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The trees in the garden have seen a lot of things.
The house has been empty for a couple of years, now. They’ve watched as people come and go, repairmen with ladders and plumbers with their vans disappearing in and out of the little place that they call home. They’ve watched as the realtors put their hands on their hips and stared at it, bringing people to live in it and call it a home. The gardeners come in to water them every once in a while when they go weeks without rain in Bangkok, but that’s all the human interaction they get for some years. The realtors seem to be more exhausted every time they come back, bringing people of all backgrounds to look at the house. The trees know what they say off by heart now, the fake enthusiasm in their voices coming up to the forefront whenever they lead potential buyers through the garden and the house. Two habitable floors, two bedrooms, storage space in the basement, renovations done a year ago, neighbourhood is friendly… they’ve heard it all. After seeing everyone drift in and out, they’ve pretty much expected for the house to stay empty forever. They can barely remember the old tenants anymore, but flashes of children dart through their memories. So they give up, waiting for the rain and the realtors to come in every two weeks with yet another person who’s seen the advertisement on the gate, and who looks around and doesn’t buy it anyway.
Until he arrives.
The first glimpse they get of Kao is him fiddling with his fingers and looking up at them as he stands next to the realtor. He looks very small to them, but then again, everyone does. They don’t pay him much attention, really, as he walks around the garden, peering at all of the fresh little flowers that have newly sprung from the earth, running his hands over the tree bark, looking at the gate and its height and if it’d provide any privacy. This is normal. This is expected. This is what everyone does when they come here.
They pay him no heed until he says, “The garden seems well-maintained, even though you said the house hasn’t been lived in for a while. I mean, the trees are flourishing.”
“We have gardeners that come in every once in a while,” says the realtor, standing a bit away. She smiles up at the trees. “They were planted by the last family who lived here.”
“Why did they move?” asks Kao, hands behind his back.
“Different country,” she says. “You know how it is. Well, renovations have been done a couple years ago, the neighbours are around your age, and the garden is fairly easy to maintain. It rains a lot around here, more than it does in the middle of Bangkok.”
Kao hums. “Yes, I’ve noticed,” he says, looking up at the sky. “It’s very quiet out here, isn’t it?”
The realtor raises an eyebrow at him. “Well, it is the outskirts of Bangkok,” she says, glancing back at the house nervously. The trees flutter in the wind. Nobody has ever spent so long in the garden before. “Do you work around here?”
Something lovely happens just then, something the trees haven’t seen for very long. The corner of Kao’s mouth pulls into a smile as he turns to the realtor. “I work at the school twenty minutes away,” he says, brightening. “One of the reasons we wanted to move to a house near here.”
The realtor perks up. “We?” she repeats, latching onto that. “You know, a family with children lived here last -- there are schools in the area, as I’m sure you know, being a teacher and all, so it would be a nice fit for you. They didn’t join you today?”
This is the part that the trees are intrigued about. The thing about being alone for so long is that they’ve grown used to human voices, only to have them ripped away so suddenly. They hear voices from the main street every once in a while, but it isn’t the same as children running around in the garden and digging up the soil to plant pots with dirty hands. Looking back, knowing everything they know about Kao, they think this part was brave for him. They watch him as he fiddles with the hem of his shirt and he says, “It’s my day off, my boyfriend is at work.”
The wind ripples through the leaves as the trees bend closer to listen. The realtor’s eyes only widen for a fraction of a second before she says, “Oh, that’s nice. Do you have kids? It would be nice to have a family here again, it was one of their wishes before they left.”
Kao smiles. “Not yet,” he says, gesturing at the house. “Can I see the inside? Pete -- my boyfriend -- will have to take a look at it, too, before we make any decisions, but we thought it would be nice to have a premature look.”
“Of course you can,” says the realtor, and the trees sway against the wind as she talks about the square feet, the renovation details, and everything else that comes with the house. The trees tune her out as the leaves rustle. Something about the way this new man -- Kao, they would learn later -- looked up at them and smiled seems like things could be different. It will take a while before anything is settled.
Until then, the trees will sway in the wind and wait.
Pete and Kao do end up moving in, against all the odds. The trees find out when a van pulls up and they see the nice man from before jump out of the car behind it, tugging another man with a billowing coat behind him. They’ve seen Pete before, when he came to check out the house, and though they’ve only seen Kao once -- he seems worthy of him. He had taken a look at the garden and said, “You know, we could get the gang to come over and have dinner here in the summers, put a nice table out. Maybe even hang a swing from one of the trees.” That exchange had made him a good one in their book.
So life goes on. Pete and Kao move in, lugging tables and couches and cardboard boxes into the house, have the keys pressed into their hands by the realtor, and make this place their home. Kao takes to gardening, digging up the soil in order to plant tomatoes and mint and chilis, his hands getting caked with dirt until Pete strolls out into the garden and suggests he get some gardening gloves. They do the next day, and Pete joins in. They wheel in shovels and packets of seed and potted plants from the stores, carefully unpotting and planting a little vegetable patch in their garden. The trees watch -- almost fondly -- as Pete cuts a single rose out of the rose plant with caution while Kao’s back is turned and presents it to him between his teeth. Kao swats him affectionately, then cuts off the stem just to the top, leaving enough for him to be able to tuck it around Pete’s ear. Pete ducks his head, his cheeks reddening.
He reaches out to shove him, and Kao falls elbow-first into the grass. “Pete!” he yells, good-natured, and Pete lunges for him as they roll around on the ground. If the trees could smile, they would. Pete and Kao seem to be in their late twenties -- they know Kao is a teacher at a high school, who has a class of his own and teaches maths and chemistry to children that seem to be only interested in it because he is a wonderful teacher, or at least that’s what he says. Pete works at an office job, in sales -- they know that because he complained about it when the sun had set yesterday, but it didn’t seem all that serious. They’re in their late twenties, but in these moments, they’re just like children.
Pete flops down next to Kao, holding a dirty hand up in front of his face to shield him from the sun. The rose, impossibly, stays tucked around his ear. He supports himself on his elbow to gaze down at Kao. “Why are you so cute, Kao?” he asks, and Kao shrugs at him, smiling.
“I am who I am,” he says, and Pete leans down to kiss him. The trees rustle in the wind, keeping watch over the two. It’s been a long time since anyone has laughed in this garden. They get back to unpotting and planting, mumbling things underneath their breath to one another. Unpotting and planting.
After a while, Pete sits back and sighs. “We need to get a nice little table for outside,” he says, looking at the garden. He puts his hands out, thumb and index fingers spreading out to frame the green ground in front of him. “Wouldn’t it be just perfect there?”
“Mm, why do we need a table for outside?” asks Kao, leaning against him and closing his eyes. He seems tired, but that’s the thing about love. The trees have seen it in many ways: between the husband and wife who lived here last and how he used to massage her shoulders when she was dropping into sleep, between the children who dreamt on the grass together during the hot and dry summers, between the rain and themselves as it nourishes them. The thing about love is that it keeps you warm and safe, even when your eyes are slipping shut. It energises you, in a way.
Pete curls a hand around his waist. “Well,” he says, “I’m thinking we can get everyone to come over for our anniversary next week. What do you think?”
Kao blinks up at him. “What do you mean, everyone?”
“I have some relatives living around here,” says Pete, looking up at the sky. “You know, some of my cousins. We could invite them all for a big dinner.”
“Do they know?” asks Kao, hesitantly. He curls closer to Pete, like he’s protecting him from something. The trees understand. “About us, I mean.”
“You know I’ve never cared what people think about that,” says Pete, tucking his head into the crook of his neck. “Besides, they’d have to find out at some point. They can continue to brag about their kids’ achievements or whatever -- and I can brag about my boyfriend.”
Kao laughs, shaking his head. “I’m not exactly brag-worthy, Pete,” he says. Pete detaches himself from Kao to look at him incredulously. “Okay -- no, don’t start now.”
“I could talk about you all day,” says Pete, scoffing as he leans back into him. Pete doesn’t see it then, but the trees catch it, all-knowing. When he looks back to where he wants to put the table, Kao turns to him and a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. His eyes seem to soften in the light, catching the wind’s breath. It is then that they realise how much Kao seems to love Pete. “So, should we go to the shop tomorrow? We can decorate the trees as well.”
Kao hums. “Okay,” he says, and they sit like that for a while before getting back to unpotting and planting. The trees keep watch, like they always do.
It’s been a long time since a new one has been added to their midst.
The day starts out with Pete and Kao watering the plants and then playing around with the hose, shampooing their hair and washing it off of each other. Kao latches onto Pete, more affectionate than usual when he pulls him closer after Pete sneezes, drying his hair with care, kissing him on the forehead. The trees lean forward, curious as they disappear into the house, returning with matching red shirts and going out. The day passes, the sun reaching its zenith in the middle of the day and drifting back down, streaking the sky colours of pink and orange, like someone had dipped their paint into it. When day sinks into dark night, the moon peeking out from behind the clouds, their boys return. They’re laughing, knocking shoulders with each other as they cross the gate, and their free hands tangling against their hips. Pete has something balanced on his waist that he sets down as they enter the house, like they’re teenagers. The trees know, because they’ve seen many over the years. They peer at the pot, curiously wondering if it’s another plant that Kao would unpot and pack into the dirt with the most gentle hands, or if it’s something Pete bought on an impulse because it reminded him of Kao. They think Pete’s close to proposing, sometimes. He gets this look in his eyes, pats his pocket nervously whenever the sun sets and Kao is nice and close to him.
Maybe the ring is hidden in the dirt. If it is, it’s a terrible idea and Kao is going to bury it into the ground.
The ring doesn’t end up being a factor at all. Kao wanders out to the garden after a while with the pot, a little beginning of a tangerine tree shooting up from the dirt. The leaves rustle in the wind as he does. It has been a very long time since a new one was added to their midst, anyway. Tangerines bring luck and good fortune -- and that is exactly what Pete and Kao deserve. Inexplicably, the wind is kinder to them, the earth softer beneath their feet, their sky blessing them with soft yet vibrant colours whenever they sit on the porch, shoulder-to-shoulder, and watch the sun set. Perhaps they have always been blessed, in the way humans are, with the capability to love endlessly. He unpots the plant with the gardening gloves Pete had bought him, crouching down as he pats the soil.
They watch as Pete drifts out with the hose. “Are you planting the tangerine?” he asks, kneeling down next to it. “Let’s hope it takes well.”
Kao sits back on the ground. “We need to name it, don’t we?” he asks. Pete sprays the hose on him, and Kao lunges forward to yank it away from him. “ Pete !”
Pete grins back at him, face young and thrilled. He walks out every morning out of his house in a crisp shirt and a suit jacket, looking mostly harried as he heads to his car; very much an adult going to work. Now, however, and it seems to normally be the case with Kao, he looks younger and opener, like the whole world is open to him in only Kao’s smile. “What is it?” says Pete, like he’s done nothing. Kao rolls his eyes and attends to the tree again, brushing the soil over the roots.
“Nothing,” says Kao, as Pete shoots some water at the soil, just enough. He looks down at the plant, cupping the leaves with his hands. “Let’s hope this tree grows big and strong. Fast enough for us to pluck tangerines at some point soon.”
Pete nods, looking at him. “We could make a pie out of them,” he says, glancing at the plant.
This one’ll grow quickly. They can feel it in the tips of their leaves and the toes of their trunk.
As the months turn to years, with the trees shivering in the winter and blooming again in the spring, Pete and Kao stay. The vegetable patch flourishes in the spring, yielding tomatoes and mint and everything else Kao had so painstakingly planted and watered over the late few months. The house becomes a home, as they set up that table in the backyard and invite their friends over for dinner one day. It has never been so loud, warm, and cheerful out in this garden. Pete and Kao decide to hang a little swing from one of the sturdy tree branches, and they support Kao whenever he comes outside, stressed. The tangerine tree grows and doesn’t stop growing, yielding fruit by the second spring and when Pete and Kao have been in the house for two years already. Suddenly, the trees realise that they’re going to stay.
They get married. The trees know because they both propose to each other in the garden at the same time, finally, and dissolve into piercing laughter afterwards. For the next few months, wedding planning is afoot. They spread out papers on the table outside, Kao makes calls to venues and Pete squints at the drafts of invitations, they ask for auspicious dates, their friend Sandee comes around for cake tasting and arrangement of flowers, their friend Mork comes around for the attire. They both seem more stressed every day, the frown lines in their foreheads becoming almost permanent, but their smiles seep out every evening, too.
One day, Pete says, “Can you believe that I get to call you my husband in a few days?”
Kao smiles, his face lightening. “You’re going to be insufferable about it, aren’t you?” he asks, putting the papers away into a binder.
“I think I’m allowed,” says Pete, looking back at him with a gaze so fond, nothing could make it softer.
So the days pass. Pete and Kao get married, and it’s wonderful. They have the reception afterwards in their garden with the people they love most, plucking tangerine from the now quickly growing tree. They dance in their shirts and jackets but barefoot in the grass to Mork playing the guitar for them, quiet and fond when Pete tucks his head into the crook of Kao’s neck. It’s swaying more than dancing, but it’s warm. The weather has been kind to them, as nature always is, and has bestowed them with sunny skies and a perfect golden hour as the sun dips back into the horizon. It casts everyone they love into the most ethereal light, making them softer and kinder. Joy is etched into their faces. The trees continue rustling in the wind -- it’s been a long time coming.
The story doesn’t end there. For a while, it seems like things are going just as usual. Life moves on, the sun rises and sets every day, the grass grows until Pete realises it does and mows it down one day, the tangerine tree keeps yielding fruit, so much so that Kao keeps baking pies and sending them out to friends, who probably never want to look at tangerines ever again, and Pete jokes about him starting a little bakery business next to teaching. For another couple of years, as they settle into married life and spend more time in the garden when they’re free than not. Pete likes to do his work outside now, going over presentations and checking slides at the table with a cup of coffee, curled up into a blanket during the colder months. Kao continues gardening, still, trying his hand out with flowers when he’s on break and has a spare day off. So life goes on, just like that. The trees barely know a time when Pete and Kao weren’t living in the pretty little house they’re a part of, going in and out and watching the sunset whenever they can, sitting outside on the porch with their dinners in their laps. It’s heartwarming to see them grow up, settle into their adulthood, and return to each other at the end of it all. They think it’ll be like this forever, just Pete and Kao living together and planting something every week.
But, as life has a tendency to, things change. The trees first catch wind of it the week before the change happens, when Pete and Kao are once again sitting at the wooden table on a weekend. Pete has his legs stretched out over Kao’s lap, who’s going through lesson plans. Kao is humming something to himself, the same tune he’s been humming ever since they moved in here. He breaks off to say, “Are you nervous?”
Pete looks up. “Nervous?” he asks. “I -- I suppose so. I guess I’m scared that it won’t work out. That she won’t like it here, with us. I mean, it’s going to be different moving her home, isn’t it?”
Kao curls a finger around Pete’s. “It’ll be different,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean it’ll be awkward or bad, necessarily. It’ll just take some getting used to.”
“She likes us,” says Pete, and it sounds like he’s trying to reassure himself. “We’ve seen her lots of times, we’ve taken her out to other places, P’Dome said it’s time, and that she’s ready too.”
Kao squints at him. “He did say that,” he says. “What are you really scared of?”
Pete exhales, and doesn’t say anything for very long. The wind picks up. “I’m just scared that I’ll mess it up,” he finally manages. “I’m scared I’ll mess it up.”
“You won’t,” says Kao, with this kind of surety in his voice that has never been present in it before. “You won’t, because you’re trying. And even if you do… it doesn’t matter as long as you try to make it right, you know?”
Pete’s mouth ends up in a little smile, and he then kisses Kao. The trees keep watch and look away -- they’ll figure out what the change is soon. For now, what they have is personal, and all they need is someone to keep watch over them.
“ Por ,” says Achara, as she drifts back and forth on the swing. It’s been ten years -- she is sixteen now -- since the change. The trees still see her as a little girl sometimes, hair pulled back in ponytails that Pete and Kao tie again at least five times a day, before they shake loose anyway. She grew up playing basketball in the garden with her father and his best friend -- her P’Mork -- and brought much needed little squeals of laughter to the house. Her childhood toys still litter the garden, the little plastic pool and the small slide and the swing that she’s been getting use out of for the past ten years. Pete and Kao have never rolled their eyes more, but still -- they’ve never been happier. “ Por , are you listening?”
Kao looks up from where he’s sitting at the table, frowning at his book. It’s the time of evening where he takes his contact lenses out and wears his round, black-rimmed glasses instead, making him look softer and younger. “I am,” he says, as he goes back to tap at his keyboard. “Are you okay?”
She nods, curling up against the swing as it floats to a stop. “I’m fine. I have a presentation tomorrow, can I practice with you later?” she asks. Kao laughs.
“You know your dad does that for a living,” he says, jerking his head at Pete, who’s sitting next to him and staring at his laptop screen, zoned out completely.
Achara shrugs. “You know Pa,” she says. Pete’s eyes snap to attention, then.
“Do you need help with a presentation?” he asks, and Achara nods. Pete shakes his head, looking back at his laptop. “You’re better off asking your father then.”
Kao and Achara share a meaningful look, and silence settles between the three of them. The last ten years have been a blessing, the trees have noticed. The house seems more alive, a home. Achara fiddles with the hem of her T-shirt, then. “Can I ask you two something?” she starts, hesitantly. Pete looks up at her and closes his laptop as she moves from the swing to the table, on the other side. Kao tucks a bookmark into the page he’s reading.
“Of course you can, little tangerine,” says Pete, reaching over to pat her hand. The nickname originated ten years ago, back when the tangerine tree was still a little smaller, yet producing enough fruit for Kao to annoy everyone who knows him with tangerines and pie. Achara had been, and still is, the only one to enjoy the pies. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong ,” she says, looking down at her hands on the table. “Well. It’s just that… Pa. Por . I’m sixteen now.”
“Time flies,” mumbles Kao under his breath. The trees rustle in agreement.
“I’m sixteen now,” repeats Achara, tapping her fingers on the table and worrying her lip between her teeth. “Is it okay if I go on a date after school tomorrow?”
Pete blinks at her. “You what?” he asks, leaning forward. “Who are you going with? Have we met them? We need to meet them before you do, we need their parents’ --”
“Pete, calm down,” says Kao, placing a hand on his arm before turning to his daughter with kind eyes. “Who are you going with, tii rak ?”
“My presentation partner asked me out,” she says, and suddenly she has her chin up, defiant. It’s more like Pete than anything -- the stubbornness, the will to stand up for herself. “Mook. You know her.”
To Kao’s defense, he only falters for a moment before he brightens. “Mook! Oh, she’s such a sweet girl,” he says, grinning. “Isn’t she, Pete?”
Pete crosses his arms. “Yeah, I guess she is,” he grumbles, before straightening. “You make sure to bring her around before you go out, okay? I want to get to know her better if you’re going to be dating her.”
Achara groans, pinching her temple. “Pa, you know her already,” she says. “Where do you think we should go? What did you two do for your first date?”
Pete and Kao glance at each other like they’re remembering something, and small smiles lift at the corner of both of their mouths, before Kao is turning back and shaking his head. “I think it would be to everyone’s benefit if you didn’t take inspiration from our early relationship, Achara,” he says. Pete struggles to smother a laugh, but manages to reach out and take her hand.
“Thank you for telling us, okay?” he says. “You’re all grown up now! Look at you, going on dates. You know, when I was your age -- “
“We don’t need to talk about everything you got up to when you were sixteen,” says Kao, rolling his eyes. “Be safe, okay? Tell us where you’re going, take pepper spray, call us if things go wrong. Mook is a nice girl. I’m sure you’ll have lots of fun!”
“If somebody says anything -- “
Kao cuts him off. “If somebody says anything, I think Achara can take care of it herself.” He glances at her. “Right?”
“What were my judo classes for, por ?” she says, and they laugh at that, which means things are okay and that the conversation moves on to different topics.
The trees continue keeping watch, like they’ve done for the past decade and a half. The wind is kind to them, the plants flourishing in front of them, the sun shining upon them every day. Life goes on. As difficult and lonely as things were, they’ve changed in the blink of an eye. The garden isn’t empty anymore, much less the house, both decorated and made lovely and into a home by two men who love each other and their daughter more than anything else in the world. Every week, their friends come over with their own warmth and plates and pots of food, setting everything up neatly on the table and laughing loudly and joking around as the day stretches into long night, as things are meant to be. This garden was meant to be loved, this house was meant to be lived in -- and now after such a long time, it finally is.
Kao will keep planting more vegetables in this garden with care. Pete will remember to mow the grass every so often, keeping his husband company and buying him gardening supplies. Achara will drift back and forth on the swing, teasing her fathers.
And the trees? The trees will keep watch for as long as they need to. Such is the way of life -- and they’ve never grown stronger.