Fiction Friday – The Lemon Tree

The Lemon Tree

He sits on the backstep, a cup of tea, half-drunk, in his left hand, with the kelpie-cross eyeballing the tennis ball in his right. The tennis ball is launched down the backyard. The kelpie pivots and pursues it, skidding to a halt under the lemon tree in the back corner of the yard. The tree was a gift from his father when they moved in ten years ago, and along with it, some jars of lemon butter from his father’s own tree. Lemon butter. The taste of it was the bitter prick of thorns on the tree and his father’s tongue. When he and his older brother were kids, they took a piss against their father’s tree thinking as an act of rebellion. Looking back, he reckons it probably produced a better crop of lemons each year, and wonders if he should stand in front of the tree and teach his boy to take a whizz on it if he felt the need. The kelpie trots back, tennis ball in its mouth, and drops it at his feet. He offers the dog the last of his cup of tea. The dog laps from the cup. When the dog is finished he picks up the tennis ball and throws it towards the lemon tree again.