MY MOSTLY HAPPY LIFE: Autobiography of a Climbing Tree

Chapter 19 - Esther Falls in Love. But this time with a Man and not a Ferret

Esther and Merritt were to meet many more times in the park.

Winston played at their feet, and I stood at their side.

I have always been Esther and Meg's favorite tree; they have always been my favorite girls. When they read books, they sat in my arms and cushioned themselves against my trunk. As they grew older, they perched on my highest limbs, gazed out upon their city, and dreamed the dreams of youth.

They told me their secrets. They reported their news.

And so it was perfectly natural that when Esther was falling in love, I would be there to observe and to approve.

As their friendship grew, Esther learned that Merritt was a fireman, that he was fascinated by the art and science of fire investigation, and that he was studying to become a fire marshal. His goal, he told her, was to discover what caused fires - all fires - the accidental ones and the ones set by arsonists.

"Did you ever see the advertisements at the back of old comic books from our parents' era? From when they were kids?" he asked.

Esther lifted her arm, flexed her bicep, and in a braggadocio voice, announced, "I was a 97 pound weakling, and bullies kicked sand in my face. Then I bought the Charles Atlas body building system. Now I am a foe to my enemies, and a hero to my friends!"

Merritt laughed.

"Not that one. The advertisement under it that promised if I sent in two box tops and two bucks, I would get a book that taught me how to become a private eye."

Esther nodded, "Oh, yes. I remember that one, too."

"Well, it got me hooked. Ever since then, I've wanted to be a detective."

"But you became a fireman."

"I love being a fireman."

"Then why...?"

"Slaying fire breathing dragons is a young man's job."

Esther tilted her head to one side and studied his head.

"Am I correct in assuming that you aren't as old as your hair?"

"It turned this color when I was sixteen," he explained.

"How old are..."

"Thirty-six."

"Then you're still young."

Merritt shrugged. "Maybe now. But I won't always be."

"And you're thinking of a career change?"

"More like a shift. Instead of fighting fires, I would be investigating them."

Merritt was not Esther's only friend contemplating a career change. Meg Fitzgerald was also in a state of flux. After working for six years as creative director at an advertising agency, she had begun to feel under-utilized and bored. She groused continually about how much she hated her job.

"Do you have a terrible boss?" Esther asked.

"No. I adore him."

"How about your colleagues?"

"Fun. Imaginative. Irreverent."

"Then what?"

"It's the work itself. If I have to do another layout of another pretty man with a shaved chest and a fake tan reaching for another tube of underarm deodorant, I'll...I'll..."

She crossed her eyes, stuck out her tongue, and made a gagging noise.

Esther laughed. "Well, what do you want to do?"