Roots, part ii

She had been rooted here for a long time. She had grown tall with the trees, stretching her arms to the sky, her feet sinking into the earth. She was happy. At least, she hadn’t noticed she was sad. Much time had passed. The neighbor had gone and taken his stereo with him, the stucco walls crumbled, the hills burned.

The burning was a painful thing for her to watch. The short scrub bushes died in a flash and a blaze as the fire tore its way over the hills, trampling the faded brown and the muted green and transforming them into ashy grey earth and broken tangles of charred black wood. Her beloved hills were ravaged and there was nothing she could do. So she stood and watched and wept leafy tears.

Only the palm trees remained. They still surrounded her yard, swaying over the ruins of the walls. She had loved the palm trees, their quiet chatter among themselves and with the wind. They had grown tall and slender, their hair cascading over their shoulders. They danced with the wind and would not speak to her. Everyone had gone or grown or crumbled. She was alone in the land she loved so well.

Roots

She lay on the bed, slowly willing herself awake.  The air was still and dry.  Getting up, she rubbed her eyes, touched her hair.  She walked to the kitchen and poured a glass of orange juice.  She sat on the counter and drank it, staring out the open window at the faded brown hills.  Someone next door was playing the stereo.  Blurred music, indistinct sound waves, a song she knew but couldn't recognize.

She slid off the counter, the tile floor cool under her feet as she walked to the sliding glass door.  It opened with a rattle and she passed through.  Outside, she sat cross-legged on the dry grass, pressing her palms against the ground.  Palm fronds rustled quietly against each other at the edge of the yard.  She closed her eyes.  She imagined roots growing from her hands, stretching and spreading into the ground, connecting her to the land she loved so well.  She pictured them expanding, drinking, growing.  Skimming close to the surface to be near the sun, diving deep for the cool water underground.  The roots would spread all the way to the hills and she would stay here, cemented, and never have to leave.  Always in the sunshine with the blue skies above and the quiet winds and the palm trees and the neighbor's stereo.  There would be stucco walls and dry ground and it would be enough.  She would be content.

Conspiratorially

The bear sat at his usual table in the back.  Perhaps you may be thinking "Bears don't sit at tables," but I tell you, my obstinate young reader, this one did.  He was just finishing his platter of fish and chips, busily wiping the oil off his paws.  A young fox came up to clear away the dishes.

"Evenin', sir. Anythin' else I can get for you?"
The bear looked up at her.  "Yeh're new here, aren't yeh?"
"Yes, sir," she smiled, balancing her tray of dishes.
"Hm," grunted the bear. "Nothin' else for now."
"Right, then. Give a shout if you need anythin'."
As she walked away, the bear pulled a pipe from the pocket of his trousers and began the ritual of filling it.
"Ken, yeh old skipper!"
The bear looked up again as his name was called from the front room.  "Hullo, Ted."
"Thought I might find you here," the red fox dropped his derby hat on the table and pulled up a chair.  "I've got a proposition for yeh, mate."
Ken struck a match and held it to his pipe.  "And what might that be?"
"A pint over 'ere, lassie!"  The fox leaned forward, lowering his voice.  "Conspiracy, man."
"Conspiracy."
"That's right.  Yeh know yeh want to go back to sea."
"What the devil are yeh talkin' about?"
"The Conspiracy.  Callahan's old ship.  She's just up for sale now.  I'm thinkin' yerself, me, a good crew an' all the sunlit seas yeh can imagine.  The world's at our doorstep, mate."
The bear leaned back, eyes on his friend's sharp, eager face.  "Yeh're mad, Ted, yeh know that."
Ted grinned.  "Mebbe I am.  But think about it.  D'yeh really want to spend the rest o' yer life rottin' away here on land, lettin' moss grow on yer back?  What happened to yer sense of adventure?"
There was a long moment of silence while Ken took a draw at his pipe and Ted fiddled with his hat, waiting.  Finally, he took the pipe from his mouth and tapped it absently against the table.
"How much does she cost?"