Many of the heads in the room were nodding along with his accuser. Dekkan opened his mouth to tell them about why the tree had needed to be pruned, but his anger got the better of him. Their ignorance wasn't his fault, and he had no obligation to rid them of it.
"Fools," he said, and walked out of the room.
* * *
None of Dekkan's neighbors bothered him for the next few days, although when they noticed him their conversation would come to a halt, leaving only awkward silence. He stopped pruning the tree, confident that they would come back with thanks when the fruit on the branches that he had trimmed around grew large.
Then he found the note on his door. He stopped and looked at it, confused, before he realized that it was a rent slip, which was even more confusing, as his rent was paid through the end of the year. He pulled the folded piece of paper from the spike in the door frame, and opened it. It listed his rent as being paid, but there was an additional hundred Ve that was listed as "punitive charges", equal to a quarter of his rent.
A few minutes later he was at Tewika's door, pounding it hard enough to rattle the shutters in their frames. The door opened and Tewika stepped out. Her hands were covered with flour and her impatience was plainly written across her face.
"You can't do this!" he said.
"You're right, I can't. But we can." she gestured to the entire block, "After you left, a vote was taken and it was agreed that you should bear the cost of what you have done, not your neighbors."
"You're crazy, you know that?" he said. She sighed, and stepped forward, shutting the door behind her. Dekkan felt pushed back, their positions reversed from the night before. Dekkan half turned, so that he didn't block her view of the tree. "Ever since old Mr. Yarai died, has anyone taken the time? How can the tree produce fruit if its branches all compete and choke the life from one another? You might be happy with apples the size of plums, but he would not have, and nor am I."
Her eyes widened, and Dekkan knew that he had gotten through to her. He straightened his spine and was about to press his advantage when suddenly his face was jerked sideways and his eyes teared up. She had slapped him.
"You want to tell me about my father?" she asked. She raised her hand and Dekkan stepped back to avoid another blow, but she only pointed at the tree. "He cared more about that tree than his own family."
"I-I'm sorry," Dekkan said. "I didn't know." He felt ashamed. He had spent so much time working that he didn't even know his neighbors' names. His accomplishments in the Council suddenly didn't feel so impressive.
"If I could, I would, but he always said that an arborist's place was in the trees, and a woman's was in the home," she said. Her anger spent, she relaxed.
"That's terrible," Dekkan said. He searched his memory, but could not find any memory of Mr. Yarai talking about his family. He had always assumed that the man had lived alone and died alone, and perhaps that was the truth of it.
"Listen," he said after standing in silence for a few moments. "I wasn't pruning the tree for ornamentation, I just wanted it to be healthy, to feed the block. I'm sorry."
"This was all avoidable. You know that, right?" she asked.
"Yeah, the worst kind of mistake," he said. "Thank you." He turned to go back to his apartment, but he didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to be with Yarai's daughter, either, so he just walked out into the city.
He replayed the events of the past week in his head, and thought about how arrogant he had been. He would have to apologize to a good many people, the whole block, actually. He smiled when he realized that it could all be rectified, but another thought wiped the smile off his face. His attitudes towards his neighbors hadn't been that different from the way he had treated his constituents and fellow council members. Rationally, he knew that there was a difference, that had someone had needed to act, but in his memories he was no longer illuminated upon a pedestal, but rather a bully who had commanded from atop a short hill. He had passed legislation, yes, but had he built the social infrastructure necessary to sustain it? The thoughts plagued him and did not go away.
* * *
The next week, he started to prune again, this time prepared to answer the questions of his neighbors. He was up in the high branches, and by midday he needed a break and made his way down. Expecting to find piles of branches everywhere, instead he found the ground clear. Two older children were pretending to fence with pieces of wood. Tewika was sitting outside her apartment, but stood when she saw him.
"Good morning Tewika," he said. "Your children?"
"I don't look that old, do I?" she asked, smiling. "You can call me Wiki."
"Of course not," Dekkan said, chagrined.
"I've been talking with our neighbors, and I think that if you talked to them, you could convince them to drop the fine," she said.
"Thank you, but no," he said. "Me being apologetic doesn't excuse my actions."
"Can you afford it?"
"For a while," he said.
"And then?"
"And then I'll go back to the council," he said.
"You can do that? I thought that the resignation was sort of permanent," she said.
"It was. I'll have to run again, but I think that I can win," he said. "In the meantime, I'll relax and work on the tree. I forgot how much I like building things."
"That sounds nice," she said.
"Would you like to learn how to do it?" he asked.
"I would," she said.
END
About the Author
Tom Dillon lives in Olympia, Washington with his awesome wife and an assortment of cats, ducks, and dogs. When he isn’t busy writing or reading, you can find him riding his bike, working wood, or rock climbing. Visit him online at https://pawnstorm.net.
About the Series
Other Stories by Tom Dillon
Try Not To Panic
The Press
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