It’s a cold, clear day, mostly calm, but when the wind blows, it gusts, and the poor little tree looks like it’s about to topple over.
“I like this one!” Pearl declares. “It’s so cute.” She goes to hug it, and since the branches are so sparse, she’s actually able to do it.
Cora is distracted, wiping some drool from Winnie’s chin.
Pearl grins at me hopefully.
I channel Cora. “Maybe, uh, maybe that one needs some more time to grow. It’s kind of, um, stunted.”
Cora flashes me a look.
“I mean it looks a little frail.”
Cora raises an eyebrow.
Pearl gently pats the sad tree’s branch. “Are you frail?” she coos. “I love you. You’re a good tree.”
Cora begins to wander around the area, checking out the neighbors. We’re on the verge of the next plot of trees, which are bigger and denser.
“What about this one?” Cora asks. She’s standing in front of what comes to mind when you think of a Christmas tree. This one is almost seven feet tall and dark green with a perfectly proportional triangular shape.
I circle it. No gaps or dead patches. We’re not going to do better.
When I come back to the front, Pearl has her face buried in the thick branches, breathing it in. “It smells so good! Smell it, Mommy.”
Cora wafts the scent toward her nose. She can’t bend forward and risk the branches poking Winnie.
“So, we agree? This is the one?” I feel like we’ve looked long enough to make the drive worth it, and I’d rather not have Winnie out in the cold much longer, even though Cora has her bundled up.
Pearl looks back at Charlie Brown, and her face falls. “But what about that one, Daddy?”
Cora wanders over to it and inspects a sagging branch. “Daddy’s right. This one needs a little more time to grow.” Her voice is tinged with sadness, and Pearl picks right up on it.
“What if it doesn’t? What if no one ever wants it?”
“Then it’ll get to live a long life outdoors in the sunshine. That doesn’t sound too bad for a tree, does it?” Cora smiles at Pearl encouragingly.
Pearl will not be bamboozled. “But it’ll never get presents and lights.” Her blue eyes round as she turns to me, and my stomach twists. “It’ll bealone.”
Cora strolls back to the big tree. “No, it won’t. Look at all these other trees. It’s surrounded by so many friends.”
Pearl is wavering. She pads after Cora and takes her own turn around the big tree. “This one can havesomany presents.” She’s talking herself into it.
I start gauging how I’ll attack the sawing. I don’t like bringing security on outings with minimal risk, but I could really use an extra set of hands.
Pearl glances back at Charlie Brown. On her face, pity wars with desire. It’s obvious that she’s seconds away fromconvincing herself that Charlie is good enough. Hell, no. Not my child saddling herself with a stunted tree because she feels bad for it. I’m making an executive decision.
I kneel in the frozen mud and shoulder my way past bushy needles. “Cora, can you take Pearl outside the falling radius? Just in case this doesn’t fall the right way.”
In the excitement of watching me roll on the ground, contorting myself into a good angle to saw the tree’s trunk, and incidentally abandoning every shred of dignity, Pearl forgets about Charlie. I forget about him myself as we have our perfect tree shaken and wrapped. Cora and Pearl get hot chocolates and a dose of microplastics from some Styrofoam cups while I tie the tree to the roof of the Range Rover.
I don’t immediately process what Pearl is talking about when she says to her mother, “Do you really think he’ll be okay?”
Cora doesn’t miss a beat. “Of course.”
“But there was nobody close to him.”
“Some living things like having more space.”
