The Roots Of The Apple

The Roots Of The Apple Tree

The busiest month of the year was finally coming to an end and October was soon to be upon me. With the chill of autumn by its side, the hallowing season would see out the last of the sticky humid atmosphere, and spatter the ground with a collage of fiery shaded leaves which make that satisfying crunch when stepped on. Autumn meant I could now safely wear my granny pants, as now no one could tell what I was wearing under layers and layers of knitted items, which were topped off with a bobble hat and winter coat. With tax forms, invoices, birth and marriage registrations to sort, file and alphabetise, it feels like I spent most of my life filing the mile stones of others rather than achieving my own, but this particular change in season was special, not only because it was possible to have a lunch break again after the big boom of baby births, but it meant that the first fruit from the Langton apple tree would soon be ripe for the picking. The apple tree wasn't like any other. It had the same attitude towards life as most of us Langton's, it had a tendency to be a little different and go against the grain of life. Eight years ago it decided to grow a dozen pears amongst the apples. My grandparents thought it was a cry for attention as that summer the family had gone away for 2 weeks to a wedding of distant relatives in Canada. In the summer months it would crave attention, it loved to be sung to, read stories and sat under to gaze at the stars on those warmer nights. The more love was given to the tree, the sweeter the apples would become in the autumn months.

It's a Langton tradition that when the magical fruit blossomed, my grandparents and I would make our annual stock pile of summerset apple cakes, which were given as presents at all manner of celebrations. The beautiful aroma of the enchanting apples, mixed spices and infused cinnamon tones was so sweetly strong, the scent would follow me all year round. And to be honest I was beginning to miss it. For the past four years the cakes were not made, no sweet scent followed me, and the apples would fall to the ground wastefully. Since they passed it felt like making the cakes was wrong, like putting your shoes on the wrong feet. Their presence was part of the recipe. This year marks the 5th year since my grandparents had passed away, I have no idea where the time has gone but the wound is still as fresh as the day they were summoned to the great beyond.

In the most bitter-sweet of ways, at age 16, the haven I spent so much time in as a child became mine due to my grandparents unexpected departure, not only did I get the house but also was left with the spring loaded spotted spaniel Jane. When they told me about their passing I remember going on a kind of auto pilot, listening but not really listening to what was being said. I remember that evening at 6, I went to their house to collect Jane and go to the local park for our walk. I got half way round, just before the old memorial bench and then it hit me. Like a left hook from Mike Tyson straight to the chest, the realisation that they had actually gone, it wasn't a dream or a cruel trick but they had actually gone. Falling to my knees on the cold, damp mossy ground, I sobbed so uncontrollably that I could no longer see through the rapids of tears rushing from my eyes. In that moment I had let go of Jane's lead, but was so inconsolable I didn't notice. The concept of time had completely been lost as I couldn't recall how long I had been hunched over drowning in tears, remembering all the times I should have called in or been more helpful or told them every day how much I loved them. Racking my brain analysing our last conversation and remembered how quickly I wanted to get off the phone with them because I was so engrossed in a film. Thinking to myself "the film was rubbish in the end and you put that crap higher up on your priority list than the people who loved you, your never getting them back, you have wasted so much time and you are the only one to blame." Spiralling further down a black hole of guilt, remorse and self-loathing, I couldn't stop myself slipping further, helplessly feeling it slowly consume me, that was until I heard a bubble gum pop. Like a sharp snap back to reality.

From this day forward, my life was never to be the same again, but how different I didn't realise. The day I got the news of my grandparent's death was also the day I had the displeasure of encountering the straight shooting siren Charlie Sharpe. The chance encounter seems to have caused a kind of time loop, a very painful and scaring sort of routine, in were every time I am having a hard time or stressful bout, she seems to come back time and time again. The first few encounters of Charlie were difficult to say the least. At the very beginning Charlie was that cloud that didn't have a silver lining, she just poured and poured, and only when I thought I was out of the splash zone, she would come back with thunder and lightning. I have to admit she has gotten more and more bearably as times gone on, but my god is she a hard pill to swallow. The day we met was an act of unfortunate fate, like the universe working in a weird and wonderful way, taking from me the only people who've ever loved me with one hand, and giving me this ice-cold shouldered drama queen with the other. In a strange way it felt like our paths were entwined like the roots of the apple tree, even before we knew one another. The universe was trying to make sure I would never be alone once they left. Of course I had Jane but sometimes, as I've come to learn, you need someone, an actual person to be there when times are tough.

Although our relationship didn't start out on the best of terms, not by a long shot. I remember the teenage tone nipped me like the freezing cold air of the evening.

"Hey, is this your dog? ..... Erm what's wrong with ya? ". I looked up, removing my hands from my face to see, snow white legs wrapped in fish net tights, despite the temperature plummeting, florescent darts of colour running through a side fringe which cover the high winged eyeliner on her pale, slightly freckled skin. Taken aback by the towering Doc Martin booted teen, I fell backwards onto my arse and with an exhale noticed Jane standing in front of me, wagging her tail, completely oblivious to the absence of her true owners. My arms swung wide open as Jane came uncoordinatedly bouncing back to me, every leg wanting to get to me first. In the same speed it took for her to come back, I felt a huge wave of guilt for letting her go and worst of all not even noticing, quickly followed by a tsunami of gratefulness that she came back. Knowing there was someone watching me I summoned some strength and found my feet just enough to drag myself to the bench, I used my sleeve to wipe my face, and kept the lead locked in a tight fist.

"So what your problem? Aint you ever lost a dog before, you're lucky it came back, although it seem a bit stupid, is it one of those "special" dogs? The names Charlie". She spoke with such brazen bluntness it took me by surprise, air quoting special, indicating that Jane, my dog, was not quite right. In all honesty she wasn't, not because of a medical condition but like all Langton's they were just naturally beautifully unique. I didn't know what to say, so just sat quietly fussing over my Jane, concentrating so hard on keeping back my tears until I was on my own again.

"You know you could thank me, I did a stand up thing ya know, it aint like me to do that kinda shit. I look out for me and only me. It must be this place, god I fucking hate it here", she said snapping aggressively, like pigs were more likely to fly than her ever to help anyone.

"Thanks, honestly, I didn't even realise she had gone, so thank you really". I said promptly, hoping that she wasn't about to punch me for being ungrateful. I thought quickly of the cakes and how normally one was given as a thank you gift. Then I suddenly snapped back to sadder thoughts of how we used to bake and how we won't ever again.

"So what were you blubbering like a baby for? You know you look a right mess, it's sad really." Again pulling no punches with her words, and clearly not capable of being slightly compassionate, "are you not embarrassed", she started to look around, scanning the field for people who might witness her talking too this blubbering baby as she put it. Out of no were, the word had leapt from my mouth,

"My grandparents died today, left me with a house and a dog. What am I going to do?" I felt the words crush my chest as they left my mouth, sobering the disbelief I briefly felt at the news. I imagined it was the same sobering smack in the face feeling an addict at an AA meeting would feel when finally admitting to their problem, no longer hiding from the heart wrenching truth. I panicked, I didn't know this person, I didn't want to make them uncomfortable, I glanced up to see Charlie willowing her eyes at me.

"Right, your grandparents, well I guess they aint coffin dodgers no more"

"What?!"

Struggling to contain her amusement she turned her head ever so slightly at a pitiful attempt at hiding the laughter her own joke had caused her. I looked at her in disbelief, how anyone could be so unsympathetic! I worried about making her feel awkward and she comes out with that. My face must have shown my shock loudly, that I was stunned, which made Charlie bite back.

"You know at least they cared enough about you to leave you a house and a dog, my parents don't even take any notice of my existence. They think I'm just a spoilt brat. They don't know me, they don't want to know me either, and that's fine with me. They're just shit anyway, I can take care of myself and I don't need anybody!"

My confrontation avoiding attitude meant that Charlie's explosion made me very nervous, I was the mousiest of mice. That year the biggest and boldest decision I made was the switch from 110% denier tights to a shocking 90%, and even then her hand was for pushed as the manufacturer went into liquidation, my grandparents said I should write a strongly worded letter to complain, but even that gave me a nervous knot in my stomach. With a jolt from Jane, I remembered I wasn't alone with Charlie, I had Jane on my side. Searching my brain for excuses to leave, I glanced up to see were Charlie was standing and she had vanished just as quickly she appeared. I thought I was going mad. That was until our next encounter.