Chapter III: Weeping Cherry Tree

I want to go outside for a little bit. Is that okay? Jaci signed to her grandmother.

The older woman looked up from her knitting to interpret what she was saying. “Of course, that’s fine. When you get back in, we’ll probably be in bed so you just do what you have to do, okay?”

Jaci nodded, grabbing an older looking quilt from off the couch.

“Oh, you should sit under the weeping cherry tree,” her grandfather spoke up. “I used to sit under there at night and just think. When I met your grandmother, I proposed to her under that tree.”

Jaci smiled, signing to her grandmother.

“She said that it’s so sweet,” MeMa translated.

Pa nodded, grinning bashfully. “Oh, it was.”

Jaci ducked out of the room as they continued their reminiscing, snagging her backpack as she left the house. Swinging it over her shoulder, she made her way up the grassy knob to the top were the willow cherry tree stood. She ducked beneath the hanging branches, entering a smaller, empty space where cherry blossoms had fallen to the ground.

She walked over to the other side of the trunk where the low hanging branches were parted more than the others, peering out over the hill. She spread the quilt out the ground and sat down, taking in a deep breath of the night air.

And then it hit her. A wave of her childhood. The smoke from a bonfire had drifted up through the valley, taking her back through time to a time when everything was right. When her mother still loved her and her father, when she could talk, when she could play the piano, when her father payed attention to the family. When they would sit out on the patio and listen to the song of the cicadas. When everything was right.

She brought herself back to reality by blinking rapidly for a couple seconds. To opened her backpack and pulled out her notebook and pen. For a few seconds, she dug around inside it until she found what she was looking for. She turned the small flashlight on and held it in her mouth while she she hastily wrote in her notebook.

MeMa and Pa are nice. They’re a sweeter older couple. I should come here next summer. I met Thomas today. He didn’t introduce himself but MeMa did. She told me about his younger brother Mike who’s like me. Mute. She said that he has his own version of sign language and I really can’t wait to meet the little guy. I’m supposed to go hang out with THomas tomorrow and I hope he tells me a little more about himself and Mike. MeMa didn’t mention their parents. I wonder what they’re like.

Jaci looked up from the notebook, the sudden change from looking at the lit page to the black night left her seeing colors.

She chewed on the end of her pen, thinking.

Thomas is nice. She continued. He’s easy to talk too and as I mentioned before, doesn’t care that I can’t talk. I hope we can be friends.

I don’t know why I was so upset at Dad today. Sometimes I wish I could tell him all the things that fly around in my head but I know it’d just hurt him. The one person I really wish I could give a peace of my mind too is Mom. I’m going to stop here because

I know if I don’t, I won’t be able to.

Jaci switched the light off and blindly put away her notebook and pen as her eyes adjusted. She zipped her backpack up and pushed over to the side as she stretched out on her back. Looking up at the stars, she sighed, the only thing she could hear was the quiet singing of the cicadas. She closed her eyes, letting out a big breath. Her body seemed to deflate from all the air and she felt weightless.

Perfect.

She wished she could stay like that for forever but her lungs soon ached from lack of oxygen. She sat up, taking a deep breath once more.

The moon shone bright over the valley, reflecting the lost rays of the sun. Tiny chirps from the crickets was like a lullaby to the sleeping animals that lived in the valley, gently rocking them to sleep. The sun would rise again, they had no fear that it wouldn’t, and it would shine again. That’s how the universe worked. The earth would turn, the sun would go down and it would rise again. That’s how Jaci felt. Her life was like the rotation of the earth. For a little bit, she’d be in the sunshine and sometimes she’d be in the dark, relying on only the moon to watch over her. Right now, she felt like she was lost in the dark, the only thing she could really depend on to be there for her was the moon.

She stood up, swung her backpack over her shoulder, and grabbed the quilt. She stepped out from under the hanging limbs and took two steps forward, standing very still at the top of the hill, right at the edge before the descent.

The valley looked so peaceful, quietly sleeping. She heard a single bark of a dog, echoing through the hollow air. Jaci smiled. This is how life was to be. The sun would rise in the morning and in her life. She’d get out of the dark. She’d get better.

******

Jaci was up before the sun rose. She wasn’t used to sleeping on somebody else’s bed and she missed the sound of the city outside her window. As she climbed out of bed, she silently cursed the rooster who, for some stupid reason, was crowing his head off before 6:30.

“Good morning, sweetie,” MeMa greeted her, stirring eggs in the skillet. “Did you sleep well?”

Kind of, she signed, rubbing her eyes. Why does that rooster crow this early in the morning?

MeMa laughed. “Your grandfather should answer that one.”

Can you tell him the question? Jaci asked after a second.

“Oh, Jaci, I’m sorry,” MeMa apologized, realising.

She shook her head. No big deal.

Her grandmother relayed the message to Pa by hollering into the living room. She heard the rustling of a newspaper and then the soft thuds of his footsteps before she saw him.

He still looked half asleep, something she found odd since he’d been getting up this early his whole life. He poured himself a cup of coffee before sitting down at the table. Taking a sip, he set the mug down and folded his hands in front of him. Jaci slid in a chair at the other side of the table, waiting for an answer.

“That ole rooster is blind. He’s always been blind since he was just a small chick,” her grandfather began. “He’s always makin’ a ruckus at all hours of the night and early morning because the stupid thing can’t tell the difference between day and night.”

Jaci smiled and her grandfather smiled back.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked.

She gave him a thumbs up and stood up, walking over to MeMa.

I’m going to go get dressed, she signed. MeMa nodded, mixing some pancake batter.

As Jaci climbed the stairs, she pulled her phone out of her pajamas pocket. Turning the screen on, she saw she had a new text message from Drew.

Hey, I was thinking about you. I miss you.

Jaci stopped at the top of the stairs, running a hand through her to move it out of her face. She thought for a moment to reply.

I miss you too. How’s it been without me?

Drew was really the only person back in the city that could relate to her. He knew sign language ever since he was younger because his grandmother was deaf. He was rather close to his grandmother and then when she died a couple years back, he’d met Jaci. At that time, she could still talk but when the accident happened, he was the one who taught her sign language and always made an effort to talk to her atleast once a day.

Her phone buzzed, vibrating in her hand. She glanced down at it, a smile spreading across her face as she saw the response.

Boring. How’s life in the country?

Nice. I may have made a new friend. She replied.

Oooh! Who is it?

His name is Thomas. He has a younger brother like me.

Jaci jogged to her room and tossed her phone on the bed as she dug through her suitcase for basketball shorts and a loose T-shirt. For some reason, Drew’s texts always got her excited and more feeling like herself. She smiled, quickly thanking God for such a good friend.

Her phone vibrated and she practically lunged for the bed, fingers wrapping around it like it was her last hold on sanity.

So it’s probably easier to communicate with him?

Kind of. I don’t think Mike’s that old and I don’t think he’s learned sign language yet. Thomas doesn’t know sign language but it’s easier to hand him a piece of paper with my words on it. He’s not all awkward like some are. She sent.

She glanced at the messy bed and then at the door before quickly pulling the rumpled covers up to the pillow.

Jaci shut the door behind her and tucked her phone into her pocket as she ran down the stairs. Once she arrived in the kitchen, a few pancakes were sitting in the middle of the table, scrambled eggs and orange juice next to it.

The sound of sizzling bacon made her smile even wider. Bacon was her favorite.

“Jaci, the bacon will be ready soon so you have a few minutes before breakfast so you can do whatever. I’ll call you when it’s ready,” MeMa said, flipping a strip of bacon.

She made a “Mhmm” sound before leaning back on her heels, taking in a deep breath.

Bacon, eggs, pancakes, it was what made a good home cooked breakfast rememberable.

Someone knocked on the door, not a normal knock, a hurried knock as if something was urgent.

Jaci answered it, half expecting it to be some wearied person being chased by a bear. Instead, Thomas stood there, grey sweat shirt on, hood over his head, and hands stuck in the front pocket. He grinned at her, making her wonder what was up his sleeve.

“You need to see this,” he said, grabbing her wrist. He dragged her off the porch before she could even register what was happening. Finding her footing, she ran to keep up. He made his way up the grassy knob and under the weeping cherry tree where he came to a stop, peering out over the valley.

On the other side of the valley was another hill, higher than the one they were standing on. As the sun began to peak above the opposite hill, every drop of dew shone like a tiny star lost in the never ending field of green. Each one reflecting the amazing shine of the sun, making the hill look like it was glowing.

Jaci’s breath caught in her throat as she watched the sun rise, yawning from it’s peaceful night. Each ray of light seemed to reflect back to the sun, making the sky shine like a million lights.

The sun was rising on the earth and on her life.

The moon is a loyal companion.

It never leaves. It’s always there, watching, steadfast, knowing us in our light and dark moments, changing forever just as we do. Every day it’s a different version of itself. Sometimes weak and wan, sometimes strong and full of light. The moon understands what it means to be human.

Uncertain. Alone. Cratered by imperfections. 

― Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me