Page 32 of Tower
I’ve clearly said the right thing. Levi’s shoulders relax and his eyes warm as we get out and he takes the basket from me to carry up into the gazebo.
We take the time to clear one of the benches of debris and bugs. Then we sit and pull out our food, happily digging in.
“So how did you know about this place?” I ask after I’ve finished my sandwich and eaten as much of the tomato as I can. I’m still looking around. I’m not sure what it is, but even half dead, the orchard and gazebo still have a charm about them I can’t help but appreciate.
Levi accepts the half a tomato I hand him and takes a big bite. After he’s swallowed, he mumbles, “This is my family’s place.”
“What? The orchard and everything?”
“Yeah.” He lets out a long, slow breath. “Been in my family for five generations.”
“Oh my God, Levi.” I have no idea why, but my eyes are swelling. I reach over to put a hand on his arm. “That’s amazing.”
“You shoulda seen this place before. When all the trees were bloomin’. Or at harvest. We got apples and cherries and pears. You’d’ve loved it.”
“I love it now. You said the trees aren’t all dead?”
“Not yet. I come by now and then and check. Some of ’em are already gone but not all. I can’t help hopin’ that this goddamn climate will bounce back soon. Otherwise… I’ll lose ’em all.”
I’m rubbing his forearm, my chest aching because I feel for the trees—and for Levi—so deeply. Then I suddenly gasp. Stiffen. Stare down at the beautifully drawn trees on his arms, stylized with interconnected branches and roots. “Your arms!”
He blinks over at me.
“The tattoos. On your arms. They’re trees. Are they… are they… this orchard?”
“Yeah.” With a raspy intake of air, he slants me an almost sheepish look. “I left home early. My folks were good, but my dad was… tough. He wanted me to be a good, hardworking, upstanding guy just like him. And I was a kid. I didn’t want that. I left ’em. Set out on my own and got in trouble. Spent some timein prison. I’m not a good man, sweetheart. Don’t want you to have no delusions ’bout me.”
“I don’t have delusions. I know you’ve lived a full life. But you were back here before Impact, weren’t you?”
“Yeah. My dad died, and my mom wasn’t doin’ well. I was all she had. So I came back here.”
“That’s when you hooked up with the biker gang?”
He chuckles at my blunt question. “Yeah. They were hangin’ out at the old motel even back then. Made sense for me to join ’em. Didn’t have anythin’ else to do.”
“When did your mom die?”
“Not long after Impact. She got sick, and the hospital had folded. Nothin’ to do for her. After that, we organized more and moved into base for good.”
“When did you get all these tattoos?”
He shrugs. “I was around thirty. Long before I came back home.”
“Why did you get them?”
He doesn’t answer for so long that I don’t think he will. But then he mutters, “I’d just got out of prison. I was missin’ home but too ashamed to come back.”
“Oh, Levi.” I scoot closer, nestling against his side as he wraps an arm around me.
“I was stupid. Mosta my life I been stupid.”
“Nothing that happened before can be changed. But you’re not stupid now.”
He nuzzles my hair. “I hope not.”
We sit in silence for several minutes. Then I finally ask, “So you really think some of the trees might make it?”
“I don’t know. It’s a long shot. But I’m still hopin’.” He sighs. “Gotta hope for somethin’. Although I guess trees aren’t all that important in the long run.”
