‘A bit.’ She rubbed at her eyes, which she had no doubt were red and swollen.
‘Anything I can help with, or anything you want to talk about?’
His kindness was sweet, and she was grateful for it. ‘No and no.’
‘Thank God for that!’ His unexpected response made her laugh. ‘I mean, no offence, Daisy, but I find the whole tears and emotion thing a bit tricky to deal with.’
‘Who doesn’t?’ She glanced sideways at the nerd who sat next to her in chemistry, maths, and physics. ‘Did you hear they are going to take one of the four oaks down?’ She shook her head at the horror of it.
‘Yeah, but it’s just one oak tree. Don’t forget they were once part of a wide wood, a forest, and these four are all that remains after they felled them over the years, culling the majority in the nineteen thirties to build houses.’
‘That’s heartbreaking!’ She tried to picture the expanse of green where tarmac and wheelie bins now stood.
‘Yes, but it’s progress. We need housing, we need roads, yada yada ...’ He shrugged. ‘The constant dichotomy of providing for a species who destroy their very habitat to thrive.’
‘So, these four oaks are the survivors; it makes me want to fight harder for them,’ she reasoned.
‘But what about the others long gone? It’s only your place in time that makes these four special. They were all special once, but someone came along and—’ He mimed swinging an axe.
‘I think they’re my grandparents,’ she blurted.
‘You think what are your grandparents?’ He looked a little confused.
‘The ... the trees, the oaks. I guess because there’s four of them. I talk to them. And I can’t bear the idea of one of them being taken away!’ Damn those tears that came at the most inconvenient of moments.
‘Please don’t cry, like, seriously – it freaks me out!’
She half laughed through her sadness. ‘I worry about there only being three trees; it’s like we need four to keep everything supported, keep everything as it should be, keep everything upright!’
‘Well, that’s a crazy notion, but no more than thinking the trees are your wrinkly relatives. A triangular structure can be just as supportive, as can a circle. You need to rethink your square.’
She glanced at him again. Maybe he was right. She needed to rethink her square ...
‘It’s bloody hot!’ He exhaled. ‘Scary, really. Recent data shows methane warms the atmosphere eighty times more than carbon dioxide in its first twenty years of emission. And you think people are worried about cow farts, just wait till the permafrost melts. Bloody worrying.’
‘It is bloody worrying,’ she echoed. ‘And that’s before we even get on to albedo feedback.’
‘Yep, absolutely: less ice equals more warming, which equals less ice.’ He rolled his hand to indicate the never-ending, depressing loop of decline.
There was a moment of silence while each pondered the issue.
‘I might go for a swim.’ He jumped up, changing the topic entirely.
‘In the river?’ She felt simultaneously horrified and attracted by the idea.
‘Why not?’
She watched as he slowly slipped off his socks and trainers, before peeling off his long-sleeved t-shirt and his jeans and folding them neatly into a pile on the bench; his glasses he placed on top of his clothes and there he stood in his snug, cotton boxers.
Daisy felt the spread of crimson over her chest and neck. Dylan was ... Dylan was quite beautiful. His muscled back rippled as he moved his arms above his head, treading cautiously along the riverbank. His legs were wide, and his chest smooth and defined.
He put one leg forward and placed his fingers on his hips, elbows out, looking straight ahead. ‘Who am I, Daisy?’ His face was pensive.
‘What?’ She tore her eyes from his chest.
‘Come on, who am I?’ He exaggerated his pose.
‘I-I don’t know!’ She admitted defeat.
