Young Father roars with anger. Boon runs for his life, but Young Father catches him, and drags him to the backyard, with a huge chain and padlock.
Young Father drags Boon over so that they are right in front of the tree and forces Boon to his knees.
Fig Tree: What is father doing? Is it happening again? Boon has done nothing wrong. Nothing but to live like a child… Boon you poor thing! My figs have gone through seasons of truths and lies in this household. They’ve started to rot, slowly rotting away just like their relationship. My roots have been planted into the ground, oh how I feel so connected to this place. I never want to leave. This is my land, my soil, how can I allow something so tragic to happen again, and again, and again? The orioles that come and go every day, landing on my branches, blind to what’s happening right in front of them. The birds, the ants, they come and use me for my true purpose, but that’s what they’re for! But when father exploits my inability to retaliate, it hurts. The chains wrap around my trunk, settling comfortably in the imprint that is permanently tattooed into my bark, with no sign of fading. I never want to imagine the pain that Boon must be feeling, the cries for help and the agony in his voice painting troubling pictures in my mind. These shackles around his wrist and ankles should be around father’s instead. That’s where they belong. If only I could reach out my branches, like how a mother comforts her son, and help wipe his tears away. Just give him a small bite of my sweet fruit, make his pain end, make his screams stop.
I just want to help.