Under the Plum Tree
James had known Paige for as long as he could remember. Pushing her under the water in the primary school pool during swimming lessons, being the only two batters still in for their team when they were ten and softball was still mixed, meeting her after school to walk home together when they went to separate intermediates for year 9.
When they hit their teens they’d sneak out together at night with Paige’s dog (her dog was small and yappy, and it was a rare occasion that Paige could jump out her bedroom window in the middle of the night without the high-pitched wee thing yelping after her) and head to the swings. Paige got motion sick very easily, so after only a few swings they’d always have to sit still instead and look at the stars while they talked about life.
Paige and her family took James under their wing early on- with an alcoholic mother who was never there anymore, James probably needed them more than he’d ever come to admit.
James and Paige drank together as they got older, cooked dinners together, climbed trees and ate plums in the sun together. In some ways, they grew up together. In some ways, they refused to let each other grow up.
James and Paige lived in each other’s pockets. They were brother and sister, by blood or not. At twenty-four Paige was working at the University nearby, teaching research labs to students in her field of knowledge and working as an assistant lecturer. She liked what she did but she knew she wouldn’t stay there long.
James had dropped out when they were young and spent a couple of years working out what to do with his life, and after a while working with the army in their country (if you could call it an army) he had returned to University and was studying to be a primary school teacher.
Occasionally the two had wondered in what sort of light they really saw each other. Once when James went through a tough break-up he placed his cool hands on Paige’s warm neck and drunkenly slurred, “We’re going to end up together, Paige. Maybe not now, but some day.”
When James had tried to break off contact for a while whilst Paige was dating a psychotic boy with gang connections, Paige had run after him into the night up the hill, and when he’d seen her tears he knew he couldn’t desert her with a monster like that.
Under the Plum tree halfway between their childhood homes one balmy Summer’s day, James had requested of her, “Tell me you don’t like me like that. Please.”
“I don’t.” had been her reply as she looked down at the bruised fruit amongst the leaves. James had pulled her chin up, stroked her cheek and looked in her eyes.
Of course, that was long ago. When they were younger. Hormone addled. Insane.
They were older now. They both knew boundaries. And Paige was with Tom and James with Eva.
James knew Tom quite well, actually. He’d met him before he dropped out of University, and kept in contact the whole time. It was through James that Tom first met Paige.
James had been a little startled to begin with. Tom was usually a shy child, and all of a sudden one night James stumbled into his hallway during a house party to find Tom passionately kissing Paige.
James was angry for a while. He told Paige it was because he didn’t want her to mess up Tom. To mess up their friendship. To make things awkward between the three of him. James’ girlfriend at the time didn’t understand- they didn’t last much longer.
Six years on though, and minus one blip on the radar, Tom and Paige had stayed strong. James wasn’t so close with Tom anymore- he was Paige’s now, not his mate.
But on this particular sunshiny day, Tom and James were relaxing in the backyard at Tom’s flat. Shirts off, beers in hand, and Led Zep on the radio. Tom was more into that style of rock than James. James preferred the same kind of music as Paige; rock, but more melodic. He guessed you’d call it pop rock. And James was broad-shouldered and muscly enough that he didn’t need to feel ashamed to admit to liking a good pop melody.
Tom cleared his throat.
“Oi, how’s stuff with that Eva chick?”
James half raised his eyebrow and took another gulp of his beer. A rugby ball lay near their feet, and James decided he’d suggest heading to the park for kicks soon.
“Yeah pretty good, aye. Why?”
James and Tom weren’t the kind of guys to talk about relationships. James might talk about relationships with Paige, but Tom talked to… well, Paige.
Tom half shook his head and gave a crooked smile.
“I reckon…” he leant forward and leant his elbows on his knees and laughed before looking up at James, a full smile on his face now.
“I think I’m gonna ask Paige to marry me.”
James choked on the beer he was swallowing.
Tom sat up straight quickly with a furrowed brow, “You alright?”
James hit his chest and tried to process what Tom had just said. He nodded as he coughed.
Of course he was okay. Just his Paige was possibly getting married.
In that one sentence from Tom, James’ world came crashing down around him. He knew Paige loved Tom. But while Paige loved Tom, there was no chance of anyone else stealing Paige away. She was right where he could see her.
Sure, Eva was great. Sure, plenty of women he’d been with had been great. But of course, he’d always entertained the idea that the day that he was single, the day that Paige left Tom, when they were late twenties or early thirties… They’d walk along the beach again, they’d eat fish and chips- which Paige only ever did with James because it was unhealthy and only he could convince her to loosen up enough- they’d pick up snails, he’d teach her to skim rocks, they’d dip their toes in the water, he’d splash her and- and then they’d kiss.
Like they almost had so many times.
Like all those opportunities he’d had when she was younger.
When they were drunk.
Like all those boys tried to do with her when she’d been drinking, and he’d rage over and pull away any guy that brushed her leg with his hands or stood too close.
One night he’d called her when he’d seen a guy that had hurt he when she was a teenager.
“Do you want me to beat him up?” came the sincere question through her phone.
“No, James!”
James had done it anyway.
But if Paige married Tom, Tom would protect Paige. Tom would always be the one to place his arms around Paige’s hips.
James had waited patiently, waited for his time, his time to kiss Paige’s lips, to caress Paige’s hips- the right time. And if Tom married Paige, his time would never come.
“So, if she says yes, do you wanna be my best man?”
When they hit their teens they’d sneak out together at night with Paige’s dog (her dog was small and yappy, and it was a rare occasion that Paige could jump out her bedroom window in the middle of the night without the high-pitched wee thing yelping after her) and head to the swings. Paige got motion sick very easily, so after only a few swings they’d always have to sit still instead and look at the stars while they talked about life.
Paige and her family took James under their wing early on- with an alcoholic mother who was never there anymore, James probably needed them more than he’d ever come to admit.
James and Paige drank together as they got older, cooked dinners together, climbed trees and ate plums in the sun together. In some ways, they grew up together. In some ways, they refused to let each other grow up.
James and Paige lived in each other’s pockets. They were brother and sister, by blood or not. At twenty-four Paige was working at the University nearby, teaching research labs to students in her field of knowledge and working as an assistant lecturer. She liked what she did but she knew she wouldn’t stay there long.
James had dropped out when they were young and spent a couple of years working out what to do with his life, and after a while working with the army in their country (if you could call it an army) he had returned to University and was studying to be a primary school teacher.
Occasionally the two had wondered in what sort of light they really saw each other. Once when James went through a tough break-up he placed his cool hands on Paige’s warm neck and drunkenly slurred, “We’re going to end up together, Paige. Maybe not now, but some day.”
When James had tried to break off contact for a while whilst Paige was dating a psychotic boy with gang connections, Paige had run after him into the night up the hill, and when he’d seen her tears he knew he couldn’t desert her with a monster like that.
Under the Plum tree halfway between their childhood homes one balmy Summer’s day, James had requested of her, “Tell me you don’t like me like that. Please.”
“I don’t.” had been her reply as she looked down at the bruised fruit amongst the leaves. James had pulled her chin up, stroked her cheek and looked in her eyes.
Of course, that was long ago. When they were younger. Hormone addled. Insane.
They were older now. They both knew boundaries. And Paige was with Tom and James with Eva.
James knew Tom quite well, actually. He’d met him before he dropped out of University, and kept in contact the whole time. It was through James that Tom first met Paige.
James had been a little startled to begin with. Tom was usually a shy child, and all of a sudden one night James stumbled into his hallway during a house party to find Tom passionately kissing Paige.
James was angry for a while. He told Paige it was because he didn’t want her to mess up Tom. To mess up their friendship. To make things awkward between the three of him. James’ girlfriend at the time didn’t understand- they didn’t last much longer.
Six years on though, and minus one blip on the radar, Tom and Paige had stayed strong. James wasn’t so close with Tom anymore- he was Paige’s now, not his mate.
But on this particular sunshiny day, Tom and James were relaxing in the backyard at Tom’s flat. Shirts off, beers in hand, and Led Zep on the radio. Tom was more into that style of rock than James. James preferred the same kind of music as Paige; rock, but more melodic. He guessed you’d call it pop rock. And James was broad-shouldered and muscly enough that he didn’t need to feel ashamed to admit to liking a good pop melody.
Tom cleared his throat.
“Oi, how’s stuff with that Eva chick?”
James half raised his eyebrow and took another gulp of his beer. A rugby ball lay near their feet, and James decided he’d suggest heading to the park for kicks soon.
“Yeah pretty good, aye. Why?”
James and Tom weren’t the kind of guys to talk about relationships. James might talk about relationships with Paige, but Tom talked to… well, Paige.
Tom half shook his head and gave a crooked smile.
“I reckon…” he leant forward and leant his elbows on his knees and laughed before looking up at James, a full smile on his face now.
“I think I’m gonna ask Paige to marry me.”
James choked on the beer he was swallowing.
Tom sat up straight quickly with a furrowed brow, “You alright?”
James hit his chest and tried to process what Tom had just said. He nodded as he coughed.
Of course he was okay. Just his Paige was possibly getting married.
In that one sentence from Tom, James’ world came crashing down around him. He knew Paige loved Tom. But while Paige loved Tom, there was no chance of anyone else stealing Paige away. She was right where he could see her.
Sure, Eva was great. Sure, plenty of women he’d been with had been great. But of course, he’d always entertained the idea that the day that he was single, the day that Paige left Tom, when they were late twenties or early thirties… They’d walk along the beach again, they’d eat fish and chips- which Paige only ever did with James because it was unhealthy and only he could convince her to loosen up enough- they’d pick up snails, he’d teach her to skim rocks, they’d dip their toes in the water, he’d splash her and- and then they’d kiss.
Like they almost had so many times.
Like all those opportunities he’d had when she was younger.
When they were drunk.
Like all those boys tried to do with her when she’d been drinking, and he’d rage over and pull away any guy that brushed her leg with his hands or stood too close.
One night he’d called her when he’d seen a guy that had hurt he when she was a teenager.
“Do you want me to beat him up?” came the sincere question through her phone.
“No, James!”
James had done it anyway.
But if Paige married Tom, Tom would protect Paige. Tom would always be the one to place his arms around Paige’s hips.
James had waited patiently, waited for his time, his time to kiss Paige’s lips, to caress Paige’s hips- the right time. And if Tom married Paige, his time would never come.
“So, if she says yes, do you wanna be my best man?”
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