THE GIRL IN THE TREE
By Devon Pike
Creative Nonfiction
There is a girl in the tree. I don’t notice her at first since she is not mine to look after. Her
hair is not my color, her skin olive where mine is pale. She doesn’t have my eyes.
But still, she is in the tree. And I am on the ground, not noticing her.
“Look at me,” she says proudly. “Look what I can do, I’ve climbed so high, way past where my brother can go. I am almost to the sky now, and it is beautiful here. I am beautiful here. Just look at me!” she says, but no one is looking.
No one is looking.
“Help me.” The girl in the tree calls quiet at first. Then louder, and louder still with my not noticing. First, she is just a feeling, and next, she is under my skin, and then she is in my ear, and now I am noticing her, this girl who is adamant, fearless, beautiful, and strong.
Adamant and fearless and beautiful and strong and suddenly none of those things because now she is only one thing, only scared.
“Help me!” she cries out, and I am running now, first the right foot, then the left and now the right again, moving of their own accord because, of course, the girl is in the tree. Just four steps left, now three, now two, now one. And now I am there, now I am at the tree, now we are there together, the girl in the tree and me, it is just us, just her and me, just me and the
girl in the tree.
I reach up to help her, falling short, doubling back. In the moment it takes to fail, I wonder, if you touch a girl in a tree who is not your girl and no one sees you, did it really happen? Does it really count, the touch? If you’re not wearing a mask, haven’t showered in days, don’t even own a bottle of Purell, if your hands are full of grease from your own daughter’s bicycle chain, if you are supposed to know better, what then? Does it count then? When the choice is a certain fall or an uncertain touch, is it even really a choice?
“Please help me,” whispers the girl in the tree who is not my girl. The girl in the tree who is scared, the girl in the tree who I will touch when no one is looking whether it counts or not, but I don’t hear her in my ears, I am already climbing.
A sharp branch breaks the skin on my leg, and tomorrow I will notice the scab looks like the new moon, but today I am just climbing. Today I will help her. Today I will touch the girl in the tree with my dirty hands in this unclean world. Today I will climb up to meet her where she is, past where her brother can go, almost to the sky where everything is beautiful. And I will help her back down to the ground where it is not, at least not in this quarantine moment.
The Author
Tennessee born, Ohio raised, Devon Pike lives and writes in Rowayton, Connecticut with her 8-year-old daughter Grayson and their black lab Stormy. Devon has a deep love for storytelling, and its power to transport, inspire and create shared experiences. The Girl in the Tree is her first published work.
In addition to her writing, Devon is a leader in the fashion and retail industry, known for several transformational roles including the launch of the Rugby by Ralph Lauren lifestyle brand and Juicy Couture’s digital business, CEO DeBeers North America, President of Givenchy North America, and most recently Chief Merchandising Officer for Gap. She holds a BA in Comparative Literature from Brown University and MBA from the Harvard Business School.
