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She was always one day late. She didn’t want to be one day late, but she was always one day late. She couldn’t go there during the day because she didn’t want anyone else to see her there, and her annual Zoom calls with Sasha and Marcy that day always started in the evening and lasted far longer than any of them planned for. Whenever she was on one of them, she wanted them to never end. She told herself that it was because she was talking with her closest friends, one of whom was on the other side of the country. Who wouldn’t want to spend more time with their best friends? Deep down though, she knew that wasn’t true. Well, it wasn’t completely true. It was just one of the many half-truths she told her friends, family, and herself. She definitely did enjoy spending time with her friends, but the other reason that she never wanted these particular calls to end was that she knew that their end meant that the next night, she would have to visit the tree.
It wasn’t a particularly stunning looking tree. In fact, it looked rather normal, but even though she had visited it only nine times, tonight would be her tenth, she knew intimately each of its characteristics. The one branch that, if you squinted, looked almost like a human arm; the knot that looked like a burst pimple; the way its trunk subtly bent to form a slight C-shape, she knew all of these details and more, so as she walked down the path in the park, she was easily able to pick it out from the masses. She had chosen the tree ten years ago to the day at random. To anyone else, it was just a tree, but to her, it was a monument, a memorial, a tombstone.
“No, it’s not like that,” she said to herself as she walked down the path.
‘Don’t lie to yourself,’ said a voice inside her head. ‘You know that it is.’
“No, it’s not.”
‘Yes, it is.’
“No, it’s not!” she yelled, punching a tree in anger, but that didn’t change the fact that she knew what she said was wrong. It was a tombstone, a symbol of a life cut short far too soon, but it was that only to her. To everyone else, it was just another tree.
Speak of the devil, she could see it now. The sight of the tree almost made her turn back, as it always did after she selected it on that first walk through the park exactly ten years ago. On that day, she had decided to go for a walk to clear her head and vainly attempt to exercise away the guilt filling up her insides.
“Why do I come back? I don’t have to come back,” she said. She didn’t really know the answer to that question. Every visit was painful. (Maybe that's why she came back each year. She deserved to feel that pain.) She wanted to move on. (She didn’t deserve to move on.) She always wished she could forget about it. (Maybe the universe didn’t want her to forget.) As she approached the tree, it started to rain. Lightning flashed through the sky. “Why does it always start raining when I get here?” She didn’t know the answer to that question either.
When she approached the tree, she took out the knife she brought with her and carved another tally mark into the tree. That made ten tally marks. It had been ten years and a day.
‘Ten years and a day since I… since she….’ She broke down and fell to the ground sobbing. She always broke down sobbing after making the tally mark. Sorrow, guilt, and self-loathing flowed through her. ‘Liar, imposter, thief,’ she thought to herself. ‘You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve any of this.’ Her tears mixed with the rain. She wished that the ground would open up and swallow her whole. It’s what she deserved.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she wept. She hated herself, hated everything that she had done, hated all the lies she had told. “I’m so fucking sorry!” she wailed, but she knew it wouldn’t make a difference. No one could hear her. No one could know. She didn’t want anyone to know, because even though the guilt ate her up almost every day, she couldn’t bear to think about what would happen if somebody knew the truth.
‘You’d get what you deserve, you coward, you liar, you selfish, worthless excuse of a human being.’ She didn’t bother arguing with herself. She knew she was right.
She cried for another half an hour. It always took longer than she thought it would. When her tear ducts were dry, she stood up. She was exhausted. She was always exhausted. She wanted to go to bed and forget about that stupid tree and all that it stood for.
‘But you won’t forget. You can’t forget. You don’t deserve to forget,’ and once again, she knew she was right. She turned around, turned her back to the tree that, to anyone else, would seem like just an ordinary tree, but it was so much more than that to her. It was a cemetery of one, known only by one, the one monument to a girl who had died exactly ten years and one day ago, a girl who everyone thought was still alive and well, everyone except for one. There was one who knew the truth, and she would keep it that way. Yes, it was selfish. Yes, it was deceptive. Yes, it defiled her memory, but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t let the life she stole from her go, no matter how guilty it made her feel or how wrong it was.
“For all intents and purposes, you’re the same Anne Boonchuy,” the guardian had said, but Anne knew that wasn’t true. That wasn’t true at all. The real Anne Boonchuy was dead, dust tossed by the winds of Amphibia. She was just a clone, a copy, an imposter, and she hated herself for it. As she walked back to her apartment, she took one last look at the tree that represented so much to her, so many secrets, and she knew that in exactly one year, she would see that tree again.