Under the Magnolia Tree

We met when it was that awkward time between spring and summer where the flowers were at full bloom, edging between the peak of their lives and their end. I call it summer-spring. We were both 16. You were staring up at my magnolia tree, hands cupped around the biggest and most beautiful blossom. I remember that your hair was so messy and your clothes were so ragged that I thought you were homeless. And I suppose you were, just not in the traditional sense.

I know this because when I shouted, “Keep your hands off my magnolia tree, you homeless wretch,” you shouted back, “I have a house you idiot! And this tree isn’t even yours! Just ‘cause the park’s abandoned doesn’t mean you own it!”

I was about to shout something back, something witty and deprecating, but I couldn’t think of any sort of counterargument. I opted to stomp towards you with my most menacing glare instead. When I got closer to you, I heard you mutter to yourself, “But I guess with the way things are in the house, I don't really have a home.” 

What a weirdo, I thought. I was sure you were one of those obsessively sad and angsty teenagers who’s ragged clothes are a fashion choice, and I said so. You were enraged, and it overjoyed me. But then you said I looked like a brown-nosing nerd with my glasses and oversized sweater, and all the satisfaction I got was drained.

We bickered for a long time after that. I don’t remember what we bickered about for so long. It seems that we had gotten off the topic of the magnolia tree quite quickly, and we ended up in a battle to see who could insult each other better. After we had exhausted all the flaws we could find in each other’s appearance, we both ended up storming off. The thought of you was so infuriating that I resolved to completely forget about the matter.

***

A week later, you were there again, sitting against the trunk of my magnolia tree. The memories of our first meeting resurfaced easily. You shot a glare at me and I returned it. Neither of us spoke a word. I plunked myself down right next to you, daring you to move away. You didn’t budge. We sat together under the tree in uneasy and stubborn silence. Some of the petals on the tree were clinging to their final moments before finally falling to the ground and into your hair. You were doodling in a thick notebook, and I had to try very hard not to sneak a glance of whatever you were working on. I resolved that I would focus on my homework. A few thousand words over the word requirement later, I decided that I would leave first. After all, traces of crimson were already touching the sky, and mom always scolded me when I got home after dark. I sighed, conceding defeat to our battle of stubbornness. However, as I got up, you did too. You wore a queer smile on your face and winked at me before running away. I didn’t know what to make of it.

***

You were there the day after that too. And the day after that day, and the day after that day, and the day after that day. The silence never ceased, but it soon became bearable. The silence became calm and comforting, along with your presence. And each day, as soon as the crimson touched the sky, I would stand up first and you would do the same. You would smile at me just as you had done before, but you never winked at me again. I forced myself to return the smile, and we would go our separate ways.

***

Another week of silence passed before I had the courage to speak to you again. Most of the flowers had wilted by now and we were sitting on their corpses. In the flower’s place were tiny leaves. The sky had started to burn, and it made my curiosity burn along with it. I took a deep breath and tapped your shoulder. You turned your head to face me.

“Why’d you wink at me that day?” I asked you.

You scratched your head. “Which day?”

“The first day that we sat together. Or the second time we saw each other.”

“Ah!” you giggled. “I forgot I had done that.”

Another shameless giggle escaped your lips as I felt my face start to burn along with the sky.

“Hmmm...I did that ‘cause I thought you were weird. You were so focused on your essay you hadn’t even realized I was staring at you.”

By now my entire body was aflame.

“What! I-I’m not that weird!” the words stumbled out of my mouth.

“I even ended up drawing an entire portrait of you without you noticing! Wait a second… lemme get it out for you.”

I didn’t know what to say, and my poorly planned reply ended up as a jumble of incoherent stuttering.

You pulled out your notebook and flipped to the drawing.

“Tada!” You presented your notebook with a flourish.

I took the notebook from you and cringed. I had expected something pretty, but you were meticulous about accuracy and details. The creases in the corners of my mouth, my dull eyes, and pimples were all present.

“Y-You couldn’t even make me look good! Couldn’t you at least get rid of my acne?”

“Nononono, why would I get rid of your acne? You called me homeless after all!” you laughed. “Besides, you look fine!”

“Ughhh. I’m going home,” I tossed the notebook at you and stood up. You thrust out your arms to catch it. You stood up too, as you were busy making space in his backpack for your notebook. I started walking away, before I turned back to look at you one more time.

Your eyes were gleaming. You had noticed that I had turned around.

“Bye!” you shouted, vigorously waving.

I rolled my eyes. “Bye,” I muttered, while I gave you a halfhearted wave. But as I turned to face the road again, I caught my mouth in the middle of a little grin.

***

The flowers on the magnolia tree were long gone and replaced with green leaves and sweltering heat. Summer days were here, and we started talking to each other more. We overshared and complained about our lives under the shade of the waxy leaves. You liked to complain about your parents. I liked complaining about school work.

I found out you were a terrible student, loud and inattentive. You told me that you were failing all of your classes. I was mortified, but you didn’t care much about it. I told you that I was a straight-A student, and how you were a little bit right about the brown-nosing nerd comment you crippled me with on the first day we met. You blushed and stammered out unintelligible apologies. I let you off the hook.

I got you into novels and you got me into cartoons. You showed me your drawings and I let you read my diary.

On one hot languid day, I ran all the way to the magnolia tree despite the desperate heat. I had brought ice pops, and I didn’t want them to melt. You brought your leftover Halloween candy stash. As we savored the sweetness, we started sharing secrets.

You liked to sing.

I used to bully boys and ended up making one of them cry.

You cross-dressed once and your mom didn’t recognize you.

I used to tell people my name was Florence because it sounded more romantic.

You hated the grape ice pop I had gotten you.

I snatched it out of your hand and ate it.

You giggled, and I found it endearing. We went back to sharing secrets.

I told you that I thought of the magnolia tree as my castle, and I was its princess. I didn’t want to let a lowly pauper, you, into my kingdom of pink petals and winding branches.

You pouted, and promoted yourself to the position of a prince. You stood up and twirled around, before placing an imaginary crown on top of your messy hair. Then you promptly ordered me to bring you a feast.

I waved my hands in the air and fashioned a roast ham out of blue sky. You tried to frown and told me you wanted a real feast. A smile broke through despite your best efforts. I laughed at you.

“Why would you want me to make you a real feast? I’m the princess, not your butler.” I grinned. “Besides, I’m not a very good cook.”

Your smile turned sullen.

“My parents don’t feed me.” Your voice was quiet. “There’s nothing left in our refrigerator.”

I was dumbstruck.

“Oh.”

We sat in awkward silence.

“Um...alright!” I said. “I’ll bring you a feast tomorrow, and I’ll do my best not to burn it! I promise!”

A small smile gradually shone on your face. Your eyes were dull.

“Thanks,” you said, but I could tell you didn’t believe me.

The next day I brought a picnic to the magnolia tree. I told you it was the feast I had promised you, even though it was just a bunch of different sandwiches, sodas, and a cake. I was absolutely sure that I would not be able to burn a sandwich, but you insisted that the edges were burnt. I told you that they were, in fact, heavily toasted.

You cried when you took a bite of the cake. You said that it was the best thing you had ever tasted. I told you that I stole the recipe from the internet. You didn’t mind and kept on crying all the same. You told me that no one had kept their promises to you before.

“Promise we’ll be friends forever,” you sobbed. “And every day you’ll bring me food.”

I was a bit concerned, but how could I refuse? You had somehow started giggling through your tears, those heavy crystal dewdrops, and I couldn’t help but giggle too.

I told you that I keep my promises.

***

I remember the day I realized I liked you. We were bored and staring up at the sky through the leaves of the magnolia tree, squinting at the sun and the clouds while munching on sandwiches I had brought.

You told me that we never got around to all the generic friend stuff, the icebreakers. Favorite colors and all that. I told you my favorite colors were pale pink and baby blue: the color of magnolia petals and a spring sky.

The next day you came bounding over to me, flaunting your colored nails. Your right hand was polished with pink and your left with blue. I almost thought I would cry when you told me that from now on, pink and blue were your favorite colors too.

***

Summer transformed quietly into fall. The weather was getting colder and I couldn’t go to the magnolia tree as often. When winter came, I didn’t go at all. My parents didn’t want me catching a cold and told me to wait for warm weather. And so I waited and waited within the gray four walls of my room, waiting for spring, waiting for the moment when I would be able to see you again.

***

When I went back to the magnolia tree, clouds were brooding in the sky above. I ran all the way with my picnic basket, and by the time I could see the silhouette of a magnolia tree in the distance, I felt like I couldn’t breathe at all.

I stopped to catch my breath. Would you be there? I had told you that I would come back once the first spring day came, but what if you had forgotten? It looked like it was about to rain, what if you didn’t come for the fear of being drenched? I started to run again.

At last, I could see the magnolia tree in front of me with small pink petals peeking out of gray fuzzy buds. And underneath the twisting branches, you were standing there.

A wide smile was plastered on your face, and your eyes were gleaming.

You started running towards me too. I dropped the basket and we collided into each other’s arms. Both of us hugged each other tight, and despite my best efforts, tears slid down my cheeks.

“I missed you,” you told me.

I smiled against your shirt. You smelled like grass. “Me too.”

Light rain started drizzling down. You didn’t let go, and I didn’t either. 

“I like you,” I whispered. “A lot.”

I heard your giddy giggles. “I like you too.”

After that, we had another picnic feast, except this time you weren’t a prince, but my knight in ragged armor and messy hair.

***

Nothing changed much after that first spring day, except that the small fuzzy magnolia buds had now bloomed into full and beautiful blossoms.

Then one day, you came to the magnolia tree covered in purple bruises. One on your cheek, another on your wrist. You were crying, and I was shocked speechless. You rolled up your sleeves and your pants to reveal more sprawling violet. I cradled you in my arms as you sobbed.

“How did this happen?” I asked.

You struggled to talk. “My stupid parents. I told them I wanted to move out.” You interrupted yourself with ragged breaths. 

“They wouldn’t let me,” you cried.

“Then...then,” I struggled for words. “Can’t you call the cops or something?”

“I don’t want to go to an orphanage!”

“Well, what if you...you ran away?”

“Run away to where?” Heavy crystal dewdrops fell onto the grass.

“I could ask my parents if we could take you in!” I exclaimed.

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden.”

You didn’t say anything after that. I held you tight as you exhausted all the tears in your system. You were limp and lifeless in my arms. When all that was left was a heavy silence and the weight of a blue sky, you untangled yourself from my embrace.

“I’ll think about your offer,” you said. “But I think I’m gonna go home now.”

“What? You can’t go home! What about your parents?” I asked.

You hesitated and I noticed.

“I’ll be fine,” you said. Then you ran away before I could say anything else. I stayed at the magnolia tree until sunset, trying to understand what had happened.

***

You didn’t come to the tree the next day. I waited there for you anyway. It must’ve been hours. I was bored out of my mind, but I couldn’t bring myself to go.

Eventually, the sunset burst into flames. Crimson streaked the sky, and everything burned. My head was on fire with unrelenting questions and sulking rage.

***

Finally, I remember what happened this morning. My mom was skeptical about the idea of housing another child. She offered her help, but not as much help as I had hoped.

I walked slowly through the summer-spring air with this on my mind. It was that awkward state of two seasons at once again, just like how it was when we saw each other for the first time. The sky was impossibly blue, and a gentle breeze carried petals to and fro. I didn’t want to reach our magnolia tree. I wasn’t sure how to tell you the bad news.

And when our magnolia tree, our castle and fortress, came into view, I gasped and broke down. My mouth hung open and a knot rose in my throat.

I saw you hanging under the magnolia tree.

I ran. I tripped a few times and my legs felt like jelly, but I reached you. A thick rope was wrapped tight around your neck, and your body was limp and lifeless. The gleam in your eyes was gone. I wanted to cry but I couldn’t. The knot stuck in my throat unraveled and it came up as sour bile.

This couldn’t be real. It’s just a dream, a nightmare. Why would you even do this? It doesn’t make sense. I clung to your cold body.

You idiot! We were supposed to be friends forever, you dork, and now you're gone. Is it because of me? Because I came up with the idea of running away? This wasn’t what I meant by running away. All I wanted was for you to escape your parents, but now you’ve gone and ran away from the entire world. Idiot!

I begged for this to be a dream, for the rope around your neck to disappear and for you to giggle again, but no matter how hard I hugged you wouldn’t wake up. Tears started falling from my eyes like heavy crystal dewdrops, like magnolia petals in the summer-spring. I couldn’t stop crying no matter how hard I tried.

What am I going to do now? I barely got through a winter without you, and now I’m supposed to live my entire life with the better half of me hanged? I can’t do that. I weighed all my options and I know which one I want to choose.

I’ve said everything I have to say now. We’re at the present now, the ugly present where you’ve run away and I’m going to run away with you.

Don’t think of these words as a suicide note. It’s a memoir, dedicated to the person who loved me and I loved the most. I hope to see you soon.

And so farewell, my kingdom, my knight, and my life. I’ll leave it hanging under the magnolia tree.