A gray hoodie hangs from a wooden hanger. The threading is pristine. There is no pilling on this hoodie. It is stiff from a lack of use, comfortably resting in the quiet darkness of Diego’s bedroom closet. A sturdy pair of dark denim jeans is hung by a belt loop from a hook on the inside of Diego’s bedroom door. The stillness in the air is disturbed by the “sunrise” alarm that brightens to gently wake the person who set it. It is 4:00 AM and the birds that live in the tree outside the window are silent. With a yawn and a stretch, Diego rolls out of bed and stealthily makes his way to the bathroom. Phone in hand, he goes through his social media feed.
I swear, people are so fickle. Everyone’s attitude changes so often. Bad day, good day, bad day, all within a three-hour period. “Period, end of story,” he says mimicking a news caster he remembers from childhood. He chuckles softly to himself and prepares for the day.
He sits on his bed and slides his favorite jeans over his thin legs. They are comfortably worn in all the places where the body bends. The hips, knees and buttocks all sit well on Diego’s body. He then reaches into his closet and grabs his favorite hoodie. The major difference between these two is he wears the jeans often and will do so until they are tattered and torn, but the hoodie resides mostly in the closet. It is clean and still has the size sticker on then inside lapel. He zips up the hoodie over a band t-shirt he bought at a summer concert in college and heads to the front door.
I think I’m going to go back to Yosemite. I haven’t seen those trees in forever. It’s weird how desperate I have been lately to see nature. I mean, I can go anywhere, but I keep choosing these pretty isolated places. I’m not lonely. I’m not, I swear. ‘Swear?’ Who are you talking to, Diego? Let’s just head out.
Finishing the outfit with a pair of grey sneakers, Diego mouths Yosemite quietly to himself and is instantly poofed to the seemingly never-ending State Park. In the darkness he finds a clearing and sits on a small round rock, smooth enough on top to not be much of a discomfort and listens to the life around him. There is a scuttling in the bushes. The wind moves through the trees taking hold of the branches as a dance partner would. The smaller trees sway in the wind to the rhythm of the song of the wind. There is a chirping from the birds overhead. A clapping of water against the rocky edges of a nearby stream calls out to the thirsty animals nearby. Transitioning from his seat upon the rock to the floor nearby, he stares upward and falls into a deep sleep.
“Sir! Sir!”
Diego is startled awake. Jumping to his feet he looks around for the voice.
“Sir!” A park ranger, walkie talkie in hand, calls out to a disheveled man walking barefoot ahead of her undeterred by the sound of her voice. His urine stained plastic milk jug in his right hand, and in his left, he held the entirety of his Earthly belongings, two shirts, a single pair of pants, a pair of flip flops that dangled from his finger tips and a large wool blanket. Strapped to his sun scorched back was affixed a small home-made fishing rod. The park ranger, whose name tag reads Tegan, stands about 5’1 and stands firmly in her freshly ironed uniform. Her hat sits snugly on her head over the bun she tied early in the morning. “Sir! You must stop. You have to leave. You cannot assault fellow visitors!”
The disheveled man stops in his tracks. He buries his chin in his chest. “They were being reckless. If I were a bear, they would all be dead. I did them a favor eating their breakfast and flipping their stuff onto them. You should kick them out and leave me be.”
“Sir, there is no excuse for that behavior. No please, come with me. I will escort you out. I do not want to call the police.”
“Look, you seem nice. Tegan, right? You’re fairly new. Just a few weeks? I am going to cross the stream and scamper off. You will not catch me, and you will not find me. I suggest you leave me be.”
“Absolutely not, sir! I cannot allow you to remain in the park. There has been an official complaint lodged against you.”
“What’s my name?”
“Excuse me, sir?”
“Tegan. That’s your name. What’s my name?”
“Well, I don’t know, sir.”
“Right, then you don’t know for sure it was me.”
“You just admitted to it.”
“No, I didn’t. Did you record it?”
“Please, just come with me.”
He has a point, you know. You don’t know for sure it was him. Diego shrinks back for a moment, “Why did you just get involved with that? You idiot!” He screams at himself.
“Stay out of this, young man!”
Young man? We are the same age. Hell, I might actually be a little older than you.
“That is irrelevant! You just stay out of this!” Tegan steps toward Diego, who immediately steps back. “Oh, where did he go!?” The disheveled man made no sounds as he skittered off. There was no splashing sound that either Tegan or Diego heard, and he was as vapor in the sun. “You made me lose him. Come here, you!”
What? No. I’m not involved in this. And with that, he took his leave, afoot into the endless wilderness of Yosemite National Park. Tegan gave no chase. Her quarrel was with a man in his underwear who came upon a group of campers. Defeated, she heads back up the bank to the trail and hops in her rover and heads back to the office.
Frustrated with himself for sleeping through the sunrise, Diego sets out to make the most of his day in the Park. He takes off his shoes and socks, and steps into the stream. The rushing water splashes up his legs and dots his body with water up to his chest. Looking for fish and finding none, he turns his gaze upward. Scanning the treetops above, he sees several birds fluttering about the treetops. Jealous of their ability to fly he calls out in frustration, Oh shut up, you birds. And no, it’s not good luck when you shit on someone, so stop that. You think you’re so special because you can fly? Ha! I eat birds. I love chicken. Realizing the absurdity of his shouting, he reflects, Chicken? Seriously? Come on, man, the birds don’t speak English, first of all, and second of all, you can poof. Just go up there. Ooh, good idea. Thank self.
I might be going crazy. I just chastised myself and then responded to being chastised. Up. In an instant Diego finds himself standing atop a Sequoia tree. As far as the eye can see is lush greenery, smatterings of birds darting in and out of the canopy tops, bright blue skies, mountain snowcaps and valleys barely visible between the nearly interlocking branches. Again, the wind sings its song breaking up the silence. It ruffles the branches and stirs the birds perched atop them. A few branches down he notices a large nest. There are several birds in it whose eyes are affixed on Diego. A little intimidated, he looks about for another tree top to spend his afternoon. You know what? They might be staring pretty intensely at me, but I’m not supposed to be up here. It’s all good.
“Hi there.”
The voice startles Diego and he loses his footing. Before falling to his death, he rotates his body and steps down a foot to a lower branch and leans toward the center of the tree and takes hold of the trunk.
Who the fuck said that!?
Laughing, the man responds, “I’m sorry ‘young man’, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Yeah, fuck me, dude. That would have been a terrible way to go.
“Well, at least it’s pretty on the way down. Thanks, by the way.”
Yeah, I guess so. Also, for what?
“You distracted the park ranger.”
Oh, it’s you! Where are you?
“Come back up and look to your left.” There atop an identical Grizzly Giant Sequoia tree just 25 feet away a man can be seen laying back against the trunk with his legs outstretched and crossed right over left.
How’d you get up here?
“Same as you, I suppose, I climbed.”
Fair enough. I’ve never seen you before. Well, before earlier anyway.
“I can say the same about you. I live in the park.”
There are houses out here?
“This tree is my house. And the one you’re on. That is also my house. This park is my home.”
Oh. These birds your roommates?
“Hmpf. Not roommates, but they do live here as well. I am their guest, if you will.”
I see. You been here long?
“Just a couple years.”
Where were you before?
“Seattle. I grew up there. I had a pretty good job, but I felt unfulfilled and after this storm broke the top of the Sequoia downtown and the city never fixed it, I felt like I needed a change.”
Wait, you’re not that guy that climbed up there?
“I am. I wanted to bring awareness to the dying tree. It doesn’t belong there. They moved it downtown in the 70s and they’ve been slowly letting it die. It’s wrong.”
How long were you up there?
“Not long enough. Only 49 hours.”
Dang. What brought you here?
“I got arrested. I decided to leave that place and make a life for myself here.”
Oh man. For climbing the tree?
“Assaulting a police officer. I hit them with apples and pine cones. They deserved it. They’re part of the problem.”
That’s fair. I like it out here. I come as often as I can.
“Where do you live?”
Everywhere.
“Right on, man. Hey, you hungry?”
I could eat.
“Catch!” The man throws an apple at Diego who catches it square in his chest.
Nice throw!
“Thanks. That was my job.”
What?
“Yeah. I was starting second basemen for the pro team in Seattle.”
Get the fuck out of here.
“No.”
Wow. I heard about a guy in a tree up there, but never realized it was a baseball player. Why wasn’t that more news?
“No idea, but I’m glad it wasn’t. That park ranger might have given some chase.”
Who, Taben?
“Tegan. Her name is Tegan.”
Yeah, her. Well, shit. Thanks for the apple.
That was the last either of them spoke a word for the rest of the afternoon. They both sat back on the tree branches at the top of the majestic centuries old arbors. The sounds of crunching fruit, singing birds, whistling winds and shaking branches filled their ears and that was enough. Both men were satisfied with what the afternoon brought and chose not to disturb it with conversation. When the afternoon began to wane and darkness fell upon the park a new sound was added to symphony of the tree tops, snoring. Diego looked over and saw Seattle Second Baseman Rufus Brown comfortably secured to the tree snoring away. With a nod he turns away and tiptoes his way to the edge of the branch. With a smile he bends his knees and dives off. Just as soon as he clears the branch and begins to descend to the earth below, he calls out, Home. In an instant he is in his bedroom a foot above his bed. He is horizontal to the ground and lands prone onto the bed. The memory foam mattress swallows him up and the platform legs creak beneath the force of the fallen man.