Chapter 29 #2
Something about Josh having three sisters completely makes sense: from his immediate ease with Hennie and me, to his catty back-and-forths. It’s another luminous piece of the Josh puzzle.
The conversation between the five of us unfolds with ease as we make our way towards the nearest water station.
When we arrive, we fulfil the obligatory tasks for the start of a typical festival day: filling up water bottles, putting on suncream and stopping by the bathroom for anyone who needs it.
As well as looking around the food stalls to pick up what everybody is craving for breakfast. Hennie and I manage to tick an item off Josh’s Firecrest food bucket list with two crumpets each, and once again I’m grateful for the use of both of my hands.
With our bellies full, we walk on a quiet path into The Lakes area. Thick clouds gather overhead but the air feels sticky and humid, and I find myself very envious of the electric fan Josh is holding in front of himself.
‘No one touch me, it is so warm,’ he complains.
‘No one’s touching you, Ham,’ Owen says.
‘What’s going on over there?’ I ask, pointing to a deck next to one of the lakes, which is filled to the brim with people sitting cross-legged. The area is strangely quiet.
‘Looks like a meditation session,’ Owen observes.
I’m genuinely taken aback to see how many people have joined: rows and rows of people are still with their heads bowed and eyes closed. I feel like I’m intruding just looking at them.
‘That’s a pretty monstrous meditation session,’ Hennie notes.
‘I love it,’ I say, beaming.
‘Looks like it’s open for everyone, you want to join in?’ Elliot offers.
‘I’m okay, thanks. Maybe next time. I won’t force meditation on you guys.’
‘Pity. I feel like some of us could really benefit from it,’ Elliot’s voice drawls, eyeing Josh as he skips frantically to a nearby wood-working stall. He picks up what looks like an ornate magic wand and waves it over his head before pointing it at Owen, erupting into his large, distinctive grin.
Owen runs over to him, but my attention has been caught by something else just past them. My eyes wince under the sun desperately trying to peek through the clouds, and from the way Elliot watches me, he must have noticed that something has distracted me.
A small hand-made sign rests against a tree trunk that simply reads: The Wishing Tree.
The tree is just a handful of feet taller than me and adorned with hundreds, perhaps thousands, of multi-coloured ribbons tied around the branches.
Even the trunk is so adorned with ribbons that the bark beneath is no longer visible.
Something about it brings a smile to my face; seeing so much hope in one spot.
A note on the ground next to the sign reads: Tie a ribbon to the tree and make a wish!
Hennie steps next to me.
‘Cute,’ she remarks, looking up at it. ‘I like it.’
Elliot’s deep voice rumbles next to me. ‘Wanna make a wish?’
‘It looks like the wishing tree might be very busy,’ I say with a snort, gesturing to the ribbons in their abundance.
‘Room for more!’ Hennie announces, reaching down to a basket filled to the brim with ribbons. She hands us one each and steps up to the tree, tying her own to the end of a branch with a smile.
‘That was a fast wish,’ I whisper.
‘You next,’ she says with a nudge.
I toy with the blue ribbon, rubbing it between my fingers. There are so many things I want that I don’t need, and so many things I crave that are ultimately impossible.
Elliot steps forward next to tie his green ribbon to the tree in silence and then stands back again unceremoniously. The whole process takes less than five seconds. This man does not fuck around.
I stare at the green ribbon he just attached, apparently unable to tear my eyes away from it. A desperate hope cries out from somewhere inside me, and I can’t deny how much I selfishly want to wish it into existence.
It’s not an unreasonable wish, I think to myself as I slowly approach the tree.
I find a naked patch on a tree branch up high, and stretch to cover my ribbon with it. And I state the words loudly and clearly in my own mind, willing them to come true.
Please don’t let this be my last day with him.
It would be a waste of a wish to ask for Elliot to fall hopelessly in love with me, I realise. I haven’t lost my senses quite yet. But it seems like a realistic and achievable wish for us to see each other again after today. I hope.
We stand together in front of the tree for a short moment before Josh and Owen appear behind us.
‘Wow,’ Josh whispers in reverence. ‘Perhaps this is my moment to wish for Cherry Wave to do a UK tour?’
‘You can wish all you want, Ham, but the tree might not have a lot of control over a K-pop groups’ global tour schedule,’ Owen says, not unkindly.
‘Hmm,’ Ham ponders. ‘Not much point, then.’
‘Well, I know what I’m wishing for,’ Owen declares, grabbing his own ribbon from the basket and quickly tying it to the end of a branch.
Josh wriggles his eyebrows. ‘The love of a good woman?’
Owen throws a ribbon his way with a flick of his wrist. ‘Mind your business and think about your own tree wish.’
‘Fine,’ he says, stomping up to the tree and tying his ribbon to the tree trunk. From the slight flush that decorated Owen’s cheeks, I wonder if Josh’s joke had been accurate.
When Josh’s ribbon is secured he steps back for a second and places his hands on his hips, as if waiting for something to happen. After a moment he grabs his bottle of water from his backpack and unscrews the lid, leaning down to pour a generous portion of his water around the tree’s roots.
‘Ham, what are you doing?’ Elliot asks with his usual soft smirk.
‘What do you think? I’m watering our wishes,’ he replies, indignant.
I grin in response. The move is just so inexplicably Josh.
He rights himself, but within milliseconds he’s throwing himself upon Elliot with a scream of ‘your daily blessing,’ scrubbing his fist jovially into Elliot’s freshly washed hair.
Owen doesn’t hesitate to join in this time, and Elliot eventually gives into them both and takes it with a muffled sigh.
When he emerges, he rejoins my side looking delightfully rumpled. And to be totally honest, it’s taking every shred of my willpower not to thrust my fingers into the mess of his hair and grab his lovely face and kiss it.
As we bid our farewells to the wishing tree, I give it one last fond glance.
‘Who knew Firecrest Festival was where wishes came true?’ Hennie says, giving me a pointed look. I stick my tongue out at her in response as we all make our way back to the main path. And for a minute I find myself unable to look in Elliot’s direction.