Under The Dogwood Tree by Jillian Isentadt

In the north, the leaves began to change to their seasonal saffron and scarlet as the trees were nearing their inevitable abscission. Packing consumed Jack’s final days at home before taking on the south, where the sun continued to beat down across the land and scattered sun showers would dry out in minutes as if it never rained at all. 

“Jack!” His father shouted from the bottom of the stairs. “Don’t forget your welding helmet or your gloves!”                    

  “I know, I know I have them” Jack replied, without knowing where they were. 

He slid open his closet door to commence his final task and prepare for what was coming next. Like a dog digging in the dirt for his bone, Jack began throwing his things over his head in search of his unopened welding gear. Behind him flew his freshly worn cap and gown, a high school diploma that was barely placed into his hands, old sports equipment, and many other things that he didn’t have a care in the world for anymore. Beneath the pile laid what was left to pack: helmet and gloves. Jack shoved them in the last empty pocket of his duffle bag, zipped it up along with his many suitcases and IKEA bags, and packed up the UHAUL rental latched onto the bed of his 2005 Chevy Silverado. 

“Oh my Jackie boy, I’m going to miss you terribly,” his mom cried as she squeezed him on the front steps.       

“Mum, relax. I’ll be home in four months, and even better, I’ll be working.” He chuckled while realizing what this moment meant. His smirk turned to a slight frown as his arms wrapped around his mother’s waist. As he dampened the shoulder of her dismal grey sweater, he turned away and hopped into his truck. With his forehead resting against his steering wheel, covering his face from his mother’s view, he awaited his father’s arrival. 

“Quit your crying, let’s go,” muddled his father as he reached the passenger’s seat.  

           “Dad could you fuck off for one second, I can’t do this for the next 30 hours.” His father rubbed his back in silence while his head remained steady. Jack put the key into the ignition and turned out of the driveway, keeping his childhood home in his sodden peripheral while his pupils laid still, blankly following the faded yellow lines of the road.

And the leaves began to change.

Jack and his father began the journey on 95 South toward Florida. Hours went by and the moon began to peak over the highway’s pines that stretched down the east coast. Between truck stops, fast food, and the company of 92.9 classic rock, the two were somehow able to contain themselves as they shared such close quarters. Jack’s mother would consider it a miracle. 

“You ready to start adulthood, boy?” His father mumbled from the driver’s side. The muffled radio filled the silence of Jack’s taciturn answer.  

“Yeah,” Jack muttered as he lifted his face from the pillow that rested against the passenger’s side window, like two siblings forced to hug after a fight.    

“Well I sure as hell am ready, you are one expensive kid.” His father giggled as Jack dozed back into his pillow.  

“Oh come on, you know I only give you a hard time cuz I care about you. Hang out for a minute and talk to your father while you can, I won’t see ya ‘til Christmas.”   

 “I know Dad,” Jack replied. “It’s just a lot to take in right now.”        

“It is a lot, Jack. You know when I was 18 I left for the Navy, and that was four years, not four months, you’ll survive.”        

“That’s cool Dad, but I really need to get some sleep” As Jack’s eyes closed once again he heard a “you suck” fall softly out of his father’s mouth.                                                  

“I know Dad, goodnight.” 

As the sun began its diurnal shift, they finally turned onto Interstate 20 West toward Texas, and soon enough, they crossed the border and were welcomed by the Texas heat. Jack awoke to the view of Houston’s overwhelming concrete jungle wrapped together by windy freeways, painted over with brake lights, that stretched out to each corner of the city. 

“Get used to this Jack, this is what I like to call the blue-collar commute.”                 

 “Really, we finally get to Houston and that’s the first thing you gotta say about it?”           

“Oh relax, I’m just trying to tell you what it’s like to have this type of career. Do you 

think I’ve enjoyed welding and getting up at the crack of dawn just to sit in this traffic? I’ve been doing this for 30 years and I still haven’t adjusted to it.”   

 “Jesus Christ Dad, now I can’t wait to get to work!”                                                                            “In all seriousness kid, if you do good down here, and you like the work you’re doing, I 

would consider handing the business over to you when I retire.”             

“Shit Dad, okay,” Jack said with his eyes open wide.                

“Don’t get too excited kid, you gotta get certified first. Let’s see if that’s any easier than graduating high school.” Jack turned off the highway and ignored his father, per usual. With the gaslight holding back from lighting up the dashboard, they turned onto 185 Maggie Drive.           

“You have arrived at your destination,” howled the GPS. The two unloaded the truck as if they were being timed and the apartment was furnished before dark. They stood at Jack’s new front door as his father’s taxi arrived out front.         

“Hey Jack, please be good, don’t do any stupid shit while you’re here. Good luck.” His father pulled his free hand out of his pocket and out in the air, waist level to Jack. Jack peered down at the unfamiliarity from his father that was just a reach away.     

“Thanks, Dad,” he mumbled as he gripped his father’s hand.  They went their separate ways and both walked away hiding smiles that only crossed one side of their faces, hoping the other didn’t notice, but neither of them glanced back. 

And the leaves began to change. 

“Bye Dad,” Jack thought to himself as entered the bare walls of his one-bedroom loft that were coated with everlasting silence and desolation. That night he never fell asleep. Instead his eyes stoically peered upon the popcorn drywall,lying motionless above his naked box spring and unpacked bags. At the onset of Houston, the reality of seclusion crawled beneath Jack’s skin while the endless hum of outside existence taunted his inner silence. Weeks set in, the welding program commenced, and the urban roads gained familiarity, yet those adjustments failed to distract him from the palpability of his solitude. 

RING RING RING

“Jack, what’s up?”  

“Hey Dad,” Jack uttered under his breath as if the words pierced his throat. “I-I’m having a hard time, I’m just not happy here.” 

 “What?” replied his father “You just have to get over that and do what you’re there to do: weld. Now get your head out of your ass and forget about it.”     

  “But, Dad, I hate welding school, I breathe in metal and my arms are covered in sores from the frickin’ sparks. My back hurts from bending up down and around to get the pipe fitted and molded together, and the math is fucking ridiculous. I wake up, work, sleep, and it’s the same damn thing every single d-.”    

“JACK,” shouted his father. “Would you chill out for a second? You need to get out of the house. Go get some sun and some fresh air, and quit complaining, I mean, have you even tried to explore the area on your days off?” 

Jack sighed as he pulled the phone away from his ear knowing he would still be able to apprehend his father’s irritable disquisition.“No, I haven’t, I'm too tired from waking up at 4, sitting in an hour of traffic to school that’s 15 minutes away. I’m in the shop from 7 to 5 and I’m not understanding a damn thing.” 

  “Jack, I get it, I’ve been in your position. It’s only been a month, just do us all a favor and wait it out. And in the meantime, go do something other than sit in that apartment.”         

“Goodbye, Dad,” he answered.            

“Bye Jack.”

Jack snagged his keys off the partially built  table his parents got him from IKEA and rushed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him like he was late for an appointment. As he stomped to his parking space, his anger toward his father transitioned to a confusing combination of frustration and self-reflection, and he began to wonder if his father’s harsh words were wistfully precise. Jack punched “Galveston” into his GPS and headed south to take his first glimpse of the Mexican Gulf.  He soon stumbled upon the parking lot that featured a road sign “Off Road Path: Next Left” and without a second thought, Jack pressed on the gas and swerved down the road that was drenched in sand. When the nose of his pickup reached the median between the dunes and the crashing waves, he departed and continued his trek on foot. The sudden blare of distant whimpering penetrated Jack’s ears like a fire alarm. He let the obscure commotion guide his skeptical footsteps to a cavernous crater that punctured the beach berm. Bit by bit, Jack panned downward to find a dusty creature smothered in sand that couldn’t have been larger than a Bucees brisket sandwich. He swiftly lifted the bewildered being out of the trench and rinsed the furry figure with fresh water from the bed of his truck. Without a second thought, he cruised back to Houston with a bandana-wrapped puppy snoozing on the passenger’s seat. Jack welcomed the petite beast to his home and contemplated his next steps. Weeks went by and the puppy remained a classified resident, which Jack knew deep down would be permanent. 

And the leaves began to change. 

“Helloo?” Jack sang while he rotated his deteriorated brass knob, excited to witness the exhibit on the other side of the door. As he attempted to peel his rusted Tecova boots off his overworked feet, he was blissfully impeded by his nameless furry friend bearing an empty tin bowl between its sprouting fangs.  

“I have dinner, let’s see if you like tacos!” 

He giggled as he unraveled a takeaway bag lightly powdered with condensation. Jack scooped a side of carne asada into the bowl and carried them into the lounge. The two hopped on the couch and began devouring their dishes while they zoned into the Red Sox game. After they licked their plates clean, they raced the pup’s bladder to the door for a closing adventure to the courtyard. As the moon shifted across the night sky, the two bundled under Jack’s greasy covers, nuzzled against one another like two pipes welded together. 

RING RING RING

“Hello?”                                                                                                                                      “Dad!”                      

“How’s it going kid, you sound a lot better than the last time we spoke.”                            

“I’m doing pretty good. I’m starting to really enjoy it down here.”    

“That’s awesome kid, you liking welding school? Can’t believe you only have two 

weeks left!”         

 “Yeah I feel like I finally wrapped my head around it and I’m starting to enjoy the work, I think I made the right decision coming here, it’s like opportunities are falling on my lap you know? Is mom with you? I have good news.” Jack exclaimed.                                           

 “Yeah she’s right here, I’ll put the phone on speaker.”  

 “Hi honey, you doing okay?”  His mom blurted in from the distance.                                             “My instructor informed me that I will be graduating top of my class!”                                

“No kidding?” His father replied with astonished revelation behind the phone.                    

“Oh Jack I am so so proud of you, I can’t wait to see my working boy,” his mom

 bellowed.          

 “Can’t wait to be home, I’ll see you guys soon, I have to go for a quick walk.”                     

“A quick walk?” questioned Jack’s father.  “Since when do you go for walks? Anyways, bye Jack.”                                                                                                                                     

“Bye Dad. Bye, Mom!”

Finally, it was time to make the journey back home and say goodbye to Texas. Days before Christmas, that same 2005 Chevy Silverado swerved into the freshly frosted driveway of his childhood home. Before Jack could get the truck in park, he was greeted by his parents on the front porch.

“My boy is home! My boy is home!” his mother shouted with exhilaration. But before he could let out a word he turned to his father uncertain of his pondering expression.

 “I’m proud of you kid, you did good work.”

 Jack let out a minuscule grin as his father embraced him for the first time in over a decade, achieving the only award greater than his certification.  

“Oh I almost forgot,” Jack blurted. He turned back, hurrying to pop open the backdoor to his vehicle. His mother and father eyed one another as if they both realized their son was up to his typical mischief and observed the mystery behind the curtain. He effortlessly hoisted a hazel clump of fur over his shoulders like a newborn child, and delivered her to the front porch. 

“Mom, Dad, meet Maggie.”

And the leaves began to change.