text: My tree is at the corner of Peach and Limon, right at the edge of the park. It’s only about three blocks from our house, but since you have to take two turns to get here, sometimes it feels far away. And safe. It’s far enough away to feel safe. Anyway, you can’t hear the yelling from here. I came out tonight to sit under its rustling leaves, tucked up in the branches where the human world seems smaller and I feel closer to the birds, and the insects. Sometimes, when I’m really still, an owl swoops beneath the branches only feet away. I like to sit in the darkness because it makes me feel less like me. I could just disappear, and become one with the tree. Which I guess is how this crazy lady didn’t notice me... She comes ambling up all this way and that, and peters over to my tree. Of all the trees in this park, she picks mine . And it’s pretty hard to miss that she’s sobbing. I don’t mean crying gently into the night, I mean sobbing . The waterworks are flowing and she’s heaving breaths in a staggered way, like they keep getting caught in her throat. It’s very much intruding on my preteen sulking. Unfortunately, she doesn’t just pause and move on. First, she leans against the tree, forearm pressed up against the rough bark. Then she turns and with a deep sigh, sinks down onto the grass. At least once she’s on the ground her crying seems to slow. It’s more a heavy sniffle now. I lean my head back against the trunk, prepared to sit it out for a few minutes, and close my eyes. Even when interrupted with regular snot-snorting I’m able to ease my consciousness into the rustle of the leaves, the comfort of my tree. A few minutes turns into half an hour and my left butt cheek’s gone all numb. Crazy Lady has stopped sobbing and her breathing sounds rhythmic. Peering over the edge I can see her head tilted slightly back, resting against the trunk. I try to slowly shift a bit, just so I’m leaning a tad the other way, but in the sliding, a small piece of bark breaks off and plummets silently down, straight as an arrow, to bounce squarely off Crazy Lady’s face. Her eyes snap open, whites reflected hauntingly in the moonlight. And then she starts screaming. “ What the f***?! What in the h***?” is followed by some indistinct yelling as she attempts to jump to her feet but loses her balance... “Hey! Calm down! Stop screaming!” I say while trying to simultaneously climb down and motion with my free hand. “What the--” She’s backing away, but doesn’t let her eyes off me. “Who the f*** are you? What are you doing here?” “What are you doing here?” I retort. “I was here first.” I feel childish the moment I say it. “You’ve just been sitting up in this tree this whole time?” she says, but she’s stopped backing away and is leaning toward me now, peering through the darkness at my face. “ Wait a second! ” I say, realizing where I’ve seen her. “You’re Elaine Costa! The Olympic freestyle skier! I watched all your runs at Vancouver!” There’s an awkward moment of silence where I realize I’ve been staring and try to find somewhere else to look. “Um, ya. I am. Er--um, I’d appreciate it if you don’t tell anyone about this though. I’ve just had a rough night, okay?” “What happened?” I realize how rude my question was the moment it’s out. But I also kinda want to know the answer. “My boyfriend and I broke up. We were living together so it’s a bit uncomfortable at the house now... part of the reason I spent longer at the bar than I should have.” I realize I’m staring again. “And what are you out here for?” She asks. I avert my eyes, “parents are fighting again.” “Ah,” she says. “I don’t know why you bother with relationships anyway,” I blurt out. “You’re amazing! You have such an incredible life. Why would you want to ruin it with all that drama?” I don’t know what’s making me so bold, maybe just this time of night, or something about the circumstances. “Haha,” She smiles. “It’s not all sunshine and gold medals, girl. Companionship is a tricky thing but loneliness is worse.” I let out an involuntary hmph , and she raises her eyebrows at me. “Look, we’re all human. Your parents might not be saints, but they’re doing the best they can. It’s not all like in the movies, you know?” “Do you,” I pause. Would my parents have moved upstairs by now? “Do you need a place to stay tonight? You could come back to our house,” I blurt out. “My bedroom is in the basement and there’s a couch down there, too.” I feel ridiculous the moment the words leave my mouth. Even under the cover of darkness I can feel the flush rising in my face. She looks contemplative. And strangely, also like she pities me. “Tell you what, I’ll come back and use your bathroom if you don’t mind. Get a little freshened up and call a cab. Would that be okay?” “Sure,” I say, and we start off together. The walk is awkwardly silent. I have no clue what to say this grown woman. Even in her disheveled state she’s stunning. I certainly know I’ve never looked that good. She looks sideways at me. “You’ve never had a boyfriend?” “No, I mean, I have...” I say. “It’s just, it was kinda stupid, y’know? And so stressful, constantly trying to figure out what he’s thinking and all.” “Haha,” she laughs again. “I forgot what it’s like as a teenager. It gets better though, the more you learn to communicate.” “But I mean, look where it got you...” I look down at my feet and shrug. “I just want to do the things that make me happy,” and I pick my head up again. “I don’t need my happiness to depend on someone else.” She opens her mouth to say something but we’ve reached my family’s house. “Right here,” I say, leading her down the townhouse steps to the basement door. I unlock it and let her in. Things seem pretty quiet upstairs, so I think my parents have gone to bed. I point out the bathroom and she disappears inside. Sitting on my bed and looking around I’m a little embarrassed by how childish my room still is. I’ve never bothered to take down the large Tigger poster next to the lamp and there’s a pile of stuffed animals on a beanbag in the corner. Elaine takes a while, but eventually comes out looking even better than before. Her hair is all back in place and she removed the smudges of makeup from under her eyes. I think she even reapplied some lip gloss. “Well,” she says. “Thanks for the stop-over. I have an Uber on the way, it should be here in two.” She tucks her phone back in her pocket. “Are you going back to your place with your ex?” I ask, screwing up my face in a grimace. “Ya, it’ll be okay now. Look--I just want to say--I’ve been where you are before. I know, I know, people say that and you can never really believe it, but in this case I have. My parents fought like crazy, and many of my relationships have been trash. But what I’ve realized is this--the more I try, and fail, and try again, the better they get. Sometimes you get it wrong, like this guy, it’s not ganna work out. But eventually I’ll get it right--better than my parents, because I’m not rushing into marriage or anything. But until I started trying to be in real relationships, I never got all the benefits of it. It’s a lonely world out there. Don’t close yourself off to try and avoid pain. Pain’s inevitable, it just takes the form of loss or loneliness. And believe me, as bad as I looked tonight, loneliness is worse.” She looks down, slowly nodding to herself, then says, “Welp, I better go. Have a good night, uh...?” “Jennifer,” I say. “Goodnight Jennifer,” and she lets herself out.