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“Fucked-up angel,” I say and grab the saw from him. “Come on. Are we doing this or what?”
It’s cold and I’ve got snow places snow should never be, but I feel warm from the inside out. Rex is gleeful, explaining to me the different types of trees and how long they last. He points out what makes them different, but I’m content just to walk next to him and practice thinking happy thoughts: this is our tree. We’re going to decorate it together. We’re having Christmas together. There will be a fire, and food, and the dog. There will be Rex.
“Hey, you okay?” Rex says, stopping when he realizes I’m a few paces behind him.
“Yeah,” I say. “Just happy.”
Rex’s smile is pure joy. He looks like a little boy who was told he did a good job.
By the time we find our tree, there are families wandering the lanes alongside us, kids plowing through snow that’s up to their thighs, pointing at which trees they want—always the biggest ones.
“That one,” Rex says, pointing to a medium-sized tree at the end of the row. It doesn’t look any different than any of the others to me, but what the hell do I know? The last Christmas tree I had was made of beer cans.
Rex kneels in the snow and starts to saw through the trunk of the tree. I’ve never seen anyone cut down a tree before. It’s strange.
“You want to try?” Rex asks.
I don’t, really, but it seems like one of those things that we’re supposed to do together. I take the saw and slot it into the notch Rex has started. After sawing for a few minutes, I’m exhausted. Rex touches my back and takes over again. When he’s sawn through, we stick the saw into the snow so we can find it again, and walk back to get Wallace. Rex gets on the tractor or baler or whatever it is with Wallace, but there’s only room for two, so I wait for them by the hut.
I’m watching an adorable little girl trying to braid tree branches when my phone rings. I expect it to be Rex, stuck in the snow with Wallace, or Ginger, calling to confirm when I’ll be in Philly for Chanukah. But it’s Brian.
“Dan,” he says.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, before he can say anything, because damn trying to be less suspicious, Brian has never called me in my life.
“Um,” he says, “have you heard from Colin?” His tone of voice says he assumes this is ridiculous but needs to ask.
“No,” I say. “Not since the funeral. Why?”
“We haven’t seen him since the funeral either,” Brian says.
“What? But what about the party at the shop?”
“He didn’t show.”
“Is he at home?”
“No, man, we didn’t think of that!” Brian says, like a jackass. “He isn’t at home and he hasn’t been at the shop. We haven’t seen him since the funeral. I keep calling his phone and he never picks up.”
“I haven’t talked to him, Brian,” I say, “but if I hear from him I’ll let you know.”
It’s a testament to how anxious Brian must be that he doesn’t say a single nasty thing as he hangs up the phone. I dial Colin’s number and his phone rings to voice mail.
“Colin,” I say, “um, it’s Daniel again. Look, Brian just called me and he says no one’s heard from you since the funeral. I just… want to make sure everything’s okay. Okay? So, even if you don’t want to talk to me, maybe call Brian or Sam? Okay, bye. Oh, and I didn’t say anything. Okay, bye.”
“All right, son, you’re all set,” Wallace says, pulling the trailer thing with the tree in it up in front of me. Rex hops off and hands Wallace some money. I reach for my wallet, but Rex waves me off.
“Thank you,” he says, shaking Wallace’s hand. He looks so happy.
“Merry Christmas, boys,” Wallace says, waving.
Rex smiles at me and then grabs the bundled-up tree like it’s nothing more than a baseball bat he’s casually resting on his shoulder and sets off for the truck. He straps the tree to the roof and we set off. Rex is unusually talkative, explaining some of the things Wallace told him about tree farming. I love seeing him so happy, but the call from Brian is nagging at me.
“Hey, what’s up?” Rex asks a few minutes later. I glance up at him.
“You don’t think….” I begin. “I mean….” I shake my head. “It’s just, Brian called while you were getting the tree. And he said no one’s heard from Colin since the funeral. He’s not at home, won’t answer his phone. I just… I don’t know, I just wonder if he’s okay. I’ve called him. A few times. And he hasn’t called back.”
A few nights ago, when I took Marilyn out for her evening walk, I called Colin again. At first I was just going to leave a generic, “Seriously, dude, are you ever going to call me back,” message. But as I was walking, I started to think about how it might have been if Colin and I had been allies instead of enemies. How different things would have been. How different I might have been. So, when his voice mail picked up, I said, “Hi, Colin. I’m so angry with you because you cheated me out of a brother. I don’t understand why you never told me. I mean, I can think of lots of reasons, but I don’t know what yours was. No matter what it was, though, I think it sucks. I think it sucks that you let me think I was alone in this, when I wasn’t. I wasn’t, was I, Colin?”
