Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Shathar
I wake up the following morning eager and ready for what this “weekend” will bring.
On Arshur, I opened my store every day of the week for four hours each day, once in the morning and once in the evening, to make it easiest for my customers.
When I hired my help, I was able to take a few days off every so often to tend to my own matters, and offer customers a greater shopping window.
Now I think of him running the store in my absence and hope that he, too, was able to find a helper of his own.
Fiona is already locked in her office when Khesan and I rise, so we work together in silence to make our own breakfasts.
Khesan is wearing his new jeans and one of his new shirts, which highlights how much taller and thicker he is than I am.
He has significant muscle, likely from training in the military. It is impressive.
I scoff. He is a kept pet, and this is a manufactured body.
“What?” asks Khesan as he retrieves a “bagel” from the “toaster oven” like Fiona taught us. I don’t tell him that the dial is up too high, and his bagel comes out a tad burned.
“Nothing.”
He arches one brow skeptically. “If you have a problem, you should say it.”
“I don’t. Just thinking how different we are.” I take my food to the table.
“Hmm.” Khesan leans against the counter as he eats. “Then it should be easy for Fiona to choose between us.”
I growl low in my throat, but resist the urge to fight with him this morning. Instead, I decide to go for a walk around the neighborhood and orient myself better.
It is chilly and brisk out, but my scales protect me from the cold for the most part. I will need to purchase some sort of “jacket,” like Fiona has, when it gets even colder. One more thing she will have to buy. I wish I had funds with me, as Khesan does.
There are many homes like Fiona’s in a row along the block. Cars pass down the street, so I keep to the sidewalk. Trees intersperse the homes, but their branches are all bare, making them look old and dead.
I stop when I reach a tree, though, that is still covered in dark green. It’s pointed at the top, as Fiona described, with layers of green branches that spread out the closer they get to the ground. My translator identifies it: pine tree.
Interesting. This is what Fiona told us the humans erect in their homes for this Christmas holiday.
I head back to the house, considering my idea. Perhaps I can do one thing to make her life easier. I’m not sure how I’ll do it, but I’ll find a way.
When I return, I’m annoyed to find Khesan in the living room watching television. But then I think that perhaps, he can help me with my idea. I will still receive the credit for it, even if he assists me.
“Khesan,” I say, approaching the couch. His suspicious face snaps up to mine. “I have a plan. Remember this ‘Christmas tree’ that Fiona spoke of?”
He nods slowly, suspiciously. “Yes.”
“I’ve found one. Perhaps we can bring it for her, so it’s one less chore leading up to the party finished.”
His brows rise. “Oh?”
“I have no way to cut it down, though, and I would need assistance retrieving it.”
He regards me skeptically. “I don’t know how we would cut it down, either.”
“She must have a tool around.”
Reluctantly, Khesan agrees with a snap of his claws, and we both begin searching the house for some method of cutting through a large diameter of wood. The knives that Fiona uses for cooking are much too small, but I’m not sure what else we could use.
I search the downstairs while Khesan heads out into the garage, where he is certain Fiona keeps her tools.
“Shathar!” I hear him call after another hour of searching. I follow the sound of his voice into the room where Fiona keeps her car, and he holds up a thin metal object with a handle and a serrated blade. “I believe this is what we need.”
I could hug him. This is exactly the device that will do what we require. Still, I don’t want to give him a big head, so I clear my throat and nod once.
“Good. That will do it.”
Armed with the cutting device, I show Khesan down the street to where I found the tree.
“It is like she described,” he agrees, surveying the tree. “And it should fit inside the house. Not too tall.”
I preen. I found the perfect tree after all.
Aiming the serrated tines of the device at the wood base, I experiment with how it works, and soon I am sawing, watching the wood part gradually under each stroke.
It is tough going, but I refuse to look weak in front of Khesan.
Still, I am only a quarter of the way into the tree when I feel like my arms might give out.
Khesan chuckles. “Tired yet, old man?”
I sigh. “Yes.” I step back from the tree and shake out my hands, offering him the device this time. “See if you can do better.”
Khesan starts furiously sawing, and he does make faster progress, but I can see sweat coursing down his forehead the longer he goes. Soon, though, he is halfway through the tree, and we both hear a creak!
“Watch out!” calls Khesan. He grabs me by the arm and yanks me off to one side. I am about to yell at him for giving me such rough treatment when the tree tilts, then crashes down to the ground right where I was standing a moment before.
Khesan wipes his forehead with his hand. “You can say thank you.”
I growl. “Thank you.”
But he really did save me from severe injury. I shake myself out, a little winded from my near-death encounter, and then we both gaze down at the felled tree.
“Let’s take it back then?” he asks. I get my arms around the scratchy branches, glad for my scales to protect me.
He does the same with the base of the tree, and together we heft it into the air.
I settle it over a shoulder and he does the same, and laboriously we carry it back to Fiona’s home down the block.
Getting it through the door is a challenge, and we leave pine needles everywhere, which I will clean up later. Then we navigate it into the living room. But once we erect it with the stump on the floor, it immediately tips over.
“Vakha,” I hiss. “How do we keep it up?”
“You didn’t plan for this, then?” says Khesan with a smirk.
“Did you?” I shoot back. I have to keep one hand on the tree to keep it erect.
Then I hear Fiona’s voice call out, “Shathar? Khesan?”
I had hoped to keep this a surprise, but I suppose now is as good a time as any to show off what we procured. She comes around the corner as Khesan backs away, and her blue eyes grow huge.
“What on earth? What is a tree doing here?”
Khesan proudly crosses his arms. “We found one for you,” he says, and I hiss at him, raising my fans.
“It was my idea,” I snarl.
He shrugs. “I helped you.”
“Where did you get it?” Fiona’s mouth forms a circle. “It’s big. And fresh.”
“Nearby,” I say with a shrug. “I got a good one, though, didn’t I?”
She frowns. “Nearby?”
I am still holding up the tree, but my arms are getting tired. “Is there a way to keep this upright?” I ask.
“Oh, yeah. A tree stand. I’ve got one in the attic.
” Fiona disappears up the stairs, then we hear a few banging noises before she returns with an odd wire object in her hands and a white string attached to her hair.
She bats the string away, muttering, “Damned cobwebs,” before she brings over the stand.
Khesan and I lift up the tree together, then she positions the device and we lower the trunk in. The tree sits perfectly, now able to stand on its own.
“Wow,” Fiona says with a smile. “So cheery in here!”
My fans raise in pleasure. I knew this was a good idea.
“Okay, wait.” She furrows her brow. “Did you buy this?”
“We cut it down,” says Khesan, producing the blade with the handle.
“You found my saw?” Her brows lower even more. “Where did you get the tree from?”
“Close by,” I repeat.
She groans. “Don’t tell me. You chopped down one of my neighbors’ trees, didn’t you?”
My mouth opens, then closes again, because I think that is exactly what we did.
“Is that… bad?” Khesan asks.
Fiona closes her eyes and drops her head into her hands. “That is definitely bad.”
Vakha.
Khesan glares at me as Fiona lets out a drawn-out sigh, then raises her head again.
“Well, hopefully they don’t have a security camera,” she says with a half smile. “Maybe I should just send them a few hundred bucks.”
Khesan growls. “You should not have to pay for our mistake.”
“I will work,” I say. “I will get a job to pay for the tree.”
Fiona waves her hands at both of us. “Shush.” She turns to the Christmas tree again. “It really is a nice one. I guess we should decorate it over the weekend, huh?”
Khesan shoots me one last dirty look, but it seems as if we’ve been forgiven.
That evening after dinner, Fiona goes up into the attic again and instructs us each to carry a large box down to the Christmas tree. The boxes are full of baubles, all which are bright-colored and look quite delicate.
“Where do these go?” I ask, lifting out a glittery gold bauble.
“Oh! The ornaments!” Fiona cackles with glee. “This is the best part. You just put them anywhere you want. There are so many, Mom loved collecting them.”
For the next few hours, Fiona pulls objects out of the box and explains what some of them are—a snow globe from a trip to Maine, a ceramic imprint of a baby’s foot.
“That’s mine,” she says with a laugh. “Hard to believe I was that size once.”
There are other mementos that make her eyes go soft, and it’s clear this holiday holds many emotions for her. Then she pulls out a star with a tiny winged girl sitting on top.
Fiona’s eyes well up with moisture.
“Are your eyes all right?” I lean closer to get a better look.
She giggles and sniffles at the same time, wiping at her face.
“Sorry. Just… this one. It was her favorite. I saw it in a window at a thrift store when I was a kid, and she fell in love with it.”
Water drips from her eyes, and now I am very concerned.
“Fiona? You are leaking.”
She sniffles again and smiles. “It’s called crying. Humans do it when we feel strong emotions.”
I curl an arm around her shoulders and pull her close, hoping to comfort her. Khesan glares at me, but I ignore him as she leans her head on my arm and lets herself do this “crying.” When she calms down, I wipe away one of the tracks of water on her cheeks.
“Would you still like to put it on the tree?” I ask.
“Yes, please.” She gestures to the top. “It sits up there.”
I can’t quite reach on my own, and while I am looking for a stool or chair to step on, Khesan appears. He crouches and holds out his hands like a step and nods at me.
It’s the last thing I expected him to do, but I step into his hands to rise another few feet and place the star on the top of the tree. Then our work is finished, and we all stand back to admire it. Fiona links one arm in mine, then her other with Khesan.
“Thanks, guys,” she says quietly, pulling each of us closer against her. “It’s beautiful.”