could use a good reality whack.
A week later, Walter was getting ready to drive over to Pine Acres, a local purveyor of Xmas trees, and was excited about it. Beth had already made it quite clear that she wanted nothing to do with shopping for his “dream tree” and that was fine with him. 'A few fallen needles and some spilt water, big deal,' he thought to himself. He could handle that. As he reached for the car keys he looked to see if his wife had perhaps emerged from her mood.
“Do you think we need a tree stand sweetie?”
Beth’s facial expression was sufficient.
On his way down the street, Walter noticed all the holiday decorations on his neighbor’s houses. He stopped at the corner of the street.
“Now that’s a tree!” he said out loud. On the front lawn of the corner house stood a brightly decorated Blue Spruce. He knew an elderly couple lived there but in all the years he could remember this was the first time they had ever decorated that tree. Boy, it looked good.
As he turned the corner, the station wagon hit something—big enough for Walter to bang the side of his head against the door. From the sound of crunching metal under the car, it wasn’t hard to imagine what had just happened.
“Mommy!” a little boy shouted. “My bike!”
Walter got out of the car to see the boy’s mother storming out of her house.
“I’m sorry kid,” Walter offered, looking under the car. “I didn’t see your bike. What’s it doing in the street anyway?”
The boys’ angry mother rushed towards him. “I just bought that bike for him now look what you did!”
“Whoa, lady” Walter leaned back. “Back off! I really didn’t see it. Here,” taking his wallet out of his back pocket “is fifty-dollars enough to replace it?”
The woman stuck her nose in the air, grabbed the cash and shoved it inside her top. “You’re just lucky my old man isn’t home or it might have cost you more than just your money, mister.”
“Yeah, okay,” Walter smirked. “You have a nice day too.” He took his time, moseying back to his car to let her know he wasn’t afraid of her, her imaginary old man or starring in an episode of COPS.
Back on the road, he arrived at Pine Acres to find it crawling with people and their kids fighting over which tree to buy.
“Daddy, Daddy! Get this one!” one kid shouted as the tree he was holding fell on top of him.
Walter steered his way through the rambunctious crowd to an area towards the back. There, under a hand-painted sign that read NORTHERN BLUE SPRUCE, he spotted his tree. It was beautiful—just like the luscious eight-footer he had imagined. He shoved his face between the branches and inhaled the fresh aroma.
“Get your face out of the tree,” said the worker.
Walter jumped back causing pine needles to stick to his hair, “I’m buying this tree,” pulling out his wallet. “How much is it?”
“100 dollars.”
Walter pulled out his cash and counted sixty-five. “Here, I’ll write you a check for the difference,” handing the money to the young man.
“Cash only mister,” pointing his finger to a sign that read NO CHECKS.
Perturbed, Walter envisioned the face of the angry mother with the bike and silently cursed her before reaching for his ATM card, “Hold this tree. I’ll be right back.”
The worker handed Walter back his sixty-five dollars. “Can’t hold trees mister. First come, first served.”
Walter began to get agitated and flustered. “Well then take my cash as a down-payment. I want this tree.”
The young man pointed his finger towards another sign that read NO DOWN PAYMENTS ACCEPTED.
Walter impatiently looked around at the increasing number of tree shoppers headed toward the area of his Northern Blue Spruce.
“Oh look Marvin, what a beautiful tree!” a woman’s voice caught his attention. “That’s the one I want.” She was pointing right at Walter’s tree.
“Oh no you can’t buy this one,” Walter told her. “I already bought it. Go away.” Waving them to move on. She looked suspiciously at Walter before taking hold of her husband’s arm and turning away.
Walter shoved his wallet back into his pant pocket and with both arms outstretched grabbed the Northern Blue Spruce and picked it up. Boy, was it heavy! He put it back down and tried to figure out a way to get it to his car. He thought “if I could just get it to the station wagon, I can tie it to the roof and have Beth bring me the rest of the cash.” He set it down on the ground, picked it up by the stump and began pulling it along towards the parking lot.
“Hey! Put that back!” a worker yelled.
Walter picked up his pace and yelled back. “That’s okay, thank you, I got it!”
Just as he caught site of the station wagon, a strong yank backwards made him lose his footing. He looked up from the gravel to see two men hoisting up his Northern Blue Spruce. Walter jumped up and with the help of his flowing adrenaline, he thrust his arms between the branches and matched the formidable force of the two men. For a minute there he thought he had them and if it weren’t for the distracting sounds of the approaching police sirens—he would have.
“So, how much has this dream tree cost us so far?” Beth taunted as she and Walter left the police station.
“Don’t ask,” was his reply.
After they got home and much to Beth’s chagrin, Walter headed down to the basement and came up carrying their artificial tree. Ten minutes later, Walter walked back into the kitchen and put on his jacket.
"Where are you going now?" Beth asked.
"To get our tree."
"You just brought it up from the basement.”
"I told you we’re getting a real tree this year, get with the program sweetie."
"What did you do with our fake tree?”
"I gave it to the old couple down the street." grabbing the car keys, "Oh and I promised them all our ornaments and lights too so we'll have to pick up some new ones."
"Why the hell did you do that?" crossing her arms yet again.
"Because that’s what they wanted for the Blue Spruce on their front lawn.”
It was now Beth who stood with a blank stare. As Walter began to leave he stopped and turned to his wife.
"Do we have an axe sweetie?"
______________________________________________
Copyright 2010 by Janet Cipolli. All Rights Reserved.
No comments:
Post a Comment