08-05 samnote*

Finally. Someone knows something.
​
Here’s what I know.

The landlord asks me to help. I volunteer Brandon to come with me, too. Not like we’re going anywhere. Gives me an excuse to talk to him. He didn’t make sense last time.

Hats. T-shirts that are gracious about sweat.
A shed in the backyard. A chainsaw. A hand saw. Some gritty gloves. A roll of fraying twine.
We give the jacaranda a trim. Once green. Now cardboard, old and dead.
The saw is heavy in my hands. Branch. Branch.
I cut the tree. Brandon helps.

An extension cord wraps around my leg. I grab for it.
Brandon says nothing when he moves around and unwinds me. He goes back to the dry branches. Breaks them apart. I don’t quite catch his eyes.
He seems excited but not quite here. He moves faster than me. Maybe I'm the one out of it. Still. He didn’t need to do that.
I can cut down a tree.

After the branches, I reach as high as I can stretch with the cord. Hands at eye level. Too high, I can’t control it.
Brandon trims whatever falls. Hum. Clunk. Clack.

I ask Brandon how he’s doing.
“Anything that gets me out of my room.”
I know the feeling. I move on to another part of the tree. Brandon shifts.
​

I can’t stop thinking about this tree. I’m not fond of trees in general. Why were Brandon and I there? Turning a brittle skeleton tree into a nest.
​
I wrap some of the last bundles up in twine. Brandon catches his breath.
​
I didn’t even know this area got earthquakes.

“Flood. Earthquake. All the same, right? I felt it, too.”

There was a flood. Tyler’s wrong. I didn’t just hit my head?

“Different people, same disaster.”

I don’t think so. I was there. I didn’t feel any earthquake. And the flood looked like it came out of nowhere. Or I didn’t see where it came from. Tyler and I have looked—“Looked everywhere and no sign of it.”

How do you know that?

“I don’t know anything.” He looks tired, like we just finished the work.

Yeah. I talked with some other people, but they don’t know anything. But at least it’s good to know that this thing did happen. I didn’t just, like, hit my head.

“Whatever you say.”

I point at the bundles. What do we do with the wood now?

“I hope it’s firewood.”

Like we need it now. It's too hot.
​
“I’m sure everyone will want it at some point.”

Unless it gets wet.