M + E

She smeared the condensation on the window away, revealing a large field of dead grass with one scrawny tree in the middle. Stone gray clouds covered the sky, taking up all the space that they could. An occasional crow was heard somewhere in the distance. She stared out the window, eyes not revealing anything, then huffed at the glass. It fogged up immediately. 

"Marianne," a deep, familiar voice called out. Marianne turned her head to see her Uncle descending the stairs. His brown hair was pulled together at the back, his gray eyes were squinting in concentration as he tried not to pitch forward down the stairs. It wouldn't be the first time. He successfully descended and rested one hand on the banister.

"Are you ready?" His voice was scratchy and took up all the space in the room. He fixed his collar. Marianne nodded. She reached for the wheels of her wheelchair and maneuvered away from the window. She then made her way to the kitchen table to her left. On it laid a small, white plastic box, propped against it stood a rusted metal shovel. A shuffling of footsteps made their way towards her. Her Uncle reached for the shovel as she reached for the box. 

"Let's go," She said.

~o~o~o~

She forgot how cold it got here in November, or perhaps it got colder. It stung her skin and filled her lungs with ice. Her long coat, hat, scarf, gloves, sweatpants, long johns, and winter socks did nothing to protect her from Montana's bitter cold. The view in front of her changed as well. The wooden cabin of her childhood was nothing more than a pile of wood, glass, and stone. There was no sign of life anywhere near. Not even the sound of crows could be heard. She pushed her joystick forward. The ground was uneven beneath her, but it was nothing to worry about. Every bump felt nostalgic. She reached the used to be backyard and stared out at the scene. The grass was still brown and dead, but the tree was gone. In its place was the faint outline of a tombstone. Her stomach filled with uncertainty and she swallowed nervously. A shovel rested on the armrests of her wheelchair. She pushed her joystick forward.

~o~o~o~

Her Uncle steered her through the field. Any other day she would have protested, but today she kept silent. They headed straight towards the tree. The grass grazed Marianne's wheelchair and legs with a whoosh, her uncles' boots made a crunching sound on the grass, and small gusts of wind made their presence known by hitting their bodies every few seconds. The plastic box laid on her lap, the shovel laid across the armrests of the wheelchair. It took a few minutes before they got to their location. The tree looked even worse up close. Its leaves had died off long ago and its branches shot out apprehensively. Its trunk seemed more grey than brown and was almost as skinny as the branches. Everything around them seemed dead. Marianne's Uncle walked around her and grabbed the shovel. It seemed small in his large hands. Marianne watched as he walked to the tree, arms shaking. 

"Here?" He asked, pointing the shovel a couple of inches from the trunk of the tree. Marianne contemplated this. 

"No," she said. "It's too close to the tree. Maybe a foot away would be good." Her Uncle followed her request and pointed at a couple of inches away from the first spot. Marianne nodded. With a sharp inhale her Uncle lifted the shovel and dug it in the ground. The air was immediately filled with an earthy smell. He continued to dig until a small hole formed. 

"Enough," Marianne said as she stared at the hole. It seemed large enough. Her Uncle nodded, face red and beads of sweat on his forehead. His whole body seemed to be shaking. She rolled herself towards him and handed him the box.

~o~o~o~

It didn't take Marianne long to get to the tombstone. It was right before her eyes in what seemed like seconds. The stone was crumbling in the corners, the text was beginning to fade. Her entire body felt frigid and unwell. She was entirely old for this. What was written on the tombstone was no surprise to her.

Edward James Clark

1936 - 1999

No memo was written on the stone. It suited her Uncle very well. She was one of the few who attended the funeral. She was the one who planned it after all. The tree was cut down to make room for the tombstone. A life for a life. She sighed heavily, went to the back of the tombstone, and picked up the shovel.  

~o~o~o~

Her Uncle stared at the box for what seemed like minutes. His brows were knit together and his mouth was set in a grim line.

"Let's see what's inside it before it's gone," Marianne said, breaking his reverie. Her Uncle jumped at the sound of her voice but nodded violently to her statement. He carefully unlatched the lid and placed it on the ground. He pulled out each item as if it were holy. A pack of Marlboro cigarettes, a lighter, a folded vinyl cover of the rolling stones 5 by 5 album, a new copy of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, a piece of foil shaped to look like a rocket representing Project Gemini, a letter that Marianne wrote to her future self, a letter her Uncle had written to her, a stuffed toy rabbit, and a black armband. Marianne tilted her head to the side and stared at the armband. Her Uncles hands began to shake even more. 

"Ok," Marianne said, "You can put it in the ground now." He nodded sharply and lowered the box into the hole, covering it back up with dirt. Marianne frowned.

"What's wrong?" Her Uncle asked as he wiped the dirt off of his knees and gloves.

"How will we know where it is?" She asked, motioning to the freshly patched up hole. "In the future and stuff." Her Uncle placed both of his hands on top of the shovel and leaned forward.

"The tree will mark the spot." He responded simply, not making eye contact with her.

"But what if the tree's not here in the future?" Marianne whined. 

Her Uncle walked over to the tree, shovel in hand, and touched the tree softly with his other one. 

"This tree will never go away. It has been here for God knows how many years. It's a lot stronger than it looks. In fact..." He said as his eyes brightened with inspiration. He lifted the shovel up and touched the tip of it to the tree. Marianne squealed in protest, but her Uncle shushed her. The shovel pressed against the tree, leaving a small curved line in its place. Marianne was growing impatient, but her Uncle eventually stepped back and revealed his work. Carved on the tree were the letters M + E. He had tried to engrave a heart around them, but it looked more like a lopsided circle. That didn't bother Marianne at all as her face broke out in an all face consuming grin. She stretched out her arms, motioning for him to give her a hug. He quickly went into her arms and hugged her tightly.

"As long as this tree stands, which will be forever, we will be together." He said to her in her arms. She inhaled the dirt, winter smell, and cheap cologne off of his jacket.

"Forever?" She asked

"Forever."

~o~o~o~

It took Marianne a very long time to dig up the box. It took her an even longer time to get the box from the hole and into her lap. But she was in no hurry. Even as she felt her bones turn to stone. The box in her lap was stained yellow and smelled of rot and dirt. The latches fell apart as she undid them. The contents of the box were just as she remembered. She took each item out and examined it with great care. She first took out the pack of Marlboros, then the lighter, and then she lit a Marlboro with the lighter. The cigarette didn't taste like it was 55 years old and had been in the dirt. She took out the book, rabbit, vinyl cover, and foil rocket. She smiled a wistful smile to herself and set them aside. There was not enough time to unpack her childhood favorites right now. She stubbed her cigarette and stared at the remaining three items in the box. Her stomach felt like it was churning lead and her ears heard static. She picked up the black armband and closed her eyes. Liar, liar, liar. She knew her thoughts were childish but the armband filled her with rage. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. When she finally felt calm enough she picked up the letter her past self wrote. The envelope was stained and crinkly. On it her name was written in bad, 8-year-old cursive. To be honest, her cursive hasn't gotten much better. She opened the envelope and unfolded the letter with calm hands. 

Dear Old Marianne,

Hi old Marianne. I am you and you are me. Isn't that funny? I hope your doing good. Today is November 17th, 1965. Were putting the box in the ground tomorrow. I think by the tree. Uncle Ed said we had to make a box to keep all our memories together since we won't see each other in a very long time. But you know that. Cause you are me and stuff. He has to go fight in the Vitname war. Vitnam? Or is it Veitnam? Vietnam? I don't know how to spell it. He said they put his name in a hat and picked it out, so now he has to fight. Im very sad about it and am scared for Uncle Ed. I think he will be a very bad fighter. He said that he doesn't want to fight but he has to. Since they picked his name out of the hat and stuff. I dont know how the govrment works but if they do this pulling names out of hat stuff a lot Im worried. My, or I guess our, Mama and Papa don't want me back. They were the people who gave me to Uncle Ed in the first place. Uncle Ed said its because I cant walk. I don't know a lot about our Mama and Papa but if they dont want me I dont want them. So Im being sent somewhere with a lot of people like me. People who cant walk, people who cant see, people who cant hear. Im scared but Uncle Ed says it will be good. I will get a educashion since the schools here dont want me. A lot of people dont want me. Maybe the place with all the other messed up kids will be good. Im not sure. But this educashion will help me become a astronaut! I want to be on the next space project and maybe even land on the moon! I know its never been done before but i think i can do it. Take care of Mr. Carrots and Charlie. Im really sad to leave them in the ground but I think they will be ok. The Marlboros and vinyl cover are from Uncle Ed. He said youll need some cigaretes and good music in the future. I dont think I, we, will ever smoke. My hand is starting to hurt. Im gonna end this letter.

Love,

Little Marianne

She folded the letter sharply and put it back in the box. Her throat was tightening and she could barely breathe or swallow. A lot of people don't want me rang through her head. She stared at the other envelope for a few seconds before she willed herself to pick it up. She carefully pulled the letter out of it and opened it. 

Forgive me.

That was it. Tears pricked her eyes and she bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. What she knew, that little Marianne didn't, was that her Uncle was not drafted into the war. He pretended he was. He didn't want to look after her anymore, he didn't want to have to teach her, he didn't want to be her parent. He gave away most of his 20's to look after her because her parents didn't want to. She dropped the letter back into the box and steadied her erratic breath. She went to the disability institution, where she was looked after poorly and struggled to leave as an adult. When she managed to leave, she struggled in college and couldn't find a job after. Forgive me. She dropped her head into her hands. Thick tears rolled down her face, hot and heavy. After a few minutes, she lifted her head and stared at the back of the tombstone. She came here for one reason and one reason only. She reached for the lighter in the box and flicked it. A small, yellow flame danced on the tip of it. Her mouth set in a firm line. 

"You're forgiven but I need to move on," She said to no one but the air. Her voice seemed squeaky and small. Her eyes were glued to the back of the tombstone. 

"We made this time capsule together so I would never forget my time here," She laughed, "Believe me. I couldn't if I tried." With that, she brought the tip of the lighter to the corner of her Uncle's letter. Soon the entire box was inflamed. The fire warmed her from the inside out.