Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Sissy Story Archives (older stories) => 2011-2018 Sissy Stories => Topic started by: teddi on March 07, 2008, 05:43:53 PM
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Chapter 1
I was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a soda when Mom spoke: "Christopher, would you please go up to your room and sort out all of your old clothes, we're going to give some of the one's that don't fit or are too out of style away: that includes underwear too, so get going. Anyhow I need to speak with your sister about certain school matters." I thought nothing of it and went straight about doing what she had asked.
First to go were the "T" shirts with holes in them, then the ratty underpants: some boxers but mostly my briefs. Several pair of pants were flung off to the side as well as five of my collered shirts. Socks soon were added to the pile. Some had holes but most wouldnt fit so I chucked them. I culled out some ball caps - they wouldn"t fit or were too babbyish. Finally some of the sneakers had to go - holes in the sides or dirty as can be without a chance of washing. I made my way back down to the kitchen.
I could just barely make out the smell of Mom's string bean casserole and pork chops she was baking. As I walked in I started to talk. "Gosh Mom that is really smelling awsome and......" I started to shake my head and turned to look at Christina......"Ohhh no, I'm not and neither are you!
She shot me a quick look then moved her eyes to Mom. She was just as shocked as I was - not expecting me to read her so fast. I yelled at Christy, "No way....I'm not going with some dumb girl and you can't make me and that's that! I turned to Mom. "MOM!...do you know what she was thinking, she wanted me to go with some girl to school and I'm not gonna do it. And even if I thought about it, I don't know this girl, Melinda, and I don't want too!!!!
With that explosion I quickly turned to leave and was caught just short of the kitchen entry by Moms voice. "Christopher, you just stop right where you are and turn around right now. I shook my head, and thought to myself- NO WAY! Mom's voice was louder now. "I will not ask you again. You will stop right there, turn around and sit down at this table (she pointed to the kitchen nook area).
Slowly I complied while at the same time began to tear. "Mom, this is not fair and why should she start this before school and who told her she could anyway? I'm not a little kid and I sure don't want to hang around with any dumb girl!"
Mom looked at Christy, who at this point begain to tear up and whose face now was a beet red. Mom shook her head from side to side and spoke directly and firmly to her. I just finished speaking with you and now I find out that you had already done this? Did I not tell you specifically not to make any such arrangements until I and your father had spoken with Chris. Besides, you know how Chris is when it comes to things that directly concern him where you are concerned and what happens if you two are not seperated by distance. How on earth did you think that he wouldn't pick up on this? Now we have a big mess to unravel and it's your doing. You will rectify this immediately and I will expect this to be done by tomorrow afternoon. Is that clear young lady? A truly embarrased Christy could only mutter "yes Mom, absolutely." Mom continued: "this is not what we expected, I am deeply upset by this and when your father finds out, well you can expect to pay the consequences.
Mom turned to me and sat at the table beside me, placed her hands on mine, I tried to pull them away but she held on firmly then spoke. "Chris, I am truly sorry about all this, Christina was under our direct orders not to arrainge any guide assignments until we had spoken with you and you had consented" Christy interjected, Chris I"m really sorry and I didn't mean to upset you or..." I cut her off "oh sure, like I'm gonna get right up and give hugs to you...a....a....back stabber!! You know how I feel about girls and that kind of stuff...leave me alone! and for Gods sake dont think about it anymore!!!
I began to cry in earnest. Mom began to hug me and kinda whispered in a loud way that it was "going to be o.k. and that most boys my age feel this way about girls and...." "But Mom ....I was sobbing...she was thinking how cute I'd look and stuff like that and, and, sh....sh.....she was gonna fix me up - whatever that means." I was in full tear mode and Mom wasn't going to be able to stop it. She gently pulled me to her and said "you need a big time out, lets get you back to your room and you can lay down until dinners ready. O.K? I nodded yes and let her lead me upstairs where she then told me to lay back and try to relax and that she would take off my shoes. She took a coverlet and laid it on me and told me to take a nap - like if I could, really ( or so I thought ) 5 minutes later I was out and was awakened by both Mom and Dad.
Oh God!!! I had wet my pants!
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Oh no I thought to myself. I peed myself in bed asleep. I could feel the warm dampness under the coverlet. And worse yet Mom and Dad were right there. Looking down at me. I tried to talk but instead, I started to cry...but just a little bit.
Dad spoke first: "what's with the tears Chris? I know Christy upset you but it has been almost two hours since that happened. You slept through quite a dinner, but, I had no idea it was that serious." I gulped back my response. "D..dad it's alot w.w.worse than y..you know and and I ..I d.don't w.w..want you to get angry at m..me but can I t ..t.. talk to just M...m..mom for right now? Huh? P please?
He gave me a quizical look (I hadn't stuttered for a long, long time) turning his head to Mom and with a smile coupled in a gentle voice said "that's o.k and I won't get mad or angy. Looks like your the one he's graced with his thoughts for now - I'll see you downstairs." He gave her a kiss on the cheek and whispered "looks serious." Mom nodded. "Eric, if you please, fix Christopher's plate for dinner. We both will be down shortly." She looked from Dad to me: "Right Chris?" I nodded and softly uttered an "uh huh."
Dad went downstairs and Mom sat on the bed beside me and asked, with a smile: "o.k. what do you want to tell me?" I sometimes stutter when I get......uh.....upset....and this was definitely upsetting. "M m m mom...I...uh..I ......my voice trailed off as I lifted the coverlet and showed her what had happended because I couldn't talk without, well, stuttering.
Of course I cried some more, o.k., I cried alot harder and was really, really ashamed of what had happened. M ..m ...mom ...I...I ..I'm sorry, honest." She bent closer and cradled me in her arms while I sobbed and whispered "Chris, you poor darling. Let mommy help you: o.k.? I suppose you might call that a rhetorical question because I knew she would. "Come on now, lets get you out of bed and cleaned up. Take off those pants and underpants and your shirt...I'll start the shower for you and while you clean yourself off - I'll strip the sheets. This won't take long and when you get out you can dress in something comfortable." I was calming down and sniffled back a couple of boogers and whispered "k."
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I had stripped off my wet clothes and placed them in the sink off to the side of the shower. Mom came in moments later and picked them up telling me that when I got out of the shower she would help dress me. I knew what this meant - and I wasn't the least bit happy about it.
While washing my hair, I sighed with remorse as not only had I now embarresed myself but I knew that Christina had been punished and was also crying as she wrote me a letter of appology. I soaped off what little male assests I had and went on with the rest of me.
Her thoughts hit me as she continued to pen her letter to me. I started to cry again. Christina, my sister, confidant and closest friend was abjectly and unconditionally beside herself. I understood also, that the promises we both made to each other four years ago needed to be terminated or greatly amended. This was not her desire but mine. I would have to face whatever came my way and not hurt her again.
My name calling (which hurt her greatly) was especially, now in my own eyes, unwarranted and uncalled for. I realized that she had done no such thing and had in fact gone out of her way to smooth the road out for me....of course that she had done this without my or my parents knowledge was enough to earn her five hard swats with the paddle; she couldnt date for two months and was grounded for three weeks.
I also began to realize that the more upset or concerned she was - the easier it was for me to read her.
I finished washing off and stepped out over the tub side wall onto the coral colored bathroom rug, grabbed my towel and began to dry my self. I heard Mom's voice telling me to "just dry your body off and I"ll take care of your hair."
Damn. Damn. Damn. Silently, I cursed myself out. I began to rationalize and fight within myself. The stark reality was that I, me and only myself could solve what had begun four years ago. Yes, Christina would help and I knew both of my parents would too, yet the stunning come to terms admissions of what was to occur left me both breathless yet amazingly calm. I would later find out that's what you call a catharsis.
I resolved to be strong.
Mom was waiting for me as I came out of the shower. "M..m ..mom do I.. I..uh..really h..have to - wear that?" I pointed to what she held: a very thick disposable diaper. I continued to plead my case...."b.but, I..uh..I..." It was useless, even I couldn't justify Mom not diapering me. I knew that what I had done was due to stress. I shut up and didn,t say anything else. Why argue with the inevitable.
In moments, Mom had powdered and diapered me. Yeh, diapered by my Mom again and, good lord, coddled like a baby. She was speaking real soft and told me that "sometimes these things happened" and that of course she "had seen me before." All of her kindness did not erase the shame I felt.
She motioned me over to the dresser, told me to sit and that she would dry my hair. Again I tried to protest but, she would not hear of it. I told her I could do it myself yet she continued to brush and blow dry it. By the time she finished, while it was indeed dry it appeared to be a little girlish. I shook my head and muttered "Mom, you didn't have to dry it like....like...this!" She merely smiled and said it was time to go down stairs.
Geez. Dad was down there and now and.....well until the doctor had diagnosed me with two types of in-con-ti -nance he would get real angry with me. I turned to Mom: "is Dad gonna get mad at me?
"I honestly doubt it Chris, but perhaps it's best to avoid the matter. I don't believe you need to tell him. o.k?" She presented me with my bathrobe (blue) and I put it on. The robe itself wasn't what I would call boyish. It was more of a powder blue and looked more like what a girl would wear. I closed the robe around me and firmly tied the sash so as not to let the robe fly open.
We worked our way down the stairway. I held fast to the right rail and was really conscious of the events that were to be unfolding in but a few short minutes.
Dad had forgone the nook area and had set me up in the dining room. My plate was centered on the table with a glass of milk beside it to the upper right.
Dad started to speak. "Are you o.k Chris?
I shrugged my shoulders, lowered my head to the right. As I stood there my eyes started to tear again. I shook my head from side to side and took a deep breath which I released with an audible sigh. I barely got "N..no sir" out. I pointed to my robe and opened both sides so dad could see what I was wearing.
Dad did not say a word but looked at Mom. She nodded yes then began speaking to me. "Chris didn't I tell you that you did not have to say anything?" I couldn't look at either of them but slowly and quietly replied. "Yes Mom - you did. But I had promised Dad that I would not lie to him about anything...so.....if I purposely did not tell him I would be deceiving him....while I wouldn't be lying I also would not be telling him the truth. If you want to punish me for not listening to you - o.k. - and Dad.....if you get mad at me...I understand." Wow I had gone through all of that without a stutter - that was something!
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I had spoken respectfully and with consideration of both what my father expected of me and of what I knew would occur if I did not. Also, that if Mom so desired, she would also punish me, and that I would not be without diapers for many days. The prospect of that worried me as well. The stillness and silence lingered for several seconds, yet to me, it seemed an eternity. I awaited some response from either of them - the air conditioning vent above me presented us with a cool breeze. At long last Mom spoke: "Christopher, I am not angry with you. In fact I am very proud of you." Before her last word was spoken Dad was moving towards me. I flinched as he knelt beside me and was quickly extending both of his hands to clasp my shoulders. I read the puzzlement in his face at my instinctive flinch backwards and almost at the same moment his realization of why I did it. That was his normal angry with me method of getting me to give him my complete attention. I had never seen him cry but his eyes started to puddle up. As he held my shoulders he spoke, ever so slowly and surprisingly with affection. "No, son I am not mad at you. And I truly am sorry for the way I yelled at you in the past. No, it is just the opposite - I am proud, extremely proud that you stood like a young man and spoke to me that way." I nodded my head and broke a little smile while lowering my head and heaved a great sigh of relief. I was turning to look at Mom, saw her smiling face, then realized that I was cutting loose again - no dry diaper now. I shook my head while my brief smile turned to a distinct frown and grimace and muttered "oh geez."
She nodded her head in complete understanding of what had happened. I turned back to look at Dad's face. "Dad? Can I ask you a couple of questions before I eat dinner? "Of course -why did you need to ask that?" I shook my head as if no particular reason would prompt me too. "Well," I began, "for starters I was worried that you would not let me go to my martial arts class." His reply was quick and surprisingly made me happy. "Ohhh no Chris, you've done nothing that would warrant that action. Have you?" Whisperingand moving my head from side to side I said .. "uh..dont't think so Dad." He wouldn't let me say anything else as he held up his hand, palm towards me, to silence me. He continued "make you quit - no such thing will happen. I spoke with Master Su about you. I was worried that you might have difficulties with his regimine. Instead, he informed me that you were according to his exact words "a student he has seldom seen. Your son is quick of mind to grasp the intricacies of the arts. He is surprisingly quick, agile and quite determined in his concentration to whatever forms of the art he is, and I say this humbly "challenged with" There is no challenge to difficult that I present to him. His hand and eye co-ordination are beyound what you would expect and his foot speed is remarkable. And if all of that is insufficient to turn your head - where you think there is weakness because of his slight build there is instead exceptional strength. No. No. At present there are no difficulties."
I was stunned at Dad's telling me this about what Master Su thought of me. While I was extremly pleased something didn't seem right. Especially to me. Damn sometimes I struggled just to get the garbage out. Exceptional strength!! I think he was blowing wind up my Dad's butt. I suppose he didn't want to lose a meal ticket.
In any event I began to beam. A brief smile of contentment and satisfaction crossed my face - that at least - if only for monetay reasons someone else (besides my family) had paid attention to me an was pleased.
"D..dad? After I finish my dinner can we have a real family meeting - I need Christina to be here for it and....uh...well...when...I..I mean that w..when w..we begin tha...that uh...neither y..you or M..mom interrupt either of, of.. uh .... us? And, and uh wh--what y..you b..both are ..gonna h..hear is the, the truth. H..honest!
This time both Mom and Dad looked perplexed. I waited for the reply which I presumed would be yes. I was not dissapointed. "Yes Cris and yes son," were the only words heard. I nodded my head several time in appreciation, managed a brief if not fleeting smile then began to eat my dinner.
With every forkful of her delicious creation I began to tear. No it was not crying where you would sob and gulp for air, it was instead a constant trickle of tears which through the evening would flow without interruption.
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Maintaining a calm and cool front was begining to wear thin on both of my parents. Their hushed whispers to each, though not overtly directed at me, were none the less audible. My tears still ran and though I tried to wipe them away they now began to pool on my plate.
I didn't look up, so as not to invite questions. But I did whisper "its about me, Christine, girls and...uh...angels." They sat in stunned silence.
By now I had my full and pushed my plate away from me. I looked to both of them and spoke "thank you for my dinner."
For several minutes I sat. Mute and tearful. To their credit no questions were directed to me. Taking several deep breaths I resolved to begin. Nodded to them both and said "I'm ready." Mom replied, and I'm sure it was for both of them "you sure? Or, do you need more time to think?" "No Mom, but remember what your gonna hear is the truth but Christina needs to be here because I can't do this without her." Dad rose from his chair and offered to get her. Mom did not protest so off he went only to return without her.
As he turned the table corner to sit once again he spoke to Mom and to me "She said she needs to "prepare" herself and would be down shortly." Realizing why she was delaying her appearance I didn't worry about that: yet, and my tears continued unabated.
I presume at least five minutes past before Mom muttered to Dad "here she is, at last."
I rose from the table and went to meet her. We were about to end four years of mutual agreements. When she was close enough for me I whispered to her that now was the time. Smiling she nodded her consent, but did not speak. I also noticed that I for the life of me couldn't read a single thought from her....I wanted desperately to give her a hug but shook her head from side to side. Surprise and fright coursed through me as I realized who it was. Silently I exclaimed "Oh God, it's you!"
Placing a finger to my lips she shushed me and while her lips did not move she bid me to sit beside her and then to place my head upon her lap and console myself.
Both she and I moved together towards the table and sat besides each other. As I lowered my head to her lap I perceived the look of astonishment on my parents faces.Unforgetable. I began to nurse my thumb, as she had directed, took one or two deep breaths then, for the first time in over four years knew that some of the worst was going to be over.
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I realized that the intervening moments, prior to "her" commencing, would be fraught with questions and concerns from both Mom and Dad. I knew also, that while Christine's physical body cradled my head that she (Christine) was merely the vessel of communication for whom I now held no fear. Years of torment were now to end, yet I was none the less uneasy. Doubts of Mom and Dad's acceptance of what she would say; doubt's of my ability to speak without either sounding as if I were a fool or even if I could really speak at all. Even greater doubts of their reaction both now and later to Christine and what she would convey.
I felt "her" hand upon my head. Softly she carressed my hair, paused momentarily to view and fondle the barret Mom had set in it after my shower then proceded to pat my back as if I were a baby about to be burped. Again I heard her talk to me. Her voice softly reasured and consoled me: "Fret not little one - all shall be heard and there will be no doubts as to their uttered truth(s)."
Her chest rose and fell as one deep breath had been taken. She addressed the two who sat before her.
"Attend.
"While your concerns are valid do not fear. Do not doubt the sincerity of what I will convey nor the truths of what they will contain.
"All life on this corporial plane is mortal. None the less both man and beasts are endowed by Him with souls. These souls, while unblemished at birth: evolve. The various hues of their diminishment is not only due to what is within themselves but also from the "others" who seek to render the pure of heart vulnerable and more accessable to the evil of others.
"I am their angel. I guide and protect as I did with you both.
"I present that the two who sit before you are unblemished and pure of heart.
"Their love for each other is unquestionable.
"Also, unquestionable is that each has "special" endowments. Distinctive to but one, yet, that the other is not only aware of but willing to insure with silence that it even exists. To be certain, both are dear to each other.
"Of primary concern to the female is the welfare of her younger counterpart. Her prayers, though silent, are still heard.
"The younger, who is still in swaddling and who consoles himself while nursing upon his thumb is precious. Yet, the fears which consume him are real and form the basis of his angst. And, in turn, of her tearful entreaties.
"For him, the youngest, her entreties are answered and will become evident in short time.
"My time grows short. Be certain that your queries to either will be responded to faithfully.
Know too, that I am always close to all."
Several moments passed. Within moments "She" stopped fondling my barret. I could feel Christine's body quiver. A clearly audible sigh escaped her lungs. She was gone and now Christine remained.
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Chapter 2
For the longest time, we sat together. I, with my head in Christine's lap. At long last, she nudged my shoulder and kinda let me know that it was time to sit up - she thought that I was "getting heavy." I merely nodded and raised myself to sit upright. My eyes began to leak again. But, this time I knew why. I loved my sister, knew she loved me and was so glad that we were together. And too, that while I knew that I would cry when I tried to answer, that at least I would answer.
"Mom, Dad I need to stand and walk around a bit. I'm really tired and need some time to get myself together." Both Mom and Dad nodded their heads in the affirmative to her declaration. They both looked at us incredulously. Both my sister and I were aware of the onslaught of questions that they would pose. Christine stood, tapped me on the shoulder and said "let's go little one, we need to talk while I recoup."
"You know it." I replied, "but I gotta get changed or these diapers are gonna leak all over." Smiling she said "go ahead - I"ll wait" I could read her again and felt how serene she had become. I looked to Mother and asked if she would change me. Before she could physically nod I turned to Christine: "You wanna come and....uh help..you know...uh...gosh Christine, I don't think I can take being away from you right now, so it's o.k. for you to be with me while I get changed and I won't get upset if you uh...l..look. You know?" I'd love to go with you little one - and don't worry about me peeking." Smiling, she took my hand and started to lead me upstairs to my room. She turned and asked Mom "are you coming or do I need to do this by myself?" Her thoughts struck me "just joking Chris - Mom needs to get a grip." I stuttered a hushed reply "I...uh ...wouldn't mind if ....." An incomplete admission to her was left as it was.
Mother caught up with us on the stairway and muttered that "your father is getting both of us drinks." Both Christine and I giggled - they were really shook up and were about to show it. They rarely drank, especially in front of the two of us. Oh well, I thought, they're entitled.
As we entered my room, Mom went straight away for another diaper. I whispered to my Mom: "Uh...Mom...you uh, well, I .. I think it might need to a..well be a l..lot thicker. I'm uh not to s..sure about...."
"Thicker it will be then." Her matter of fact reply was refreshing. I motioned for Christina to come to my bedside. As I lay down I took her hand in mine. With gleeful anticipation I queried: "were gonna do this? Really?" She didn't have to speak to respond but her thoughts were clear. "Yes we really are and though yours is the greater burden - you little one will be free of your promise to me. Don't worry I'll be there and back you all the way. You know I will."
My tears ran quicker and I'm sure that Mom was aware that Christine was silently talking to me as I nodded my head and said "k".
Mom by now had taken off my soggy diaper an was wiping me clean. As she began to powder me she stopped and muttered.."hair." Wait, what did she say?! Hair?! I bolted upright and began to search for what she had seen. "Mom, come on, please don't joke about that, o.k.?"
I'm not joking she replied. It's off to the side, not large or dark but it's there." I looked to Christine. "W..would y...y...uh...y..you know?" Again with silent reply: "Yes, I'll look. Don't be embarrased, o.k?" "I wo..won't..h..honest - w..w..well may.uh..be I will b.be just a ah l..little? By now I knew with my reply that Mom knew we were talking to each other. She silently and me, well, just out loud.
Christine moved closer to Mom's side. Mom pointed directly at my shriveled attributes and quietly stated "here." Christine looked at her then at me and though as she smiled...."sure enough, there's one ....itty bitty but you got one..." Then out loud giggled "don"t lose it."
Mom finished dusting me down and turned to Christine. Since I have powder on my hands, would you mind closing his diapers up?" "No Mom, I dont mind at all" - she turned to me - I read her and replied "No Christine I don't mind."
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As Christine taped my diapers up, a pair of pink and yellow, terry cloth lined plastic pants was produced by Mom and extended to Christine. I moaned to myself "jeez, not those!" Beneath the plastic exterior and clearly visible, were block letters, diaper pins, little yellow duckies, baby bottles and pacifiers all of which showed in every graphic detail. I noted that it was more pink with but few areas of powder blue. Obviously the intentional design. And, obviously intended for someone younger.
Sullenly I questioned her: "Mom? Why these? Why did you have to brink these out now?"
She offfered her explanation "these are not intended to humiliate you Chris. But if you soak yourself as the last time and we're there for a longer period of time - you'll leak out and wet the seat cushions and perhaps stain them as well. Besides, I didn't have time to retrieve your powder blue ones."
Seemed an acceptable explanation - I merely nodded.
Christine helped snap them in place. As she did I began to question her. We were supposed to talk before we met with Mom and Dad. Obviously we didn't and I was afraid that with Mom being around and, though not intentionally, pushing us downstairs, we would not be able to do so.
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Christine had definetly grown in her confidence. She turned to Mom: "Mother, please don't wait for us and please do not linger to possibly overhear the incomplete tidbits of what transpires. I will not speak until seated before you both and Chris' words, between the two of us, is, for the moment, for our ears only." Mom shrugged her shoulders and nodded. Her reply to Christine reflected her concerns. "I'm terribly sorry and didn't mean to give the appearance that I was trying to eavesdrop or snoop on your conversations. Though I am upset I will wait for both of you."
I giggled to myself - "what else could she do?" Christine's puzzlement at my brief merriment was obvious. She too giggled when I told her of my thoughts.
For what may have been minutes we did not speak to one another. Instead we soothed ourselves in warm embrace. Brother to sister - sister to brother - each reveling in mutual consolement: each which at long last would offer some measure of relief to the other.
She began in earnest. "Christopher, my beloved brother, your vows to me have been met. You are released, without remaining obligation, to speak truthfully to our parents." I was somewhat befuddled and asked her if she was o.k and "why are you talking like that? You didn't used to you know. If you talk to Mom and Dad that way their gonna think your on something. But do I understand you that neither you or She is gonna wreck me if I tell them what I saw or know?"
Christina smiled broadly and let me know "that is the case." She continued to mentally speak - (I truly marveled at her ability). Also, that "I will begin by telling on myself so that you don't consider yourself a tattle tale. Come on little one we need to make an appearance." I pulled back and spoke quickly "wait a sec Christina I have some questions for you - your the one who is doing all the "talking" right now, so before I go you need to tell me a couple of things: like why do you now call me "little one" - I-m almost as big as you are and will you honest and truly not get mad at me for some of the things I might say - even if they"re the truth?
Honest and truly Christopher I won't and I like the way "she" addressed you - it had an endearing quality. So for right now, I am still older than you, in the next grade up and outweigh you - so there. You remain my little one.
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I blurted my response "Christine? I don't think I like that. I mean you know what's gonna happen if you call me that and some of the guys hear it? There gonna pound me. Please, don't. K?" Her thoughts were clear.
"I'll make a deal with you. I promise that I won't use it in front of any one except Mom and Dad or our aunt's and uncle's - that also includes our cousins." "I don't see why all of those others have to, you know, hear it. They'll tease me and...." She interupted - "that's as far as I go. I like it and will use it." It looked like a no win situation for me. I pensively asked her "w..well if I don't agree - you'd say it just to embarass me so what's my end of the deal? W.. wh..what do you want from me?" Her response surprised me. "Nada." This is my promise and my deal. You don't have to do anything. I'll honor what I pledge. It is not my intent to humiliate you. If I did anything like that it would be wrong - besides I use it because I really love you - to me your extra special. O.K?"
With a slight shrug I agreed with a low "guess so."
I was not to happy over "our bargain." I thought that at some time, no matter how much she loved me that it would come out and bite me in the butt.
Resigned to this situation I really needed to cover up. I sure didn't want to be in front of Mom and Dad with just a "T" shirt and a diaper, which in turn was covered by baby plastic pants. I looked for my bathrobe, which normally hung on my robe hook on the back of my closet door. It wasn't there so I turned to pick up the robe Mom gave me to wear. "On no!" I exclamed. It was Christines!" The shock of my discovery was clearly evident. My mouth hung open as my eyes widened with disbelief. With a befuddled look I turned to Christine. I started to cry. "Christine? D...do you know? I mean they're yours. I have a robe - so why?"
"W..why did she do this this? I mean they're your clothes!" She smiled as I read her - "yes, Mom thought it be best to clean your robe - she said that it had been some time and that there were soda stains on it. Anyhow - it had an arm torn off in the washer. It looked like it had caught up on something. I wasn't fit to wear so she tossed it. She told me about it and asked if I could loan you one of mine - I didn"t see why not so I gave her that one."
"Damn Christine if I put this on... I'll look like, like, well....y...you!"
"Gosh Chris, that was the least girlish thing I had. I'm really sorry about yours but..." I cut her off at mid-thought. I cringed as I picked it up. Before Mom had put it on me and I never really examined it but now...Damn it!. Holding it out, I shook my head in disbelief. On either side of the front, just above chest high were two butterflies. Each was about 4 inches in diameter with their main bodies colored in a combination of pink and lavender. They presented a mirror image of each other. Their wings were spread and the hues that filled their expanse were interspersed with yellow, powder blue, light green and pink. I also noticed that on either sleeve where little white bunnies whose perimeters were stiched in pink followed by a seperate stiching of lavender. "Just great" I muttered - my tears had begun in earnest.
Resigned that it would be better to wear this than just appear in diapers I -put it on. I noticed Christine's face as she thought I looked cute!
I sniffled back on a runny nose and tried to wipe my eyes dry. Neither attempt was successful.
Christine's query was laced with concern - "Chris, I'm truly sorry. But if we're to do this - don't fall apart. O.K?" I merely nodded and let her lead me to the stairway.
'
-
Chapter 3
We began our descent. We strode in unison down the twenty two treds and paused at the bottom. I mused to myself, that if one were to have viewed us - side by side - that we would indeed appear to be girls. I did not take comfort in this thought. Yet in truth to be compared with Christine was of some comfort.
I whispered to Christine "I'm already wet; this is gonna be something else." She stroked my hair and smiled.
She took my hand and led me to the dining room. I did indeed feel like a "little one." I scrunched my face and tried to keep her thoughts from hitting me. It was almost impossible. Between her ordered thoughts of talking to our parents, her musings of my predicament, her desire to meet our angel once more and of how life would be different - I was innundated, not confused, but rather placed in what I considered a system overload.
We approached the entry to the dining room. There we found our parents , sitting side by side, and in deep conversation with each other. It was also clear that each had consumed at least one shot glass of hard liquor. A bottle of Crown Royal sat conspicuously on the table between them. It had never been opened before this evening and now, by appearance, a full quarter of its contents were gone. Dad quickly sat up, and put back the remaining contents of his glass. He then, poured himself another round. Oh great, I thought, now Dad is gonna be wrecked and no telling how Mom is gonna do. She didn't drink. Dad said all she had to do was smell the fumes of hard liquor or the cork off of a bottle of wine - that was good enough, he would say, to "set her free." He would also muse that she was a "cheap date."
Where Christine and I would sit were a variety of soft drinks and a pitcher of water and tall iced tea glasses.
Christine took the chair to my right. As we sat I did ask both Mom and Dad "Are you guys gonna be alright?" Dad nodded and stated that the drink he had just poured ..." that was it for the night-come hell or high water."
Mom nodded gave a wry smile and said "Despite what others would think - I'm not that cheap a date." Both Christine and I giggled while Dad gave her a stare which could be by appearance be taken as "you gotta be shitting me!"
Christine was ready to begin, she smiled at both of them, and started off with a statement of the obvious. "You guys might have some pretty bad hang overs tomorrow." A brief pause was followed by her commencing. "I know it will be hard for you to understand some of what either Chris or I will say, but, it's the truth. The honest truth. So if your both ready to be rocked I'll begin.
Several years ago, when both Chris and I were in elementary school, I think it was second grade, Chris and I made promises or deals with each other. The promises involved what either of us knew of the other. They also dealt with things that had not yet happened. Neither of us would speak to you guys or anyone else about what either of us could do, had done or could do in the future. We struck the deal based on our honor, to ourselves and to each other. No other considerations were given and no attempts to change or soften the vows were made.
It was also about that time the the guardian angel who spoke to you, through me, made her presence known to me and by accident to Chris. Chris's knowledge of "her" was traumatic. He saw things that were supposed to be secret and what he saw still upsets him."
Christine turned to me, "am I saying it o.k?" I nodded "yes."
-
I sat rigid and fraught with the fear(s) of what I had held within me for many years. At some length, I turned to Christina and then emplored her with trusting puppy dog eyes to "be with me....o.k?" Her reply was crystal clear, heard by Mom and Dad, "I promised you that I would help and I will. I know you are afraid but you will always carry some fears with you if they are not made evident." There she was, talking like someone else - I shuddered. "Mom - Dad, Christopher told you that he couldn't do this without me. That declaration is truer than you realize. He also asked to meet and clear what for years has troubled him more so than me. With both of your consents we will begin. "
As she spoke my breathing became labored. While I heard her speak and saw their consent - I was struck by the beginning of what I called "tick/tock." My head was buzzing, with a deep base vibration which I had heard but one time before..
I turned from my sisters gaze and sat bleary eyed. I knew that it would only be through her touch that I could proceed. Her last spoken words to me were the begining of my...well...my release from ......
The buzzing grew louder. She continued to speak to me: "Christopher, I now task you to relate in every detail you can remember of what occured. You will relive that evening graphically. When I place my hand across your eyes - close them and begin."
The buzzing within my head reached a volume that I could't perceive. I lowered my head and seem to pass out.
-
"I opened my eyes and stared at the night light on my dresser - Kermit was smiling at me. But I thought that there was something wrong. I felt that there was someone in the house, who shouldn't be there! I began to scream for both Mom and Dad - but nothing came out! I tried again - to yell even louder -then they would hear me - MOMMY? DADDY? WHERE ARE YOU? But I did not hear my own screams - nothing - no sound. I didn't understand what was happening and again screamed for Mom and Dad - WHERE ARE YOU? MOMMY/DADDY COME QUICK.
I knew I was yelling and screaming, but, why was there no sound? The feeling that someone else was here grew stronger.
I thought that I would go get them, if they couldn't hear, then at least they would not ignore me while I got them out of bed. I softly and quietly got out of my bed and tried to sneak down the hallway to their room. In doing so I would have to pass Christina's room. I started to cry. Someone was in Christina's room. I crept towards her doorway and peeked in.
Christina was in bed. Asleep. Or, that's what I thought. As I looked around for the someone who should't be there my mouth fell wide open.
While I was sure she was asleep; I was right, and really, really wrong. For, before me from the left, where Christine's closet was, walked a lady.
She was walking towards Christines bed and when she got closer to it I...I saw Christine sit up...right out of her own body. Only it wasn't Christine was it?! Now there were two Christines. The one that I recognized in bed asleep or what? And now another which was whiter than white, she was pure, was kneeling on the bed at my Christines feet while smiling at the strange lady. The white Christine brought both of her hands together in front of her, as if she was going to pray. She began to float up to the ceiling and went right through it!!!! I wet my jammies.
Stunned I could neither scream nor move. I took a deep breath and slowly walked to her bedside. The lady had long hair, was fair of skin and was pretty tall. She turned to look at me and her look scared me. Her eyes flashed at my being there. I started to scream.
WHAT DID YOU DO TO CHRISTINA? WHERE IS SHE? WHERE DID SHE GO? YOU BETTER NOT HURT HER - SHE'S MY SISTER - YOU BRING HER BACK. I turned from the one with flashing eyes and knelt beside Christina's bed and pleaded as I cried. Don't die Christina please, come back to me! Please don't die! I love you - don't leave me, please don't leave me! Please, come back and live with us! Please!
There was no response, nor, was there a spoken reply. I noticed that the Christina in bed was breathing yet there was something missing.
I turned again to the lady. WHERE IS SHE? WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY SISTER? YOU BRING HER BACK TO ME. I raised my hands as if to hit her - but stopped when she scolded me.
-
"Such temerity! You would fight with me?! Child, lower your hands and do not anger me. I have known many such as you, brash and bold with utter disregard for what danger they may face - and most all met with unpleasant fates. How would you fare against my anger? Even now you tremble with fear and cannot still your own water. Return to your bed and be glad that you are able to do so."
She pointed to Christine's bed, "behold your beloved sister returns."
My teeth were chattering as I turned to look. True. I saw what I thought and she said was Christine re-entering her body. Stunned and shaking I again went to her bedside and whispered into her ear. "C..Christina..a..are you b..b..back? Y..you o.k?"
The lady answered me instead of Christina: "remove your soiled garments and leave. She will wake shortly and will come to your side. For what you have seen of her and myself must be discussed amongst yourselves. But know this, no good will come if tonights events are disclosed."
I d..didn't know w..what else to, ah, d..do. I t..took off my wet clothes as she ordered. She's gonna see m..m.. me na-ked! I hid my boy parts w..with b..both hands and b..backed out of, uh, the room.
-
I did not want to leave but I felt like I was being made to do so. That "Her" very words could pull me back, into my room, against my will and away from my sister. As I backed up, I tried to scream STAY AWAY FROM HER but was met with the same stoney silence.
A few moments later I felt the back of my legs touch my bed. Trembling I turned to lay down, and as I did saw............MYSELF. It was ....Me!? Me? I was already IN bed!? Asleep!? Wh....whh what was going on!? How could I.... All a dream!? Was this a bad dream?! I sat down on my bed. . Did I die too?!! Tears were running down my face. I bent over and cradled my face with both of my hands and sobbed. I was afraid to go near me because of what I might find! I was so afraid.
I don't know how long I sat and cried. Softly and gently I heard someone speak to me ....finally I thought. I can hear sounds. With my head spinning from crying and through bleary eyes I turned to the voice.
"Mommy?" I had a really bad dream and.....and.....and....Christine and ...annd, uh, m.m.me we, uh, we ---there was .....in our rooms.... "
I heard the voice again, much clearer this time speaking to me. Much, much clearer.
She was speaking to me: "No, little one, it is not Mommy." She quickly added: "Do not look up yet, as you may be frightened, even more so at my sight."
-
Where before I sat and cried, I now trembeled with fear. I shook my head from side to side then lowered it once more. I didn't want to see "her" and was deathly afraid of looking at "her." Her voice grew stronger, though still soft as she approached my bedside. I kinda knew "she" was kneeling beside me and turned my head to the right kinda to make sure I didn't look at "her." While kneeling to my left "she" continued to talk to me. But, all I remember was that "she" really wasn't angry with me or that her scolding of me was because she thought I had gotten outta bed against her specific wishes, but now impressed about something or other. But I was still in bed, wasn't I, or what the hell am I doing here with no clothes on and my teeth chattering!
"She" said something a..about that this "experience" was not meant for "you child." That confused me even more. But, I was still in bed and at the same time wasn't! I was out side of me, had looked at me but I, me, was here. Wasn't I?
My head started to spin, and the sicker to my stomach I got. And while the me that was sitting on the bed was still naked, I thought "what's the difference." The only other thing I remember is "she" said that Christina was to talk with me after I had "waken." I was too confused, said nothing and waited for whatever was going to happen.
The next thing I remember was that I felt a tapping on my right shoulder. I was scrunched up like a baby and buried my my still spinning head futher into the covers and refused to budge. I also cried in knowing that I had wet the bed and it wasn't like I'd just done it either. It was really cold. Almost at the same time I realized who was on my bed, laying beside me. I could read her. I cried out loud and ....
I
-
I ...I - never finished what I was going to say. Instead of being back in my room I was now sitting in front of Mom and Dad. My eyes were open and took in first, the look of astonishment or disbelief on their faces. Mom had tears in her eyes, but unlike me, she controlled them. Dad's mouth was slightly opened and he appeared to be leaning ever so slighty forward in stunned silence: awaiting further embellishment. The clock on the wall behind them read eight-twenty; which means I had been talking for some twenty minutes.
I felt Christina remove her hand from my right cheek; while at the same time, silently telling me that I had done "really good." But now, "to relax, take a deep breath and take a break. I'll try to fill in some of the blanks."
Releasing myself from the ram-rod straight up and down position I sat in, I crossed both of my hands at the wrists and placed them on the light oak table top in front of me. I slowly bent forward and lowered my head upon them while at the same time heaving a sigh of relief as the gentle wisps of cool air from the ceiling air vents filled the room.
My sobs began in earnest. Christina began to speak to Mom and Dad while at the same time, starting to pat my back. That this was for what she said was "con-so-la-tion." I guess she was trying to make me feel better. Lovingly her words of "there, there, little one. There, there, don't cry. It'll be alright soon" were also coupled with hearing her spoken words to our parents. I marveled again at how she could do this. Imperceptable to Mom and Dad, because Christina now held their attention, my head moved ever so slightly in agreement.
-
Christina began to "flesh out" the details. At least I knew what she meant by that when she began. "Mom-Dad, what you've heard is what happened with both of us on that night. I, was able to do what Chris saw with the help of our angel. And Chris, that night became an exceptional child in her eyes.
Her appearance to me was not as terrifying as it was to be for Christopher.
To me, "she" had preceded her appearance many times in what I first thought were dreams. They were ever so peaceful and nice. Slowly I became accustomed to her "voice" - if you could call it that - while asleep. At length she would teach me how to pray - and even gave me one short prayer to say before I went to sleep at night and told me to teach it to Christopher as well.
Before too long, my curiosity took hold. I had the desire to see who I was "speaking" with. It seemed she understood my need and first revealed herself - appearing to me as if hidden behind a veil or opaque screen of some type. I became increasingly comfortable as the faintness of "her" image faded to one of absolute clarity.
Standing before me was as beautiful a woman as I have ever seen. Her height was well over six feet and "she"wore as pure a white robe as sight could tolerate. As striking a figure I could never imagine. Especially so because of "her" eyes. Their color was the deepest blue you could ever imagine - which in turn complemented the color of her ash blond hair; which was ever so lovely. She wore it long, with many soft and lengthy curls -the length of which hung well below the tips of her fingers.
Lastly, an ever so beautifully braided portion also, and emphatically, accented her appearance; was set from temple to temple: thus, offering the appearance of a wreath or crown of some type. The skin on her arms was without a blemish or mark of any type. I marveled at her beauty.
As I looked upon "her" I became consumed with worry. Christopher, could always read my mind, so, why hadn't he picked up on this? Months had past and there was not the slightest hint that he knew what I was doing or was about to do or so I thought and so did "she."
She said he would be unable to pierce my thoughts where "she" and I were concerned. Also, that he was not ready to "accompany" me - by that I presumed that Chris wasn't up to it for some reason."
She paused before continuing.
I heard that and immediately pulled my cheeks in, tightened my lips and cried even harder. "Shit! I'm even dissed by an "angel" whose supposed to be, what? Guarding... me? Yea, right, scaring the piss outta me is more like it! Why did this...this wh..whatever t..trash m...me?"
Christina, noticied my frustration, silently spoke to me. "No! It's not like that at all - I promise." I mentally began to crawl back into myself. I wanted to die!
Christina asked if we could take a "short break." "Get some water and also so I can get with Christopher before we go on?"
Oh of course, this was agreed to- why not! Christina got up and ask me out loud to "come on - get up and we'll talk: o.k?"
I was torked. O.k. so maybe I'm kinda slow, with alot of things, but I'm not that slow. I know when its time to tell someone to get outta my face. I raised my head up off of my arms and tersly replied. "Sorry, don't feel like it - so just leave me alone: k?"
-
Crap! As soon as I said that I felt rotten. Christina's feelings were, well, both hurt and confused. Christina had stood beside me and was now perplexed as to how she should proceed. Her thoughts raced through me and then abruptly stopped. Suddenly, a clear moment of her understanding hit me - "Oh shit! No! I didn't and she didn't mean it like that! Your not a dumb ass!!! But right now, you need to pull yourself up and listen. Hear what I need to tell you.!"
I knew Mom and Dad were looking at both of us and that Christina's thoughts were to her the truth - so, well, I blurted "whatever" out loud. I sat up ever so slowly, to face her, and replied.
"K - go ahead and tell me. Why?"
Christina began. "I want you to listen very carefully and don't try to read me." I began to speak, but, she took her right hand and placed her palm totally and firmly across my mouth. While, at the same time, telling me - "and don't you even try to talk until I'm done."
I was surprised by her, well, uh, her firmness of voice and I guess she was really determined to have her way. I moved my head to confirm that I would do as she asked. Hell what choice did I have? Listen or not to listen. Either way I was gonna get an ear full and so would my parents.
Slowly, her palm lifted from my face. She pulled out the chair to my left and sat down. She leaned forward, moving ever closer to me then started to tear as she began.
-
She placed her hands upon both of my shoulders and pulled me closer to her.
"Neither "she" nor I' consider you a "dumb ass." She thought that you were "not ready to accompany me" and I in turn drew the conclusion that "you were not up to it." Both of those conclusions were based on concern for your physical and mental well being. She did not want to place you under undo stress - her concern for you was and is genuine. And I, also knowing what could happen agreed: that maybe, if you were to do what I was going to do, that it would cause you more harm in the short run than good. That it would be best to wait a while - then try it.
I really apologize. Honest. My words tonight weren't meant to hurt your feelings, make you feel unworthy or uncared for. Nor make you cry. They were instead a relating of circ-umstances which at the time... well...appeared to be....DAMN IT CHRIS........tonight I'm trying to talk of what I know, and what you still don't now anything about! At the time they were incorrect conclusions which were...terribly wrong.
After "she" realized what had happened and came to your room she admitted that "even angels are not right all the time."
Christina paused for a moment, as if to say, "think about that!," then continued.
"You were terrified of what had happened. She understood that but puzzled as to how and why you happened upon us. Yes, at first seeing you walk into my room, "She" was angry, and made that perfectly clear to you through her eyes, flashing and cutting you to tears: while at the same time ordering you to return to your bed: thinking that you had disobeyed her direction for you to remain in your room, in your bed and not "intrude upon tonights events."
It was only after you returned to your room did she begin to understand, through your terrified thoughts what was occuring, had occured or what was to occur. When "she" ordered you back to your room, only then did she have an "unsettling thought."
Chris -She was sitting on the edge of my bed when I awoke from my "experience." I knew she was proud of me and loved me but....."her" concern for you was enormous.
As she sat on the edge of my bed, "she" bent her head ever so slightly to the right, closed her eyes, and whispered "how could I have been so blind? How can one as young as your brother .....? Impossible?? No! "For even now he sits terrified and unconsoled in his room - how wrong my estimation of him was. How dearly he loves you - how creative and brave a soul. To transcend time, space and matter for the love of his sister."
Gosh, I didn't know what she was talking about now.
She continued on, asking me questions about you and if I knew anything about your "abilities" as far a time was concerned. I shook my head no then quickly corrected myself and said "Shit! Oh, I'm sorry, but, yes!
"Christopher was always telling me how he could see the hour hand on a clock move. "It's easy" he said. He also told me of how, how at times, he could make everything stop moving - like all the people would stop and be frozen in place while he talked with them - then, when he had had enough - he started them back up again - it was "like starting up a movie after it stopped."
"He also told me about the trip to New York and what happened at Macy's. He left Mom and Dad to see if he could find electric trains. Instead of finding the trains he walked up to the rear doors and looked through them. He said he saw "old stuff - like in the olden times. There were horses pulling carriages. People in all kind of funny clothes and that even the ladies carried umbrellas - and it wasn't even raining. But he got scared because some old lady dressed in black was beckoning him to walk outside to her. He didn't know why but he got goose bumps as she got closer. He didn't like how she looked at him and backed up. He said that she sneared at him and looked angry that he wasn't going to come outside. He ran to find Mom and Dad and me. I noticed he had wet himself but I didn't say anything. Anyhow, he grabbed Mom's hand and dragged her to the doors while at the same time explaining what he saw. I followed and giggled at his story. Of course when we got to the doors, it was like, normal. There were no horses and no lady waiting for him. Mom was angry that he had made up such a story and also for wetting himself. "But it was real. Honest! It was!" Mom tanned his butt right there, for making up stories and for peeing in his pants. He wet himself even more as she spanked him. I felt really bad for him.
"Then there's Chris' sleepytime time or poem. He made up the words and would say it before he went to sleep:
Tick Tock - look at the clock.
Tick Tock - I make it stop.
Tick Tock - its hands are mine - we move
Tick Tock - Back to black or towards the light
Tick Tock - Tock or Tick - Tick Tock
A wry smile escaped "her" lips. She spoke slowly: "This child, how precious a soul. That he came to you as he did.........."She" read my thoughts and puzzlement that crossed my face.
"She" spoke to me. "Time is but a place. A small moment of what was, what is or shall be. "She" shook her head and smiled. Christopher did not disobey my request this evening for he still lies asleep in his bed. The one who mourns for both of you is also your Christopher - but.....not just yet. for the one who is naked and terrified comes from tomorrows evening. And since I never have or had tasked him to remain where he was....he took it upon himself to see for your safety.
-
She continued - "Truth be known - what he saw was not a fabricated tale. Even at the age of six, he unknowingly passed from now to then. His lady in black was no such thing but rather a "corruptor." His fright was not unfounded. She would have fed upon his innocence and turned him from pure of heart to..........who knows what?
"My dearest child, your Christopher will require you when dawn breaks. Speak of what you have done and what he has seen. But, do not speak of our conversation. Hold it close and know that his love for you consumes his very existance.
"He is already shattered - and will remain so for the years to come. For now - silence is necessary. Attend him as he cries and console him. He will ask little of you. Yet, there are other matters which he hides. His wails of protest and fright will trigger the revealing of this eve's truths."
She left me and went to your room. I followed her. I peaked around the door and looked inside. There were two of you! One was asleep in bed and the other had turned his head away from her and was crying really bad. She looked back to me, smiled, then turned back to talk to you.
As she did you rocked back and forth holding your head with both hands and started to say something. She turned again and waved for me to leave. I did and went back to my room. I laid down and went to sleep.
I looked from Christine over to my parents and then back to my sister. "Mom? Dad?" she said, I sorta know what your both thinking or at least I hope I do. Everything I said and everything Chris said is the honest truth! When Chris exploded this afternoon I recognized a couple of words that would trigger him and lead us to where we are now."
She turned back to look at me. She was really starting to cry. This was the first time I'd ever seen her cry like this. I got up and hugged her. As I stroked her hair I noticed the slight smell of perfume on her neck (and how I kinda wanted to smell as good a she did). I mused, knowing that she had swiped some from Mom's dresser, at how easy it was for me to hold her, a girl, and tell her "thank you ever so much."
Silently, I just wished that the next part of my tasks would go smoothly. I don't know how much she knew about what I was gonna say and right now it really didn't matter.
Mom broke the moment with a slight cough. Her face was flushed and I giggled as she reached for another shot glass full of liquor. Dad finished what little remained of his "last one" then, in quick succession belted back two more shots as he muttered something about some long past experience which now had been drudged from the past.
"Mom? I think I need a change. Do you mind?" I took Christina's hand and started walking to go upstairs. I turned again to Mom and asked, "are you coming or does Christina have to do it?!" Mom's look was priceless. She gave Dad a slight kiss on the cheek telling him "I don't want you winding up like you did on New Years!" Christina turned to me and sorta gave me a smile - she knew I was helping Mom and Dad "get a grip."
This time Mom caught up with us at the stair landing - we weren't walking very fast - "What am I going to do with you both?" Again I thought another rhetorical question. She forced a smile and said "shall we?"
-
Christina helped me out of my, I mean her robe and hung it on the hook behind my closet door and said "it looks good hanging there but you'll need to place it on a hanger or the back below the neck will pull out of shape."
Oh great, I thought, now she'll expect me to wear it?
I laid down on my bed and Mom unsnapped the plastic pants. They had done their job as even the terrycloth lining was wet. "Amazing" she muttered, "don't move (again I chuckeled to myself - "Mom where the heck am I gonna go with a soggy diaper?!') - I need to find another pair of plastic panties - it might be a few minutes.
Panties? You gotta be kidding me!
She turned to Christina: "I know you'll watch him - o.k.?" Christina nodded and Mom left us alone.
I needed to speak urgently to my sister. "Christina? I'm really sorry the way I acted like I did with you downstairs. I thought, well, I took it in all wrong and I...I was....wrong and, uh, y...you were r..right. I, uh, d..didn't know and I...f..forgot about...some stuff...b..but I still d..don't r..really understand, w..why or alot of other th.. things. And, right now, if, if it's, uh, o.k. with you, pl... please just talk to me so, so I can hear your voice? I pr..promise I, uh, won't t..try t..to read you. Beckoning her to come closer I whispered..Christina...I gotta ask - is it really you? Honest and truly, you came back - didn't you?" She nodded and in her softest voice said "yes. Its really me and you my little one are the bravest brother a girl could have to watch over and protect her." She came closer and gave me a kiss on my left cheek.
Looking up I saw Mom standing at the door. Before I could ask - she nodded her head "yes" and said it out loud. "I couldn't help but listen, I'm sorry, about many things." Both Christina and I smiled at her. "It was o.k. Mom it was o.k." She started to cry as she again started to change my diaper. I didn't have to tell her to make it thick either. Soon a pair of heavy duty purple diapers with a double soaker was wraped around my hips - followed by another pair of plastic pants.
"Ohhh, thanks Mom, but couldn't you find something a little less babyish? I mean look at them. They've got all sorts of small different colored teddy bears holding all sorts of different colored hearts..and half moons in pink..I mean and stuff like that..you know?" Christine boldly proclaimed them as "cute" right out loud!
Mom hushed me. Held up her hand to silence me stating that I would wear these panties as "I'm still having trouble finding your blue ones. Mom!! I exclaimed. ..but she cut me off "they will stay on you until its time to change you once more."
I shook my head and looked at Christina and grimaced - Christina smiled at me in return.
"Panties!! Panties" she's calling 'em panties? I looked at her in disbelief as my mouth hung open and quizically asked: "Mom? you meant pants - didn't you?" "Uh, why yes, of course, I meant pants." She smiled at me - it was one I wasn't really to sure of - then she walked out of the room.
"Jeez Christina, what's she talking about - "panties? Christina giggled, saying "well that's what girls and I guess moms call them." I sighed in resignation and with considerable nervous thoughts going through my head. I managed to push all of that aside for the moment, after all there was no way she...I really still needed to talk with Christina.
-
"Christina? Did I make a fool of myself? I mean I, uh, d.. didn't ...mea...mean to .... honest!"
She shook here head and replied: "No - no more so than I would have made of myself by what I said. Uh - Uh. I think your temper tantrum at the end was really what we both needed - you expressed your anger and built up emotion which in turn help me not to be so damned rigid about how I was trying to explain everything...... Well, ....almost everything.
"I know that both Mom and Dad and you have alot of questions - especially where "she" is concerned, but we both can take care of that shortly. And my little one you have nothing to be ashamed of. You did not humiliate yourself. On the contrary, through your explanation you became more understandable while at the same time raising, in all of our eyes and within yourself - your self esteem."
I interrupted, "whoa! Christina, there you go again. Your talking like, well like "her!" Can't you just say something without being so, so, ah, different? You never did talk like this before "she" used you to talk to Mom and Dad! Are you gonna keep it up? I mean, what's gonna happen when we go back to school?!"
Replying to me: "No - this will not last long. Besides, where "she" is concerned it is almost impossible not to be affected." For a few moments she softly stroked my hair and then gently carressed my cheek.
I looked up at her face from where I sat and we exchanged smiles; mine of a "younger," wide eyed wonderously expectant brother while hers was of loving concern and adoration from an "older" sister. Now she's got me using words I wouldn't have!
She turned from me and removed her robe from the closet hook: well I guess it was mine now. She opened it, and held it for me to put my arms in. I moaned in my whining voice: "Ohhh nooo - I look dumb...I.."
She cut me off. "No, not dumb - rather lovingly cute." "Geez Christine way to make me feel good!"
"Hush - and quit being such a baby. They are waiting for us to return and you..... you Christopher.... will reveal what I have held in silence for you."
-
As we walked down the stairs - I giggled out loud, "I hope this isn't habit forming. We've done this before - hadn't we?" She in turn leaned towards me and gently said, "You'll do fine and I promise that I will help as much as possible. Honest." I was soothed to know that she would help me again.
Mom and Dad were again seated at the table talking to each other, well, it was really a one sided conversation. Mom was wagging a finger in Dad's face - scolding him for drinking too much. I looked at Christine - she was smiling broadly and giggled softly.
We approached the table together, Christine had her right hand on my left shoulder. We stood motionless for several seconds and watched Mom really give it to Dad, "I don't know why you insist on doing this, especially at this time and even after I warned you not to get shit faced!" Golly, Mom was rippping him a new one.
Christine's loud "ahh humm," abruptly halted Mom from going on. Dad, on the other hand, turned red faced and murmered, "I really am sorry, honest." Dad was a great guy, but even I knew that if things got to him he sometimes would, well, have a bit too much. Mom, in turn, shook her head and appologized for being so angry and using "that kind of language."
Christine motioned for me to take the chair to the right - the one she had sat in before. As I sat down she poured us both two tall glasses of water. I greatfully took it and knew that my "cotton mouth," would soon make it's appearance. I murmered to her, "thanks sis."
I tried to calm myself. Here I sat, wearing only a really thick diaper, baby plastic pants and Christina's robe. What an impression I was gonna make! Without realizing it, I started to tear again.
Christina leaned closer to me and spoke for everyone to hear: "Chris - why don't you start with what happened this afternoon and why you got so angry at me. Mom and Dads questions can wait until later." I didn't know if it was a statement or a question, but I more or less agreed, at least mentally, that it was a much easier point of beginning.
-
I looked to both of my parents , then to Christina, my portion of the evenings main events was to begin.
"Before I, ah, well go to far, I need to a..a..appologize to Christina. This afternoon I called her a, ah, n..name, which I, ah, sh..sh...shouldn't have and honestly now know was really, really hurt..ful to her.
"I know how b..b..bad she felt be...ah ...cause I read her as she w..was wri..writing a letter of explanation and ap..appo...logy to me." I turned to Christina as my tears flowed. "Christina, there is n..no reason for y..you t..to give me it - I know every word in it." I hung my head in remorse.
I looked away from both her and my parents and for a moment rested my chin upon my chest and tried to collect myself. I closed my eyes and went on.
"I also know that Mom and Dad really got into you and that you got five really hard swats with the paddle and had alot of your priveledges taken away......and......Mom - Dad.... uh, that's not fair! Sh..she wasn't gonna t..tell you why! I read her and I know... SHE DID IT FOR ME".....I trailed off and whispered ever so lowly....."because she loves me and didn't want me to be afraid.
"Mom - Dad don't take away anything from her - p..pl..please?"
I paused, took another deep breath and went on. "Geez, this is com - pli -cated b..but I, ah, nee -d, ah, t-to ex - plain." Even I cringed at my ever halting attempts to speak.
I felt Christine's arm encircle me and firmly grasp me on my right shoulder. "Your doing just fine little one. Just relax your chest and when your ready to go on - you set the pace - no one here is going to press you. O.K?" I nodded in agreement. I allowed several moments to pass before I began once more.
"A long t..time ago I was having really, really..... b..bad dreams and I t..told her about them. They were all so real, honest! But that was, ah, wasn't the worst of i..t. Th..they always c..came back, every dif-fer-ent night I, I would have the same dreams. They wouldn't leave me alone. I...I would always wake up in the same pl..place of each dream...I even tried to scream out but I couldn't.
In one dream, in one dream, there was al...ways a pp..p..picture. Every night the same one, even up until.... l..last night....and I'm af..fraid I'l, ah, k..k.. keep having it - even wh-when I g..go to sleep to-night.
"The, the, the ppp..pic..ture that, that keeps running in m..my mind is, is, the one, th..the one she ................." I cursed myself... C...come on - get, get it out, get it out, just get it OUT!!!!!
"ITS THE ONE CHRISTINE SENT ME TODAY. SHE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW - I NEVER TOLD CHRISTINE WHAT SHE LOOKED LIKE. I NEVER TOLD ANYONE...HONEST AND TRULY."
-
DO YOU KNOW WHAT, IT, ITS LIKE TO SEE THE SAME THING - OVER AND OVER AND OVER?"
I had never yelled like that when I talked to anyone before and started moving my head from side to side. I knew, how I must've looked. My mouth ajar, tears all over my face, still running, and, at the same time, my eyes, emploring - pleading for understanding. I didn't really expect any!
I took a very deep breath and went on - not expecting any type of response from my parents or even Christina.
"You don't know, you really don't how it is to keep seeing the same dreams or nightmares and not be able to do any.. anything about th... them. You d..don't know how - how agonizing it is t..to s..see something and ne...ne..never to be able to f..forget it. It's worser than anything.
"In real life, like when your awake, you can s..see everything! You can look to the le..left or r..r..right or go behind and s..see what's there. You can't look behind a picture - you only get to see wh.. wh...what's in, ah, front of you. ......................and now.........now....oh crap!...when, when Chri-Christina showed me her face ...I even read her n...name.
"A name to go with a face, one that's haunted me for so, so.....long. "This after - noon, I, well, I didn't expect, I mean, I...uh...ohhh I was so afraid and I still am!
I heard Christina's voice, "Chris do you want to stop for a while?"
"N..no, can't s..stop - gotta, just gotta finish, cause, cause I have to....... I promised "Her."
-
"I p...pr....promised and, and, I, uh k..keep m...m...mine. S...so, so I'm gonna finish.
"Christina spoke her name. The girls name! Her name! I finally had something else that went with her! Something different that I could link with a picture.
"D..do you remember wh..what I said...."why should she start this before school" and "its not fair." You remember!?? It really wasn't.... Christina I was, was, ah, talking about............it was th...the ....angel.
"DAMN IT!!! This is like a plate of....of..... cooked spaghetti! Every time, every time, I try to say something it, it - gets all mumbled - jumbled and involved with something else. And every time I say something else "She" lets me remember more and more! So---Just listen..... please.?
In a low, yet uncommon steady voice, especially for me, I continued. "I really shouldn't have called Christina a, a name: a, a b...backstabber. I, ah, am really ashamed - especially now - knowing that it was really part of keeping my promise......to "Her" because of that night..... my promise to fulfill my part of the "deal" "She" made with me.
"Yea, Christina spoke her name, what else could she do! Even my sister doesn't know of the deal "She" and I made that night.
-
"Christina didn't even know that what she was telling me this afternoon, would s..set me off. Damn! even I really didn't understand! Geez I'm sorry for the curse word, but, but......." I scrunched my face tight and grimaced, "no.........she was only trying to be real nice by getting some other boys to walk with me along with, with Melinda......tha...that way I w..wouldn't be mistaken f..for," my voiced dropped to barely audible..... "a..a girl. I didn't want to be seen walking with her - because - I thought the other kids would think that we were just two.....girls walking together."
I sat silent for a minute - I heard nothing and didn't try to read Christina.
Besides, I had told her I wouldn't upstairs.
"No, only Christina knew, how afraid I was of how, how, I feared being looked at; especially when we walked together. I mean, even in elementary school I got teased alot. The other guys would always sing when they saw me, "you dress like a boy - but, you look like a girl." I, I don't think there was a single day, even from first grade, that I didn't get trashed. Golly, even my teachers would tell me how they couldn't tell the difference between us and how cute I looked and how I should've been a girl!
"Anyhow, that's part of the reason I acted like I did, but, but.......there's alot more." My body began to shake. "Mom - Dad, I like girls, really. I mean, they way they look, and dress and, and, I, uh, guess, how...s...sexy th...they look or can be! Gosh, I love the way they walk and can move their butts ever so slightly to send you over the edge! That they can crook their finger at a guy and turn him to mush! The clothes, so many, so different and so - so incredibly a turn on.....at least for me.
"B...but how can I even begin to show I like one or another when, wh...when...I really am not all there, and you know what I mean! I don't have much to impress any of them with in the working parts department! And, ohhh sure, the endo-chrono-logist is a real big help. Yea, I, I know I d...didn't s...say it right, but all he does is t..tell m..me that it w..will take t..time! He's a vampire! All he does is stick me with a needle and take my blood!
-
"Ohhh sure - he says that he can give me h..hormone shots, wh..which c..could h..help. Lower m..my voice and, ah, g..grow m..mmm..more hair. But, he, he, "couldn't guarantee anything!!?" And that goes with the way Mom cries whenver she comes out of his office...he tells her the results and she cries cause... they're....they're....so much horse shit!
"Yea, that's really a good one, goes with what I, I, told Christina I, I, w..was afraid of. That, that I would never really grow up and b..bb...become a man! But, I could still "look like a woman and talk - but talk - like a man!" WHY DONT I JUST CHANGE MY NAME TO LOLA.....L...O...L.....A, LOLA??!!!!!!!
I cried even harder - my sobbing cut my "confession" off for a moment. I remembered what Christina had said just a few minutes ago: I "pulled myself together." What a joke that is!
The washboard of tears that ran down my face, kinda mixed with the snot bubbles I was blowing. I was gonna wipe everything off with with the robe sleeve I was wearing, but Christina stopped my hand from wiping just before I got to my face. "No...take these" she said, and led my hand to several napkins. I tried to wipe myself dry as best I could...hell...I didn't even try to open my eyes...too - too ashamed to even try. I took several deep breaths then muttered "k."
I started again. "I knew, and I know, that when I looked or look around.... the way..... the way that things were..are.....sup..supposed to be. That.... that... there were girls and boys.....and..... when you grew.... up....when. .....you'd grown up......you'd find someone.... to l..love you - and you'd ......l..love back. I, I, dont.....know.... am I gonna be.... alone.... alone the...... rest of my life? Never having anyone to hold or love me? Am I gonna have to choose....choose....to stay the way I am or d...dd....do I, I......hafta ......
-
I cut myself short. "I never wanted to...to be around, all them dumb g..girls!......cause...m-maybe I, ah, would, ah g..get to like them too much. That, that, ah, m ..maybe they'ed rub off on me and ---Ohh crap---that maybe... I...I would like them too m..much.
"So, if, I, wasn't much of a boy and looked too much like a girl, that I'd might hafta, hafta...oh shit!.......," my voice now was almost gone; "be one. I didn't want to, but I might have to." I broke a forced smile and murmered: "Kobiashe Maru." I thought to myself: no win - either way.... and no way to rig the outcome.
I continued, speaking so low you'd have to strain to hear what I was saying."How, could I tell either of you what I was dreaming! You'd never believe me. You'd say that it was either "nothing to worry about" or spank me for "making up stories" like you always did. You know, little kids really do see monsters in the night, we see lotsa things. And, you adults just blow the dreams off, while we sit and cry....we really do see monsters, or angels or whatever else at night; cause were alone, with nothing else to distract us...no noise....just really, really dark and quiet.
"Honestly, I told Christina lotsa times about, so, so many things that would scare me on top of the dreams that always came back, night after night to never leave me alone. I was haunted!
"That's part of the reason or how I chanced upon Christina and her, our, angel. Christina had told me that she had a really scary dream and was really afraid.....I figured I could help her not have it....so I....played my Tick Tock game.
"If, if I told you about that, you'd have been angry at me and wouldn't have believed me, so what I could do?
"I wasn't afraid to do it either. Be - because there were many times when I would sit up in my own bed, look behind me, and find myself, sound asleep. I knew I was o.k. cause it all felt ....well right...it was me and I knew that I was o.k.
"It was a giggle. I could get out of bed walk around, check on Christina - to make sure she was o.k., then hop back in bed without a problem. I'll admit, - I felt like I was always holding my breath - in a crazy dream where I was an active player - sorta like my video games.
-
"Besides, I knew that if I was playing, then my bad dreams wouldn't get me.
"B..but, I....I.....never thought..... any...ah..thing a..bout g..get-ing back -into into me again: after I... had.... had helped.. m....m.....my s..s...sister. Th-there was n..never a, ah, prob...lem... be...before ..with me. S..so I, I figured that.....well, actually I was.... really.... ever so... so: wrong.
"I... .... I knew that, that Christina was so up-set that....that morning - cause she....she was crying.
"All through that day, whenever she looked at m..me - she would cry. I, I didn't understand wh..why she was crying and.....wh...whatsmore....why I couldn't read her.
"That was never a...problem b...be...fore.
"Her dreams must've been really, really bad. Even worser than mine!
"That nn...night - just before I went to b...bed - is when I really - decided to play Tick-Tock. I'd just g..go back and t..tell her.....t...t...tell her....." I moved my head from side to side, " I, d...don't really know wh..what I, ah, was gonna d...do , or even say. M..maybe, maybe, that she'd be o.k. and not to c..cry - well at least not too much, you know?
"I went to sleep saying my sleepytime song, or poem, or whatever you want to call it. B...but there were more w..words to it than Christina told both of you. But... I, can't... well I p..pr..promised I wouldn't use those exact words again.
I stopped my "desert-ta-tion" and took several deep breaths: and each was followed by me exhaling each with a big "fhuuu."I really tried to get my head settled.
I was about to go back and tell of my deal or promise that I made and about "Her."
While I was still crying, I kinda cracked a smile and like a little kid sing songed in my mind: I know things that you don"t know!....I know things that you don't know!
-
I was gonna try and be ever so serious. I only hoped that I wouldn't stutter too much. Damn that really got to me! Especially when I...did it in f..front of other k..kids. Their tt...teasing m..me was p..pretty, ah, well....b..brutal.
Anyhow, I managed to push my singsong aside and took a few controlled breaths to once again, slowly try to express myself. It was time to really just get it all over with. And if they didn't believe me or Christina...well...... I figured that they'd more readily accept a pound of horse manure than what either Christina or I had told or was gonna tell 'em.
I began, "Mom/Dad....Christina told you some of what went on that night....what I saw....how scared I was...and ....what she saw. But, but that's not all....Christina....stopped me short - of telling you and her - the rest." I whispered, "there's more ...alot more. I continued: "I really am gonna try not to cry alot, but...I...I ...don' think I can keep my eyes from leaking. And Mom, when I finish I'm gonna need to get changed again, so I won't even ask. K? I figured if she could ask rhetorical questions....why not me?
I'll start. "I remember......I remember.....that "She"....sat on my bed. Right beside me! That was after she told or motioned Christina back to her own room. My head was spining and my tummy didn't feel that good....I thought I was gonna hurl some major chunks! Sorry...maybe I should've said vomit?
"She was talking to me but I didn't want to hear her....I was really a..a...fraid.....and the closer I felt "Her" get near m..me...the more I tried to shy away....and....and....the "scared'er" I got. I could hear the "wow-wows" outside coming up to our house. I thought maybe they'ed been called and were gonna rescue me....but....no.....they passed the house by and left me all alone.
-
The "wow - wows" had come and gone and as they got farther and farther away from our house the clearer "Her" voice became.
I sure didn't want to hear anything she was saying and tried to scrunch my self up into a little ball and push further away from her. I know, tha...that at the same time I managed a high, whiney scream of terror.
As I cringed away from her and sobbed, I also heard, and...and..."felt" what she was telling me. "Take heart, my little one. Do not fear for yourself. You shall come to no harm." She said it alot a times. I shook my head and said "Noooo, I saw your eyes and the way y..you looked at m..me. I don't want to s...see you angry with m..me, especially with your eyes! And..and...and.... you took... my Christina away!"
I know that neither of us "talked to each other for awhile. That's when I felt her arm on my shoulder .... pulling me closer to her and to where "She" sat.
I tried to move away even further, but she held on to me....so firmly....yet....so...so...gently. She pulled me up close to her side and held firmly on to me....I cried harder...if that were possible....and again tried to get away from this, this thing that was telling me not to worry.
With her other hand, "She" began to stroke my hair...ever so gently; while at the same time whispering to me to "stop crying little one....stop crying."
Again, she repeated her request to me: over and over and over, until I did in fact stop crying. Well maybe not all together, but, I wasn't screaming or sobbing anymore.
It was at that time when she..... and to my surprise.....she.... lifted me up and sat me on her lap! Again, I tried to pull away. I didn't know what "She" was gonna do to me!
But even as I tried to pull away...."She" pulled me even closer - guiding my head down to rest upon "Her" chest. My crying increased once more and I knew that while I was really just so....so scared....that my crying would stain her gown.
I tried to pull my head away but "Her" left hand held me ever closer. She spoke to me again. "Do not concern yourself........my robe will not blemish with your lamentations." My thought was pretty clear..."Huh? What's tha...." She answered before I could finish my thought.
"It means, my little one, that your tears will not mark it." I quickly countered "well why didn't you sa..." She replied again before I could finish. "Indeed, you are both bold and brash, but, none-the -less priceless. Rest your head upon me, for we have much to do - and for you - there is so little time to return you...to where you should be."
Moments later "She" covered me with her robe, or gown, or part of it anyway. First with the left....then with the right..." It was the softest thing I'd ever felt. It was then that I felt safe... safe enough to bring my thumb to my mouth and, well, just make myself feel even better.
As "She " cradled me, the aroma of what smelled like perfume, sorta like oranges...I heard her voice correct me, saying "orange blossoms - though we know it as ambrosia." "It was ever so pleasing to smell.. and the scent seemed to come from her robe....and....and.....music....all kinds....all playing at the same time raced through my head. "Each song or melody was clear and not mixed with any of the others. I was spellbound at how wonderful this all was. I closed my eyes and sighed with contentment. I guess I fell asleep, cradled safetly in "Her" arms.... in the arms of, of.... an angel.
-
She woke me....by caressing my face and stroking my hair. She pulled me tighter to her chest and started to talk to me. "Yes..you have many questions....which in time will be answered. But, now...you must be as brave as you can be and return to your own bed. Stand before me and prepare yourself. For if you do not return...you will be lost forever."
As easily as she had sat me on "Her" lap...I was just as effortlessly placed on my feet.....Ohh, this was just great....naked in front of...."She" cut my thoughts off quickly..."There is no shame for you to stand before me as you were born into the world."
Lotsa things raced in my head. I didn't know what she was talking about...how could I lose me?.... and ...lost?....forever? As I stood naked before "Her" I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head from side to side....why didn't I want to...to get back into bed?.... why was I so afraid of me?....and.... why would I have trouble getting back into me and was that really me? I really didn't understand.
Now for the first time, instead of hearing "her" in my head, I heard "Her" with my ears. "All the questions you have are because of your game: which, you call...Tick-Tock. You, little one, have traveled from where you exist......to......where you once did exist. To face not only my sight, but also to see your loving counterpart in consultation and now of more concern....... to face yourself."
Now I really was confused. I guess you'd say bewildered....I started to think of how "She" went on...and on....talking about stuff ...that to me...well I, uh, didn't give a rat's butt about.
While "She" didn't laugh out loud at me, or what I was thinking, I felt or heard a chuckle....was "She" happy? "Yes, my precocious little one - you make me smile." I thought, "smile?"...not what I saw - made me pee in my jammies! Again, the light sound of soft laughter hit me.
Now in a merry voice she talked to me...."Come.... turn your head and look upon me... do not fear. Come now....turn to my voice.....you will not be frightened by my appearance. Trust me. I promise you."
I couldn't bring my self to look at "Her" I was very afraid of seeing "Her" flashing eyes. I saw her hand move across my face, and ever so gently come to rest on my left cheek. Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned my head to face "Her." "Come....Come ...little one...my brave wanderer."
I really couldn't stop from letting her turn my head...but I did close my eyes really hard and set my jaw....I wasn't gonna....I wasn't.....I....I....
-
Her hand moved back and forth on my cheek. So, so gentle a touch. I couldn't help myself and started to move my head....I guess... like a kitten or puppy dog would.... trying to get ever closer... to the satisfaction they were receiving.
At the same time, I knew I had to look...so I pulled in my cheeks, scrunched up my nose...and...and...ever so slowly allowed my eyes to become tiny slots: allowing just enough of a space to let me just barly see. She was....stuning! I held my breath ....and... opened my eyes wide while allowing my jaw to drop.
"Ohh....wow...wowee...oh geez,"was all I could think of or mutter." Her face, which scared me so much... now just radiated a light so pure it was almost hard to look at her. At the same time, the smell of "am-br-o-sia" was coming from her or her robe....even stronger. While I had stood in terror of "Her" a short time ago....I now felt myself drawing ever closer. The baby steps I took brought me face to face and closer than within arms reach.
Dare I? "Can ... can....I....t..touch y..." She nodded before I could finish what I was thinking. I lifted my right hand and placed my palm gently upon her face. My body began to tremble and shudder...not out of fear....but out of shear joy! I know I started to cry again....like a b..baby. But I didn't care. I just, just cried harder and extended my arms to her....I wanted to be held.....so badly....ever so badly...I asked ......."please?"
She accepted my request and took me to her. As she held me she spoke. "It is time, my brave wanderer, for you to return. Your own bed awaits you. If you stay longer, you, the precious one I now hold, will cease to exist - the past and present cannot supplement the other....one will die. Now, we must come to terms, a bargain or "deal" if you will.
You must promise me that you will never play your game, "to move the clock back. Your sister has been tasked and will speak to you when you awake. You will not remember this moment in time .....as it is for you and you alone to decide when you can remember. Your sister is the key to your knowledge....fail to heed her words and you shall forever be beset by your fears. Promise me also, that you will keep your promise: to me ...to yourself....and your sister. A deal?"
I cried my reply..."what... what... do you want....I mean.... yes.... I promise and it's a ....deal....but....but....what...do you get out of it?
Her reply was "YOU. You will not be lost to me or to the others who will need you."
I didn't understand.
A moment later "She" said that "you must leave now." I blurted a quick question to her...before I go.... can...can you tell me....." Again she knew my request before I spoke or thought it. With a broad smile "She" bent closer and whispered her name to me... "Now, my little one, my precious soul ....move the hands on the clock forward and return."
The next thing I remember was that I woke up in bed with wet sheets and Christina tapping me on the shoulder....she said...."we've gotta talk."
-
Chapter 2
I opened my eyes and blankly stared at Mom and Dad. Both had the look of utter disbelief written all over their faces. I'd seen those looks before....I cringed and sorta dropped my head and tilted it down to the left...I whispered to Christina, but Mom and Dad could still hear me: "T..Thanks... f...for help...helping m...me" - I forced a sorrowful smile.
She had a puzzled look on her face....I read her soft reply "Chris...What are you talking about? I didn't do a thing. You did it all by yourself." "Sure you did," I said, "you...you wraped your hand around, around my shoulders, and, and told me to settle down....and...and ttto... t...take my...my time and...and...and y..you gave me the napkins so's I could wipe my nose!"
Now she spoke out loud - "honestly, Chris....ask Mom and Dad, I didn't move!" Christina turned to our parents..."please, tell him, I didn't touch him or move at all!"
I looked over to them and they both nodded in agreement with my sister.
I shook my head, side to side replying - "Nooo, I know, it...it was your voice, I, I, ah know it! Honest!" Wh...why would I ma...make it up? It was you! Th...There"s no one else here who could ...could have done it or, or....help me get thru it all!"
"Mom/Dad....honest.... honest.....I....know you...both don't believe me," I was crying real hard again, "about what I tol...d yooo ....ab...aba...out the... the... angel; but...but Christina did help me! .....she did! ....she did!"
Mom spoke up and tried to settle me down. "Perhaps you need a time out Christopher. I'm sure it will do you good and you can calm yourself and then try to straighten out your..." "MOM....I know wh..what your...t..trying to, ah ....do....you think, you think I've freaked!...and now you want me.. t..to ch...change my....my thoughts about...about what....what ...I know happened....WELL ITS NOT GONNA WORK......O.K....DON'T BELIEVE ME - SEE IF I CARE - BUT....BUT...I'M NOT GONNA TAKE ANYTHING BACK!!!!
I stood up and pushed my chair back away from me with my right leg. I was not only hurt but for some reason realy angry at them for not believing me. I continued....SURE, YOUR GONNA PUNISH ME CAUSE I'M TALKING BACK TO YOU BOTH...BUT I KNOW THINGS THAT YOU DONT KNOW...AND...YOU KNOW WHAT?....YOU BOTH GOT SECRETS....THAT YOUR NOT TELLING US OR EACH OTHER ABOUT....YA WANNA KNOW WHAT THEY ARE? DADS BUTT IS SITTING ON A BIG CHECK IN HIS WALLET....AND HIS NICKNAME IN SCHOOL WAS STINKY...AND YOU....YOUR PREGNANT...GONNA BE TWINS....AND YOU KNOW HOW, HOW I KNOW, SHE TOLD ME. THAT'S HOW...SO THERE!!!!"
I halted my tirade - giggled out loud - and spoke softly...."Guess this is...is ....gonna be....what's known as....a pregnant pause."
"I really g..gotta get ch...changed, so's I'm g..g..going upstairs....can either of you help, please? Neither Christina or Mom moved - I guess they were just as stunned at my outburst as I was. I Muttered... "that's o.k....I understand....I'll do it my...myself."
I walked away from the table, and everyone sitting there, and got to the bottom of the stairs and turned around to face them. Oh, and the...the name of the angel was.....like Christina's middle name....Athena.
I walked slowly up the stairs and turned right into my room...closed the door...then laid face down on my bed and cried into my pillow.
-
Only a couple of minutes had past when I read Christina. Before she could knock I said, "Come on in Christina - you don't hafta knock." I heard the door hinges squeek as she entered. "I know, you came up to help me change, cause Mom and Dad are goin at it...and...but, really you have questions for me about "Her." Right?
She sat on my bed and started to rub my shoulders. Oh come on Christina...the main reason you came up wasn't really to change me...you want to know why she let me touch "Her" and you didn't or couldn't. And, please don't rub me like your doin, like I'm some kind...of dooffus. I'll answer your questions, but only in front of Mom and Dad....if I'm gonna get punished, I sure don't want you in the middle of it. 'Cause they're gonna ask you did I say "anything else?" So you can answer truthfully - no. So if I'm not gonna talk...do y..you ....still wanna...change me?"
She made no attempt to speak out... but... thought "I understand...but I gotta get diapers for you and plastic panties...I mean pants, sorry. Be right back." She must've known where Mom had stashed all of that crap cause it didn't seem to take her all that long.
Geez I felt dumb. Having to wear diapers for now was bad enough...but getting changed by...by my sister was kinda unsettling. It din't take long to unsnap the plastic pants and pull them out from under my butt. Then, she untaped my purple diaper...balled it up and put it in the trash can in my bathroom. Her mind was clear...."Oh wow! your getting some type of major rash! Your gonna need lotion...wait a sec."
-
Only seconds later she returned and giggled with laughter while extending her hand to me. "Here, read this!" she chortled. The tube read "butt balm."...I snickered at its name as well. She continued...."you know...the rash is all over you, front and back....your not gonna get upset when I?....well...I got to rub all over you!" "Go ahead," I told her, I guess I'll live thru it....I just don't....want ....to...get....crap!...just do it. K?"
Nodding yes, she got a wash cloth from my bathroom, ran some hot water, as she wet it down she told me "ya gotta move your hands away, have to wash you down, you know?" Without a word... I slowly complied.
She washed my crotch first. Damn! It stung. Then had me roll over and then did my butt. I thought to myself...well ... this wasn't all that bad...at least I....hadn't gotten excited. Then came the shocker.
While lost in my thoughts, Christina had laid another heavy purple diaper, with three soakers by my side and chuckeled "..gonna do your butt first...so get ready......butt cream city!" A split second later her hand roamed over my now stinging butt. Damn it was cold.
Her fingers didn't miss a spot on either cheeck....but now began to reach down into my....my crack...."I'm not getting fresh Chris, honest" she thought. I didn't say anything. With her touching me there I was trying not to get, how could I get....
"C'mon roll over ...time to do your front."
-
"Uh, Christina...I don't think I should turn over right now.....I'm kinda.."
She cut me off, "YOUR the one who said he wasn't gonna get embarrassed and YOU told me to go ahead....besides I've seen alot of boys when I change their diapers whenever I baby sit...it almost always sticks up and kinda jumps around a bit. Damn Chris, your no different than any other boy! I promise, I won't laugh and I'll make it quick. O.K?"
Without reply I slowly turned, while cupping my hands as best I could to hide my problem - only to find my butt on the diaper she had laid out.
With her thought...."Ya gotta take your hands away so's I can finish you off" I cringed and told her "that's...that's what I'm really afraid of right now! You don't know how hard it is to.....NO....I didn't mean it like that, honest!
She laughed out loud and with a grin said, "Ya know...all the boys at school sometimes "sport major wood!" Us girls always talk about it and some of the boys even brag ....oh....crap....sorry I didn't mean to .." I cut her up short..."You know...I understand all of that and I'm not upset with you for thinking that....but...but for m..me...it's not "major".....it's mm...more... m..more l..like a... m..minor league splinter!" She smiled at my analogy.
Thankfully, I actually did not make a mess as she spread the goo all over my front side. I breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed. Moments later she pulled the diaper up between my legs and quickly taped all four tabs. She presented the same plastic pants for me to put on. "After all," she said, "they weren't wet."
-
I muttered to myself...."how...how juvenile....and more for a girl than a boy! Where'd mom get these things?" My pants were normally solid white or solid blue with an occassional dark green thrown into the mix. Christina presented the robe for me to wear again. She could understand my reluctance as I slowly put it on.
My face betrayed my obvious thoughts....in a matter of fact fashion she added: "it's either this or just go down as you are....you know their gonna have questions...so...what'll it be?" I accepted the offer to cover up and once again wore the robe.
"C'mon...let's get your face cleaned up...you sit at your dresser and I'll get a fresh wash cloth - and wipe all the dried up tears off your face ....then comb your hair out" I guess she was going into her "big sister to little brother" mode again.
As she washed my face she began to think. "You know Chris...looking at both of us together ....it really is difficult to tell us apart. I'm not trying to make you feel bad but we have the same auburn hair, about the same length, same green eyes, nose, ears and even our eyebrows, 'cept I tweeze mine, are the same-gosh we even have the same build. I'm really glad your not some neanderthal looking dork!"
"You mean," I shot back, "that because I'm a carbon copy of you that its better for you? That if I looked more like most guys - you wouldn't be... ah....g.. glad that I was...was ....your br...brother or happy to see me?
-
"NO! that wasn't what I was going to lead up to....so don't jump to anymore conclusions! What I was leading into.....well....I...know your not.....really happy about your body and, uh, body parts...so I was only thinking out loud....that....that.....well you even said that you might have "to be a girl!"
I was only glad that....if you....decided to....you wouldn't look...look so out of place. It'd be real easy...to fit in... 'cause we look so much alike.....besides.....you've been my little brother for so long, and so unhappy about being taken for a girl, that if... ah... you ever decided to, well, it'd be o.k. with me.
I didn't reply. I didn't know how. My very confessions were being addressed by my sister. Besides, a very light knock on the half closed door was coupled with an ever so cautious request from Mom..."may we come in?"
Mom and Dad had maybe finished up what was between them and now were going to deal with me. I thought to my self..."happy - happy - joy -joy."
-
I sullenly replied, "since your both already in....I guess the question is moot." Mom and Dad's faces were not pleased by my reply. I didn't care and continued..."you know....asking to come into my room...when your already coming into it, in all so kissy - kissy a voice .....just makes me sick!
You guys really don't have a clue! I told you everything, everything I could remember....and what...what do I see when I open my eyes but the same faces that would trash me for what you both said was for "telling stories or lies." Damn! Even, even when you'd both ask me if, if I could tell you why I'd wet the bed, I'd answer you truthfully: no, I can't. And you'd both follow up with "well why CAN'T you?" And my reply would always be the same: "I just can't ...that's all."
"And now, when I do remember because of "Her" you still won't believe me....just the same old stories and lies that you think I'm telling. Your both ....so concerned... but its always whenever it really doesn't involve trust or belief on your parts. So's which one of us is the real horses patoot?!"
-
I looked in the mirror at my sister's face. Astonishment! I read her clearly, "damn....you had the balls to say that! And, and you never stuttered!" Smiling, I silently nodded at her reflection.
I pointedly ignored Mom and Dad....and spoke up..."Sis...you said you were gonna comb my hair....still wanna?"
She took my cue, removed both barrets, and proceded to brush it back...this time in what she silently described as a more "stylish fashion." I knew what she meant ...but didn't really care....least wise not that much.
I glanced over to where my parents still stood in absolute stunned silence - and spoke without really acknowledging their continued precence. "Ya know, this is my room, at least it is for now....so for right now I don't want to talk to either of you, in here, anymore, least wise not yet. I'll come downstairs in a couple of minutes.....so if you both wanna talk then.....I'll listen and maybe even reply....they left without a word being said by either.
-
MY abject dismissal of Mom and Dad worked its was across Christina's face. Shaking her head she quized me.
"Do you now what you just did?! Chris! you just dissed both of them!"
I fired back just as quick...."so it's o.k. for them to do it to me...because I'm smaller? Is it o.k. to feign their comfort, while actually, dismissing me as a mental deficient? Besides, I'd rather get punished by them, than face Athena....knowing what I should have said and didn't because of me being a coward, too afraid to stand up for what I know is the truth."
Looking at the clock on my nightstand I shrugged my shoulders and whispered...."gonna be a long night. My butt is gonna get blistered, I'm already wrung out and still, still I have to go to sleep....do I dream all the nightmares again....or ....do I start new ones?
"Guess I... well.... we... if you want to..... might as well go downstairs. As I left Christina I turned to her, wait a min.....I don't think you want to be near me when I go down....they might assume you knew what I was gonna say. So for now....steer clear. K?
I never waited for her to reply and tried to tune her out. I nervously stepped down the twenty two treds....and counted each as I moved downstairs. Again, both Mom and Dad sat in the dining room. This time, however, there was not an animated one way discussion in progress.
It was quite obvious that I, upon reaching the last step, had gained their undivided attention....and would remain the focal point of what was to happen.
-
Walking towards them I read no outward sings of them really being pissed at me. Instead, through their silence, long faces and now bleary eyes I instead....felt some sort of sympathy....for them both.
With resignation, of what was surely to occur, I asked...."Should I get the paddle now or do I have to wait until later?
Dad's reply was immediate...."No...there'll be no paddle now or later. Please sit. O.K?" I greatfully acknowledged his statement with an audible sigh of relief ..... and took a seat directly opposite them both. Mom's mascara was running and her ever so self-assured composure, which she normally exhuded, was gone. I didn't feel very good about that...and started to tear up. I cringed at seeing her...I really didn't want to make her cry. Honestly. Dad looked whipped, as if something was eating at him ...besides me mouthing off.
Whereas Mom was almost always the one to lead the way..... tonight was different. I started to speak but Dad cut me off. "No... let me...and do not interrupt.... Chris, neither I or your mother will ask you to take back or deny any portion of what you or your sister have told us this evening. And yes, our difficulty in believing is....self serving. Regretfully neither of us had even paused to lend your nightmares or stories credance. And you were right...a childs dreams or nightmares are all to easily dismissed by those who should instead understand and in many cases believe that what they saw is indeed all too very....very real.
"Admittedly, it is difficult for a supposed grown up to believe ...... no ...that's not really right to say. What is right to say is our faith in you and Christina was lacking...and regretfully that our need to believe in something mystical or so wonderful was so sorely lacking..... for a very long time.
He broke from his train of thought and told Christina to sit down beside me. While sitting, she thought out loud..."I was right behind you all the way...never caught up with you until Dad started....remarkable!"
Dad smiled fondly at her .... then continued.
-
Dad shook his head, side to side, and went on. "Chris....I didn't know I was going to get the check, the one you said I had in my wallet, until this afternoon. I didn't have time to tell your mom and I certainly know I didn't tell you. The check was a bonus for closing a very important business transaction. Yet you knew I had it. Only three other people knew I received it. My boss, his secretary and the accountant who wrote it...and I don't think any of them called you up special to tell you. So.." he trailed off and actually whispered...."how did you?"
"And...."stinky?"....there's only one person that's ever called me that. A long long time ago....so again I'll ask .....how did you?"
I replied..."I told you....Athena told me. And I'll start with your last question. That one is easy...I didn't realize how prophetic my statement was. You kissed a girl after a track work out and she called you stinky....you thought it was because you were sweaty and smelled bad. But really Dad everyone called you that behind your back. You were such a great guy that they didn't want to hurt your feelings by calling you that name to your face....sorta like a pact among friends that stayed there."
Dad's face betrayed his unspoken puzzlement? I looked over to Mom...she was taking this all in.
I continued...."Dad you were a crop duster." As soon as I said it Christina rolled off her chair and was in hysterical laughter on the floor. I know that a broad grin was now written all over me and that I was about to erupt in uncontollable laughter as well. It was obvious that neither Mom or Dad had a clue about what the term meant.
I couldn't help myself and burst out laughing as well. Now in halting speach....I explained....giggling and grinning as I did....and at the same time I wet my diapers down. Geez even laughing too hard does it to me!
"Dad....a....a....crop....crop....duster.....is....is.." Dad interrupted with "but I've never flown a plane, and certainly, not in high school!"
With his response...I couldn't help my self, I rolled out of my chair and joined my sister howling with glee on the floor..... Dads reply only served to increase her outcries of uncontrolled merriment......my sides were aching as I tried to catch my breath and gasped....."n..no Dad, you....you...don't under....stand....a crop....cropduster is someone...someone who....who....oh....geez Dad...its someone who cuts farts and walks away from them!!!......and thinks that....that nobody's seen or heard...them.....you....yours....were always..... always silent but really....really .....deadly! Every....every where you...went you'd leave...leave a.....a...vapor trail!!!
-
"As the moments passed, so too did our uncontrolled laughter. Christina hit me with the thoughts that maybe Dad wasn't taking this at all that well. "Maybe your right," I rejoined.
I broke away from the floor and crawled back over to the chair I had been sitting in. I perched myself on both of my elbows and snuck a peek over the table top...there ...I saw both Mom and Dad doubled over....in silent laughter. Mom was crying and Dad was a bright beet red.
I quickly resumed my seated position, as did Christina, and waited to answer the second question. Eventually they both regained some measure of composure and smiled until I went on with my second answer.
My eyes started to water again as I explained...."Dad....
-
"I...well....the first question you asked....isn't maybe what you want to hear....all I know is that "She" told me to tell you...... that... you had a big check in your wallet.... that, "yes, you earned what you had, but it wouldn't buy what you wanted it the most for".... I really don't know anything else about it. Dad started to say something, looked to Mom, she nodded back at him and whispered...."honey...it's alright..don't cry... tell him."
He turned and looked so pitifully at me. "Chris...I...I...worked really hard for it, damn I busted my butt for it!!!.....but...it was never going to be mine....it was....was going to be for.... an operation for you.....to...to.."
"DAD....STOP.....DON'T....PLEASE DON'T SAY ANYTHING ELSE....PLEASE DON'T..." I paused to whisper....."I ...I....know.....guess I'll always have more room in my underwear than ....."
I hung my head and cried....Crap!!...I had thought it was something to really get Dad's attention with....but actually.....it was mine.
-
Chapter 4
I guess...as I started feeling sorry for myself...my head started to spin....."I'm never gonna grow up and be a man....just gonna stay a ....a....cloned image....well .....another "just great" nightmare that's gonna come true...at...at least...they're.... they're not going to throw me off a cliff and ..... and watch me hit the ground....yea....that one gets me going....and I know they're not gonna chase me down and ....and...." I felt a nudge on my shoulder...Christina was talking to me....softly...."Chris? You alright?"
I tried to open my eyes but....really....I couldn't stand to look a her or Mom and Dad. "No...not now.....honest...I don't ....feel all that good.....so before I get sick....before you came up Mom wanted to know what "wow-wows" were.....they're....they're the sirens on police cars....when they're in a hurry to get someplace they turn them on....so's you hear 'em go "wow-wow." And, and her ha..having twins...."She" said "don't....have them."
"I think, I ....really need to go to...to bed....may I please be excused? I wasn't gonna wait for a reply....started to get up but had one thing to say and clear up before I did.
Christina....this...this....afternoon....I...I....yelled at you...."you couldn't make me"......go with the picture girl....that's really ever so true.....no one's gonna make me....I....I...gotta make myself.
"But...but...can...can I meet ....meet her.... here....before I ...ah...we....oh geez....I don't want...couldn't stand to....melt down....at...at school.
I teettered-totted when I tried stand....my legs gave way and ....the....the next thing I knew I was being carried up the stairs by Dad...I pushed my head to his shoulder and sobbed into it....."Daddy....
-
I don't remember anything else. When next my eyes opened, I found that Mom was sitting beside me reading a book and that....there was someone in bed with me....of course....Christina's thoughts ran through my head. She gave me a silent entreat to waken - "c'mon...wake up...ohhh - please wake up." "I am...what....what happened?" She began her silent narration of last eve's activities after I had dropped from exhaustion.
"First off, Daddy, carried you up stairs. Put you to bed. Me and Mom changed your diaper. We didn't want to wake you, like we really could - you know?...so's Mom had me get you one of my night shirts...."
I cut her short...."you mean I'm wearing....a...a...nighty?" As soon as I said that Mom's eye's moved from her book to me....but said nothing....she was gonna let my sister and I talk. Christine's silent narration went on..."yea, it's one of the new ones I bought last week...pink with a ruffled white lace collar and ever so short sleeves which come off the shoulder about four inches....they're bordered the same as the collar. And over your heart is the cutest little hand stiched lavender and white butterfly.
"Don't say a word until I'm finished then you can whine!" I merely nodded....what else could I do?
"Anyhow, we talked for a long time - we had to - and, yes, it was about you....Mom's gonna tell you what....what was decided. I didn't think much of what they concluded but, both of 'em said that you had made a deal with 'em and you'd promised to do what ever the decisions might be....so they're gonna hold you to it.
Oh, and I called Melinda....she and her mom are gonna be over here about three this afternoon. So....you can see her in person. K?"
I sat up and looked at Mom ...then the nighty I was wearing...."Mom? a pink nighty....why not just a "T" shirt? I mean...." She hushed me...bringing the first finger of her right hand to her lips.
-
Mom spoke softly, yet ever so directly at me....."listen carefully and don't argue with what decisions have been made." As I shook my head, I shrugged and returned her solid gaze with a quizical look.
"You remember when you asked to do somethings in school....and in return....promised not to argue whatever decisions that were made? You remember...don't you? "Yes ma'm...but ....I didn't or was a part of whatever decision that was made....and what decision was made?"
A smile crossed her face....."Chris....there was never any mention that you were to be a part of the decisions that were made....only that you'd abide by them...and not argue as to their finality. Now think....am I telling you the truth....isn't that what you agreed to?
Dumbfounded, I could only nod yes. "You mean, that ...that ....you and Dad....tricked me?" "No....no trickery....you agreed of your own free will...so now....will you keep your word or not?"
The names of Morgan, Bartholomew and Barbossa went racing through my head. I muttered...and mumbled stuff about trickery and not being fair....guess it wouldn't make any difference now.
Dad walked through the door, never said a word, just looked at Mom and Christina.
I didn't know what I was agreeing to....but felt I was bound by the deal I had made with both of them. Regretfully and with considerable trepidation said...."I agree to your decisions....but .....don't I get to know what I'm agreeing to? After all....."
-
She nodded...then began...."Quite reasonable a request. Listen...and do not interrupt....all of us are aware of your conflicted fealings. This decision is not to humiliate, punish or in any way cause further distress to you. It is however, one which your father and I, hope will clear your thoughts....as to your living life as a girl or seeking other means to hopefully make you secure in your being a boy.
"From this afternoon, after your visit with Melinda, you will assume the role of Christina's younger sister. You will dress as a girl during the day and a portion of the evening...for the next two weeks.
"Moreover, until you can sleep five consecutive nights without a wetting accident you will wear diapers to bed.....all of your clothes, except for the pants you will wear this afternoon....have been locked away. What you wear, every day will be determined the night before you wake up.
Besides evening diaper changes....your sister will assist in dressing you and help with your make-up. You will assist in the kitchen, both in the preparation of meals and the subsequent clean up which follows."
Christina's thoughts cut in...."damnit Chris...I tried to talk them out of this...but they wouldn't listen....said it was time for you to face life!" I blurted out "face life!....what the hell do they think I've been doing for so long?!!"
Mom looked to Christina...."don't distract your...."sister"... with your thoughts...they'll only serve to complicate the situation." Christina would have none of her explanation....."That's all a bunch of crap! and both of you know it! He didn't do anything to deserve what you both are gonna lay on him! Sure I'm gonna help him and I'm gonna talk to him, my way, and there's not a damn thing you can do about that!"
Dad walked over and stood beside Mom.....I was thunderstruck and couldn't believe what she just told me....."not right, its not right....it's my choice to make...not yours or Dads....so I'm confused...I admit it....but now you've got Christina involved....and for what!!...to...to....oh crap! shit! and every other word I can throw in right now....."face life"...you want me to face life!....you both don't know half the nightmares that kill me everynight. Yea, I told Christina that they were really, really bad....and... she...she believed me. I never told her the parts that would really scare the hell out of her! I kept 'em all to myself! You don't want me to stress....bullshit! All this is...is....payback for me mouthing off to both of you last night!
-
"You both said I couldn't argue the decision...well I'm not!
"I'm arguing the reasoning behind it! It suc-ks! I never realized how shallow and unhonorable you both are!
"Your both supposed to love me and Christina...but instead you demean her by making her do stuff she doesn't want to do....and take one of my most feared nightmares and turn it into some warped sense of accomplishment....for me t..to...t...to "face reality"....bullshit!!"
"You know ......I'm gonna wear whatever you s..set out ....but....but....I'm gonna be a real bitch!....
"And I'm sure as hell not gonna forget this!! You wanna turn me into some kind of sissy!! Well your not and I'm not!
"Both of you would puke if you really knew what my nightmares were like!!.....Or maybe you don't think they're all that bad....I asked you both to leave my room last night....and I'm gonna tell you again....GET OUT...JUST GET OUT...PLEASE.....JUST LEAVE."
Dad started to talk, and, I guess he thought better of it. Mom again started to say something but Dad said "No....let it be...lets go downstairs...he looked at me and inquired, "You will be down for breakfast, won't you?"
"Yes sir, I'll be down soon."
-
As they left I turned to my sister...."I know...that you brought up what you said to me ...last night...about fitting in..... cause I look like you was a nice way to try and help me...and...and...that you didn't think what they did after you went to sleep was.......was........very nice........can I...I just be alone for a minute or t...ttwo. I...I...jus...just need some t..ti..muh alone.
As she nodded her consent, she paused and gave me a light kiss on the cheeck. Then proceded to storm out of my room and literally seem to fly down the stairs...I never felt her so angry before. While I wanted time to collect myself... her thoughts were ever so clear and ever so angry...that I never got the chance too really be alone. For the first time ever, not only could I read her mind....but also seemed to be able to see what she was looking at. She came face to face with them both and exploded.
"How could you do such a horrid thing! I told you both that I had breached the subject with him....why didn't you listen...why didn't you let him make the chioce on his own terms and conditions...NO! you had to go in like thieves in the night and steal his clothes!
"To you they're just jeans and shirts....but to him....they're what matters the most....his connection to being a boy!.....and did you do this brave and honorable deed while he was awake....OH NO! ...when he was the most vulnerable you both ripped him off of not only his clothes but also whatever confidence he might have had to make his own decision!
"For what! You really think that two weeks is gonna cure him?! Are you both gonna wave some majic wand and sprinkle fairy dust on him and expect anything but hostility in return! He was right! You two ARE a pair of cowards!
"Mom...how callous, demeaning and condescending are you? You'd sit in his room and dictate terms and conditions to which he was not involved in....as he is just awaking from another night of terrible dreams....Did you even notice his eyes or look at his pillow? He cries in his sleep....and the pillow isn't wet because he suc-ks his thumb...it's wet because even in his sleep he is terrified and weeps!
"And, in such haughty, almost gleeful a fashion, and with an all too wicked a smile, sit as if judging him from a throne, ask him if he remembers what he promised? What guile and such trickery to use on someone you supposedly love!
"Dad...was your concern so shallow that when he told you the operation wouldn't work....dissolve? Were all those nice words you told him so much crap?!! He might only have one testicle....but he's alot more of a man than you are! A lot braver and....and....oh...shit....you both suc-k major league!!
"What's gonna happen when his friends come back from vacation and he has to meet them dressed like a girl. Did you ever consider that he'd be trashed not only by them but in school too? Oh sure, he hasn't come home with any black eyes from school....yet.
I'm really, ever so ashamed of both of you...how could you?
-
"How could you?! I'm only in the eighth grade but from what I know....he's the most trusting and unfortunately for believing you'd never hurt him, gullible child I know.
"I can't think of a thing he's ever said or done that wasn't truthful or honestly performed and without reservation for both of you! And how do you repay him?....by shredding his hopes? His fondest desire? To use his very confessions against him as a tool to achieve a time certain outcome to ease both of your "burdens?"
I reached my sisters side as she went on and tried to halt her explosion...."Christina....I think you gotta stop. Honest....ya gotta..."Now she cut me off! "Chris...SIT DOWN AND BE QUIET!" I took the chair to the left of her. She looked at me and began to smile while placing her hand on my right shoulder.
Perhaps you both can show some compassion? After all....your the ones who reached this decision....why can't you....stretch it a bit....and maybe not be so draconian?"
I was truly befuddled...what the hell was she talking about now....dragons?
As my brother's representative, since I've been charged with changing his diapers, dressing him and doing his make up and I'm sure alot of other crap your were gonna blast both of us with....I suggest a modest change in agreed to terms or conditions. As he has already agreed to your noble bullshit, I don't think it'd be any skin off your collective butts to modestly alter some of the one's you set.
Specifically: first.. you hang his clothes back from where you both stole them....and to the dresser from which they came....second....that...and it may be presumptuous of me to conclude this, the various girls clothes you were going to buy for him to wear will also hang in his closet and placed in his dresser. Third, that at some point in each consecutive day he agrees to try on some of the clothes....as a personal test....of whether he likes or dislikes being in them. Fourth, that he will help with the dishes and food prep. Fifth, that he will have his own perfume...." She glanced over to me and whispered, "I know you really like the aroma most of them have and wish you could have them as well...and no I didn't read your mind yesterday when you hugged me...." She giggled and explained, "you also....talk in your sleep."
-
"Sixth, that his current hairstyle not be so drastically altered so as not to cause undo scrutiny at school. Seventh, that he request every evening a basic in make-up application...of course, and no offense to you "dear" Mommy, I'll instruct him. Eighth, that when he does go to sleep at night that he use a pacifier."
Again she looked to me....as my mouth dropped open she explained: Chris...just look at your left hand....no not your palm silly ....turn it over and look at your thumb. You see the callous raised on the knuckle....that's thumbsuc-kers thumb. Go to any site and look it up...and take in all the pics.....you'll see all the boys and girls with the same callous. Even if you don't want to be a girl....that's a dead give-a-way to someone who's not a dope....savvy?"
Turning her attention, once more, to our parents..."So....Mom...Dad....will you agree or are you both gonna screw him?!
Both looked to the other.....inhaled and simultaneously nodded.
Without a hint of the sarcasm she had heaped on Mom and Dad she asked me out loud, "So my dear brother, will that work for you...and I know....you will be honest." I nodded my consent and whispered, "yea, that's a hell of a lot better than what I thought I was gonna have to go through.
-
An awkward and tense silence filled the room. And if silence could create a void... this hole would need major work. For some time we looked at each other, each searching for a means of communication that would offend no one nor raise the the heated emotion shown by Christina and unleashed upon Mom and Dad.
Dad broke the ponderous if not breath catching silence by asking if I would care for some breakfast. I respectfully declined, citing an upset stomach...which was in fact true. He quickly followed with "then maybe some water or milk?" I knew he was searching for a way to get out of where we'd just been ...I cautiously replied... "Just some water thank you."
He offered..."Christina?"
"Maybe... half a glass of water...thanks."
I knew, that Christina and I, had conspicuously avoided any type of parental nomenclature. Mom followed suit with..."cookies? toast? bisquets?" Neither of us replied verbally....together we shook our heads to the negative. She was starting to show signs of a major crying jag. So I figured what the hell...."sympathy for the devil."
"Uh Mom...were you really gonna buy me girls clothes of my own? She nodded yes, and added, "I was going to take both of you to the mall and do some shopping and maybe stop in at Claudettes. I called her last night ..and....and....well....I...was thinking ....about your ....hair. But we don't have to go, if you don't want to, I'll call her back and.... cancel.
Christina chimed in...."Mom....you really weren't gonna let any grass grow under his feet were you....you jumped right in and set something up for him to walk into....like a lamb to the slaughter....what was it gonna be...."sausage curls?"
Mom started to protest but was cut off by Dad...."quit it....just stop ....it's bad enough that we look like so much horse manure and now I find out that you called your girl friend behind my back! What in the hell is wrong with you! I really didn't want to go along with this coc-k and bullshit you cooked up and now I'm even more certain that I was a fool to listen to you!
"Christopher.... Christina...I really am sorry....this has gone way to far....as far as I'm concerned there is no decision...." I interrupted, "DAD wait....I didn't like what you guys had decided and the way Mom told it, well it was a load of crap! But....but I...I gotta... j..just gotta know if...if...m...maybe ....with Christina's helping m..me...m.. maybe - I gotta t...try.
"S...so I respectfully decline your offer to withdraw the terms and conditions that we've or I've agreed to." Christina looked at me and shook her head....she didn't think it ...but said it out loud...."your one brave son-of-a-bitch....and maybe too noble as well."
-
I turned back to Mom..."O.K. I'll go...as long as you swear and I really mean it.... that when I walk out of there ....that I won't look like a fruitcake! Cause if I do....I'll cut it all off myself! A forced smile crossed her face. But then, for some reason, she asked the most piercing question I had faced, would face or had ever thought about answering.
"Christopher, forgive me...but I must ask...and Lord knows I should have before...but several times you've reffered to your dreams as "terrible...really...really bad....they'd make you puke or scare the hell out of you." Yet you told your sister you had bad dreams but you left out, what? some? ...alot?....what was so bad that you couldn't tell her or us? And yes I know, there is an issue of trust, especially on your part towards me or your father...so will you tell me, all of us, now what was so terrible?
I broke into a sweat....shook my head no "don't think you really wanna know....and...and 'sides ...I d...dd...don't w.w.want C...Christina t..to hear." "OHH no Chris....I have just as much right to hear what you've been so afraid of every night for almost the time I remember you coming into my room and crying, scared to death and with wet jammies. Uh...Uh...on this Mom's dead on!" She didn't know her choice of words were so true.
I looked to Dad...in hopes of a reprieve....no such luck..."No Chris...tell us all of it....son....I really want to know why....why you are so frightened."
If I tell you guys....your not gonna like it. Honest. Your not.
Christina spoke, "C'mon Chris...tell us, please?"
"You really d...don't know what y..your asking f...f...for...and when...when I...I d..do start y'all gotta promise, your most sacred promise, that you won't s..stop m..me or interrupt m..me until .... until I'm thru. P..promise?"
-
Chapter 5
A nod from each who now sat across and beside me was given. I closed my eyes, which now began to weep and began my odyessy of nightmares.
"All that I am began before I was born. The visions of my present conception and pasts deaths weighs upon me; for I have promised to weep for those who preceded me until we can meet once more in life, then embrace, in joyous reunion.
I stand outside the malestrom and with some amusement note the tribulations of one particular participant. He is bounced and repelled from the goal he seeks, which lies ahead, and so dutifully guarded by the beasts. With each rebuff, his resolve grows stronger, and with each rebuff he realizes that his stregnth shall soon wane.
A moment of clarity sweeps his thoughts, it is not a direct route of travel but rather a weave....he must avoid contact to reach his objective: that opague membrane, sanctuary and giver of eventual life. While at times he is thrown back, it becomes easier for him to circ-umvent the beasts.
Their howling at his success is compounded by the rush of liquid, and the roar of its passing.... to swim upstream, against the tide and still avoid his demise shall not be so easy a task.
I am also struck at how easily I understand the thoughts of the little creature....until understanding.... that the creature I view and muse over is infact me. I am drawn to its form, and as I am encased within....realize the the pressing need to succeed...
I bolster my resolve and press myself against the tide quicker than before. The beasts, whose gauntlet I have run are now behind me, but still pursue. The bulkward ahead will present little difficulty, as I am small enough to squeeze through its various nooks and cranies.
At long last the membran is attainable....I must search for an entrance and quickly. My frenetic pace is met with success, a small opening....affords me entry. The beasts following my form howl in rage at my success. But they're rants soon dissolve to silence.
Within my sanctuary there is security and peace. I will dwell within its walls...secure. Yet, I realize that another has preceded me....it calls to me to join her. I move towards her form...she is no larger than I ....but she speaks to me none-the -less. "Come my brother - I am glad that we are joined and you are not lost to me forever."
-
As we walk the pebble path, I held fast to the hand of Odysseus, who was second favored by the Achaens greatest warrior. Were it not for Patroclus' death at the hand's of my father....I cease my walk and pull back on the hand of the warrior beside me.
I turn and gaze at the field below....the house of Priam has fallen....smoke and flames billow from within its walls. The lamentations of women, who will soon be slaves or concubines is carried to me by the wind. The air I breath is bitter.
Before the gates of the city they are marched. Each wails at her loss, of husband or of child...for the Achaeans are most cruel, taunting most of the captives with their own children...then putting them to the sword.
I remember my Mother's lamentations as she held the head of my father...our greatest protector had fallen to the greatest of the Achaeans. For nine years he had stood between our demise and the wrath of Agamemnon and even more so...the wrath of Achilles.
As she wept, she too, feared her fate as well as my own...."O cruel death"...I will be cast from the precipice to which we now journey and cast down. On the rocks below...there will I die, my corpse to be fed upon by hounds and vultures.
The warrior beside me knelt to face up with me and spoke: "The others are filled with rage....even now as they sack they are consumed with hatred. You, son of Troy's greatest warrior.... are lost.
Soon you will find yourself on the journey to Hades. Be as brave as your father. The others who wait on the summit take pleasure in their deeds....I do not....were it different....I would take you within my house and raise you as my own. But they will not hear of it...they fear your retribution.....
So to would those who await your plunge, they would have defiled your body with their carnal lust....I protect you from them...but am at a loss for all else. Show no fear, you will gain respect and honor yourself. Know too, that my bearers will carry you from the rocks below on my shield. Your body will be cleansed, annoited, placed upon a pyre of sandlewood.. I will pay your fare to offer Charon upon the river Styx.
Do not weep, for even that, so .... understandable, will draw rebuke.
-
We walk slowly to the summit. There, we are met by the most foul of men. Their taunts ring through me. Odysseus kneels before me..."I must divest you of your raiments... glances a most fearsome look and snear at his fellow warriors and growls at them...."Oh so fearsome a group of warriors are you all.... your brave taunts on this child....certainly will gain you laurels....he is lost....and understands his fate....cowards the lot of you....that you fear one who has not even drawn sword or blood!"
Their voices are stilled. My tunic and loin clothe removed...I stand naked before them all. Odysseus lifts me in his arms and I am held below my shoulders up to look into his now watering eyes. The down on his face belies his age .... "Tell me when little one, for I must....send you on your way." He hugs me close...to his chest....I know what will happen...I whisper "now."
His strong arms hurl me out and beyond the edge. I see him turn away and begin to weep. My body falls as a stone, twisting and turning with arms flailing I see the earth rush towards me. I do not scream, nor do I cry...I keep my promise to be brave...and I know that the cowards above who wager as to my resolve will not be pleased. Some small measure of satisfaction.......I meet the rocks and join the others now spread out upon the shores and jetties of the Hellspont.
-
I gaze down upon my broken form and muse within myself of how this is possible.
I look up to see a spectre...that of a child...no older than what I was.... approach. His face is familiar yet I know that we have never met...he wears no tunic...but rather a strange vestment which cover his legs and rises to his waist.
Upon it are strange markings not unpleasing to sight. Perhaps he hails from.....
The voice at my side says "No ...he is not a god who resides with us but a spectre of what shall be. Do not turn to me as I must hide my precense from Hera and her Husband. Look closely upon his form but do not touch him. Ask only that he will weep for you....he will honor you and will keep his promise....As for me....I will soon fall away and sleep for ages..... On your journey do not drink from the river Lethe or you will be lost to all forever.
He cannot see me or hear my words...I will remain until your entreat is complete.
The child looks upon my broken body and as he does, the bearers which were promised, approach. I am laid upon the shield of bronze and carried away. The left arm of my corpse falls from my stilled chest.
As if in recognition... the young spectre looks upon me and begins to wail. He approaches my ghostly form and looks upon my face. Why does he cry?
I speak to him..."Promise you will honor me with your thoughts and tears?" He nods and begins to walk away.
As he does I look upon him....my eyes are drawn to his left arm....he carries the same birthmark as I did. Only now do I begin to understand.
-
"No...not fully...son of Hector....his tears will quench your thirst through the many years... yet to come. He has obligated himself to you....trust him....for it is through his vow that you may once again walk among the mortals. But mind....he shall need your voice....courage and compassion to survive. If he fails....you will never again take mortal form, nor breath, nor rejoice in the comfort of a mother's embrace.
"Look... even now the mightiest bird of prey acknowledges him. Behold, the eagle who bows his head and suppliants a touch of his hand. Marvel that even now, in a nightmare ages long and not of his choice, understands with compassion the birds desire.
"I will take my leave....but know this, that his journey to you will be relived from this day forward....no pleasant dreams will soothe him....no arms shall truly comfort him......and sorrowfully, he will agonize his repeated fates. All this I have read..... all shall come to pass.
-
The goddes of wisdom and war takes her leave of me. The spectre which will repeatedly and dutifully wail for me fades from my eyes.
"Forgive me I must pause.......Father....Mother....have pity....on your son...and..... and the son you shall soon bear...and too for my yet unborn sister."
"What shall be spoken of now....must be heard....I shall speak naught but the truth....but take warning.... what I must relay....is not for the weak or faint of heart. And....sister.... if you must stay.....know that even now we both weep for you, it would be better if you left....and were not a party to the horror that follows.
-
In the year of our Lord, 1754, I find myself walking among the many wildflowers in the meadow besides our cabin. I stop and smell many of them. Game and water is plentiful and I especially delight in watching the eagles in flight. Yet, I wish that we hadn't moved from our home in Coventry.
I think back.... Father was headstrong, and complained bitterly to Mother. He would eventually frazzle her to the bone....so that she eventually agreed to travel, but not to the newly founded provences of the Empire, but rather to the Illinois Country....which was now under French control.
We eventually had made our way to build our cabin about three kilometers west of the fort at Crown Point on Lake Champlain. Of the times we visited the fort....rumors were always ripe and openly discussed...especially the war which would come as a whirlwind.
Eagerly supportive of this were the Irinakhoiw...either the settlers would leave before the war began or else, their homesteads torched and its inhabitants slain. Father, still the headstrong man he always was would have none of it...he vowed to stay.
So it was in the year of our Lord 1753. One year later the world would explode and I would be no more.
Again I must pause, my brother knows well what is to be spoken and even now begins to quake.
My sister, hear your brothers pleas....leave....I too entreat you to begone.
-
So be it.
As I stoop to smell another flower, but... a buzzing... as if a large and angry bee passes behind me. Moments later I hear the sound of musket fire. I look to the source and see that a billowy gas of white smoke is playing itself out upon the wind.
Again, but now, at a further distance, coming from my cabin, I see more of the white discharge of arms.....and....eventually....the volleys of musketry come to my ears. The smoking discharges rushing towards my cabin are numerous......only one return shot do I spy....I look to where Mother was tilling her garden .....but that was not now the case....instead she lays upon the earth being clubbed about her head by a savage. She can offer no resistance....the brave unsheaths his knife and removes her hair at the scalp....he holds it up in exultation...his screams of conquest strike me.
She is lost and now I matter of factly presume that my Father will perish...if he has not already done so. I turn my head to where the buzzing came which past me by. There I see Szach-eh-waneh....almost too casually reloading.
The several times we went to the fort he was there...and at the fort it was known that he possed the arts and skills of an evil priest......many times would he snear at me and run his thumb across his throat while nodding his head in my direction.....mouthing the word "soon."
I turn to run, thinking that perhaps I can hide in the deep forest.
Another angry buzz passes me by to the right of my head. I look back as I run, he throws away his musket and howls in anger.....pulling a club from his belt he begins to run after me. He is bigger and his strides bring him closer to me. His club finds my head and it explodes in pain. As I fall, he is quickly upon me.
-
"Now I shall begin...and when I am done....know that your scalp will hang from my lodge pole as I sit and feast over what a fine one it is. But first there are other matters, and I must savor this moment....for you I will torment in a manner I have not done to another.
And why you may ask...because my majic is powerful....it can withstand all that any future you or your great God may bring and because I have long coveted your scalp. Know this too, if you cry out but one time...make but one tear, I WILL STRING YOU UP AND SKIN YOU.....ALIVE....then I will do to you what I will do now. Do you understand?" I nod my head...."yes."
His right hand moves to his belt and unsheaths the elkhorn blade he has sharpened to so fine an edge. I look about in terror....I know that no one will come to rescue me....yet...as he begins to knife away my buckskin breeches....a child approaches....I shake my head from side to side....Szach-eh-waneh thinks I plead to him to stay his hand....while in fact in wide eyed terror I try to warn the youth to flee.
The blade cuts through my breeches...I am exposed to the savage who sits upon my legs. The youth comes closer still....the blade is forced down and through.....I am severed.....no sound do I make no tear do I shed. The snear upon the savages face is self-satisfying and demeaning all at the same time. The youth, stands besides us, in abject terror with a wash board of tears streaking his face. I wonder why he is not also set upon by this savage.
It hurts so bad...I gasp. The parts he has taken from me are cast away. He incants, that I will never be whole in this life or the next...That I will bear no children and that the seeds of my father shall not be passed on.
He moves up to sit upon my waist and quickly grasps my long hair. He pulls me up to face him and wickedly smiles and whispers, "not a sound." He places the bloody knife point at my side and ever so slowly, as if filleting a piece of meat, forces the point through my jersey and then punctures my skin. He slides it in slowly....relishing his accomplishment...then qives a slights twist and turn to the handle. Then ever so slowly withdraws it. It has gone to the hilt. Again I gasp. But I do not cry out nor do I shed a tear.
"Now....so you may not speak to your God as to who has done this, nor bear witness against me with your words and before I take your scalp....I will take your tongue. For even if your God is so great...you will always chew and stumble upon your words....and know that you cannot speak of this..... now or in the future...should you return from the dead. The only manner to break my spell is for it to come to light...which ...I... forbid YOU to do.
Now his forces my mouth to open and in his casual manner severs my tongue from me...the taste of my own blood fills my mouth.......the youth beside us is on his knees pleading in vain for the savage to stop...and yet I am still amazed the the brutal one... ignores him.
"Now....before you die....I will take my prize!" I see the blade move to my head and agonize with the pain that now rips my head litteraly off. Again, for him...there is no rush....but a steady sawing of flesh ....until he holds it to my eyes to see....the prize he has taken. The blood which drips from it falls upon my face. My last visions are of the youth who cries and of the eagle which circles above us......I did not cry nor did I shed a tear.
-
I find myself in amazement. I stand but eight meters from the macabre and gaze upon it..... with revulsion. I recognize my clothes but little else for... it is I... who lies mutilated..... beneath the savage who lifts my hair to the sky....and exclaims his pleasure.
I panic, and pray that the savage continues to ignore the crying boy who is but a meter from his grasp. But...why?....How so? Does he not see? Does he not hear his screams of terror? I am puzzled but also startled to note that the child looks upon me, and not the one who lays before him.
He stands and steps across my corpse and moves towards me. Thru the living flesh of the savage he strides. I fear the boy with hair as pure as gold and whose dark green eyes burn with the fear and loathing of his witness to my death. His breeches are wet and his jersey is marred with the bile and contents of his stomach.
"He lifts his hand... I thought... to strike a blow....at me?...but why? But with his other hand he slowly pulls the long sleeved clothe back up his arm....and points to the mark which he bears. In turn, he points to my arm....we share identical markings.
Through his sobs he tries to talk but is constantly brought up short. No attempt to speak would succeed. In frustration, he beckons me to kneel beside him....at a small patch of dirt he has spied. There he scribes, "I will not forget ....I will cry for you....and me."
I muse..."You and me?.... You and me?..... Me......you?... he nods "yes." I wish to cry but cannot.....for I now recognize the face which looks upon me....while I am...or was.....twelve in age....the child who faces me is but six perhaps even seven or eight ...at the most. But, it is not the face of a stranger....no....a looking glass memory of my image at that age strikes home. I shudder as I look upon myself....he nods....as if he can read my thoughts....and....it is...."yes."
-
Moments later the savage lifts himself from my corpse and runs towards us. His right hand is raised to the sky and with undulating voice....celebrates. He passes thru us both, the spectres or ghosts that we are or have just recently become, five meters beyond us he stops and turns. A look of puzzlement crosses his face, it is but momentary, he snears....perhaps in disbelief...then continues his trek.
The eagle which I had spied moments before lands before us. I dare not move...but it is not me...well yes it is I....but it is the younger soul he is most attracted to. The youth does not flinch, but instead extends his hand to the large bird of prey and softly tousels the snow white feathers which crown his head. The eagle in turn approaches ever closer - and with coc-ked head ....eyes the wailing child....then ever so gingerly drinks from his tears.
Moments later, he takes flight, with but one mighty beat of his two and half meter spaned wings, he brings himself to the head off my corpse. He turns his head and looks to us...spreads his wings and stands defiantly.
My younger self scribes in the dirt...."he will stand and protect....until we are carried away."
Thru three sun rises and sun sets - we sat. The mightiest of birds was ever on guard....slaying the many vultures that would feed upon me in the day, the fox, who would tear the flesh from my bones in the evening and the wolf who would have made off with me in the dead of night.
Not until the "Red Coats" came upon me did my protector leave my side. With a screech he took flight and left in his wake the work he had so dutiful performed. As my body was carried away he looked down upon the moment and left. I look to my right and my younger self is gone as well.....I am drawn to a light and enter its domain.
-
Mother - Father to be, I must pause...I entreat you both...do not speak.....for I also am in need of respite from this most gruesome happening. Sister....if you remained to hear the words of your brother.....his tears for you as well as the one's I would shed are done so in great remorse.
"You ask.... how it is that I, know of these and can speak for him? "How can I speak of such a horror as you have heard with out stumbling or as you say "stuttering" upon my very words? How is it that I can bring to "light"....that which I was commanded not to?
The evil one commanded that I must never relay or speak of this....ever....either then or in the future. But I, the late son of Hector, am and was of the past.....before this most heinous of circ-umstances came to pass.....I am not bound by the words of this most foul of humans....for by his own incantations only referred to the "present"...in which he lived.... and the next....to what may be.... but ...nothing of the past.
"It....is I.....to whom on each of his nightmarish visits..... would relay a portion of such happenings.......... without fear.....without the stumbling or tongue tied speech.....that was cursed upon him. It is I, late son of the mighty Hector, who heeded the word of Athena. I would speak for him, stand by him ...in his hour of need..... when called upon.....and if necessary, in some future life....even die for him.
"While there are many other spectres or haunts to his mind and very soul...there is but one more on this odyessy of fear which presses him.
"With your indulgence....I will speak again....for I know his mind."
-
I wonder to myself as I hurry to the bomb shelter. Promises. Empty rhetoric. Broken homes. Broken families...a broken nation.
Eleven years ago, when still a child of five, I remember that night beside the Brandenburg gate. Father had hoisted me to sit upon his shoulders....I looked along the Wilhelmstrasse up to the presidential palace. The pounding of drums and the military music was emphasized more so by the pounding jackboot steps of the SA...the Sturmabteilung (shtoormabtailung).
The gold and red Nazi banners were highlighted by the thousands of hand held torches which played their flickering light across them. Now the SS...Schutzstaffelor (shoots shtahfl) made their appearance. Each had been hand picked by the der Fuhrer and had sworn their personal alliegence to him and each was over two meters in height. Their grimly determined faces, added emphasis to their resolve.
For moments, and to us they seemed too preciously long, we waited for his appearance...I bent my head and asked father..."when shall he come father?"....."soon".... was his only reply. Perhaps ten minutes had past when the slow drumbeats echoed for all to hear.
Trumpets blared his arrival and in a beam of light he graced us with his precence. "Heil! Sieg Heil!.....Hail! Hail Victory! We believed he would save us all. How disasterously wrong and blind we were.
-
Now I am brought round to reality.
The scream of the air raid sirens works their way to a deafening pitch, ever louder and louder until they are literally upon me....another bombing run by those who call them selves..."The Allies"...but in fact most of the planes are flown by Amerikana. In my rush to gain safe harbor....I stumble.... and fall to the pavement.
I hear...in the distance... the approaching drones of engines. As if in harmony, their low base vibrations echo across the lands beneath their wings. And...as if in a mockening reply to der Fuhers proclamation..."Here commenst!" (we are coming!).
Now the resounding sounds of the AAA (anti-aircraft artillary) begin to announce that they will meet the arrival. Boom...Boom...Boom...the many pieces fire at the now approaching planes. I look skyward and see the search lights moving to and fro to seek out the enemy's position. Why, I can't say, for even I, with un-aided eye can tell.
Wave upon wave....formation upon formation...they come... illuminated by moonlight and the magnesium-phosphorus rounds hurled towards them. But few are struck....I note that one... in particular....which carries a star upon its tail...is one of the unlucky ones.....a wing explodes.... collapses....and folds up to meet the canopy of the crafts occupents.
The low drone of it's engines now changes rapidly to a high pitch scream....it falls from the sky....the tracer rounds of the anti-aircraft guns finally can reach their target. Yet even as it falls, and meets the ground but a short distance from me....the others are undetered.
The whining whistles of their payloads can be heard. Explosions walk their way towards me. The vibrations begin to shatter glass.....storefronts shatter and apartment glass windows fall away to the ground below. Even closer, closer and closer....they are relentless in their approach. Roof fascades...crumble .... and detach... as do the many street balconies which line the strassa.
The screams of people are mixed with the sounds of the mutual warfare.
When I stand, I know that I have wet myself once again.... but...again try to make way to the shelter.
As fast as I can run....I make my way through tonights debre...the shelter's safety... is now but fifty meters from me....I pass the two SS troops standing to my right. They do not bother me...for their interest is focused on the AAA battery fronting the shelter on the opposite side of the strassa. I know full well their task. To kill anyone who leaves his post.
-
As I turn to enter the shelter, "my knee sock catches upon a metal clip, which held what once was the marquee, above the shelter, in place....I stumble and fall once more. The strassa, now bathed in moonlight...and.... is painted with the erie shadows of the bombers as they fly above... erupts......all around.... the symphony of madness begins.
The defeaning roars of bombs as they kiss both earth and buildings is mixed together with the sounds of human terror. On either side, of the strassa, tenament flats heave...move upwards as if on spring boards then collapse or fall away from their pinnings.
Dust and smoke...fill the air.... a thick and acrid smell but also dense enough to touch. And now...the fires from the many broken gas mains and lines in the strassa and of the remains of the flats make their dancing appearance.
-
Moments later I found myself lifted and set aright. I turned to see who had hoisted me from the ruins. I looked upon the stunned face of Gunter...our next door neighbor....who was more like an understanding big brother to me. He fell to the side and away from me....my gaze struck upon the blood which flowed from his back....the SS had performed their task.
At the same moment, the AAA across the strassa was lifted skyward some thirty meters or more....the earth below the piece erupted in orange, red and white flames. It belched all which had stood upon it.... up and outwards.
The shock waves blow me into the wall and down the steps to the shelter opening. The black shirted SS who had slain Gunter, was in turn...halved.....severed at the waist....and then consumed by a magnesium-phosphorus round which fell upon him.
Mother found her way to me and pulled me to a kiosk. There she held, and consoled me. I looked at her and broke but a brief smile. I also noticed that I was being spied upon. A crying child, no more than eight, watched with intensity. I blinked....and the child vanished before me.
I kept this within, for I had resolved some time ago that unless a question was possed to which I could either nod..... "yes"..... or inturn shake my head "no" .........that I would never utter another word for as long as I would live. And through the eve's events....I do not cry out nor do I shed a tear.
-
After the raid...mother held my hand and led me to where our tenament had once stood. The front wall of the entire structure had be shaved away....exposing the contents housed within. Water flowed down the face of the structure, linens, clothing, furniture, and all other items of daily life were now exposed...nakedly....for the world to see.
We made our way to the third floor flat...which we once called home.....there ....in the entry foyer....by the light of flames near and far... she removed my wet pants and diapered me. We were to sleep together in the foyer.....she held me ever so close and hugged me throught the night. This would be the last night we would be together. She wept.
Even at my age I felt no shame....for I was ....small for my age.....and of slight of build....and resembled a child of eight or nine....more than one of almost sixteen. I was content for the moment and pushed tonights events aside...then...waited for my sleep horrors to begin.
The following morning Mother dressed me in shorts, knee socks and a blouse of white cotton.... then made straight away to the wireless office.... with me taken in hand. As we walked, she made her intentions known. She would wire her sister, Greta, and ask for her to take me in....for how long she made no mention.
Throughout the day we sat and awaited a reply....which came past three thirty that afternoon. "Yes...bring him" was the reply. As she read the message....she again....but with a greater sense of urgency took me by the hand and made straight for our ruined flat.
It then occurred to me...that again...I felt spied upon. Certainly not by the SS or the SA...but instead...I believed I saw the same crying youth I had seen this past evening. Yet everytime I turned for a closer look... he was not to be found.
She pulled from the entry closet a worn valise in which she packed what items I would in fact need....two pairs of knee britches, knee socks, on pair of shoes, three jerseys and ten set of diapers, five heavy soakers and eight white plastic pants. Of the diapers and pants I could not object for every morning I would wake up wet.
-
As she packed, she looked to my face, her soft smile changed quickly to one of concern..... softly she spoke... "Joachem.....are you ill? you've not eaten nor drank much water today....what is wrong?" I shook my head...pointed to my side and back....I hurt terribly...and it seemed to be worsening.... as I stood before her she beckoned....and sofly spoke...."Come...let Mama see."
As she lifted my white jersey I heard her scream....."NEIN!!! NEIN! NEIN!!! (NO! NO! NO!)." She runs her hands across my side and back , as if trying to erase a marking of some type....first firmly then with soft carresses .....then cries as she explodes in fury.
"NOT YOU TOO. NOT YOU. NO. FIRST MY DAUGHTER THEY TAKE FROM ME.....THEN YOUR FATHER....AND NOW YOU???!!! THAT BASTARD PAPERHANGER BE DAMNED. HE HAS BROUGHT US ALL TO RUIN....AND NOW....EVEN YOU SHALL I ....." I had no idea of what "daughter" she spoke of and was now even in doubt.... as to my father.
She did not complete her thought out loud. She gingerly layed me down.....removed my shorts and then....abruptly stopped. Her face, became too painful to look upon and her crying..... increased dramatically with each second that past.
She murmered...."nu er fyrir" ('tis wet with blood)!
In silence I watched....as mother removed and held for a moment by the dimming daylight.... my wet diapers...soaked in blood. I thought to myself...."indeed for me it is Gotterdammerung.....I stand near to the coming "twilight of the gods." My breaths become shallow and I approach panic.....turning my head away....I see once more....the crying youth.
Even more so do I become frightened.....he lifts his arm...and points to the marking upon it.....I hold my hand which bears the same mark aloft....the same as what I bear?......he nods "yes"...he know my thoughts?....he nods again. "Am I going to...d?"...... he nods before I can finish.
Mother has diapered me again....but seems unaware of the vision to whom with I silently converse...can she not see?...does she not hear? ....he moves his head...."no." Are you the reaper of souls? "No" ...his response.....he points to his mark....then to mine....then back to his....then points to his face....to mine...to his.....
I see......myself!.....as I once was....?
"NO."
He moves to the wall clock....points to the number four .....then circles the face with one finger forward to twelve. Two more times he does the same. Only one time does he go backwards on the face of the clock...but as he reaches two...stops....and...shakes his head "no."
He circles the clock forward once more and points to himself.....but once back and points to me.....then .....then.....do I begin to understand....."yes" is his reply.
"Then... What???!!! WHAT IS IT YOU WANT???!!!"....WHAT IS IT?!...WHY DO YOU COME TO ME NOW??!!!
He points to me....then himself.....to me again....pauses but a moment....then seems to smile....lifting left hand palm up ..... he plays the first two fingers of his other across it....almost as if one was walking....emphatically he nods "YES"...... points to the photo on the back of our enry door.....the one of whom I lovingly call "Thor"....the eagle at the aviary of the zoo......again he plays fingers across the palm ....then turns fingers to fist.....striking repeatedly up and down upon his upturned palm....and points once more to "Thor." Two more times he repeats his signs until I grasp his desire...."you want me to go....there....? Now?" A grimacing, emploring and almost painful nod of.... "yes"... is his reply.
-
Hoping to embrace .....Mama pulls me up to her....as she does....I look back to the spectre...he is gone. She tries to wrap her arms around me...I will have none of it.....for I now sense a greater urgency.....if I tarry....what else could be lost may be more important than the few breaths I have remaining.
I push from her and walk to the door....point at the picture....then myself....and beckon her to take me.....to der honen goll (eagles nest).
She moves her head side to side, I know....she wishes to hold me close until.....
I move mine likewise in reply.....but also employ the same emphatic hand signage that was used upon me......I do not wait for her to acquiese ...I turn and begin the walk downstairs to.....there to exit on to the strasse.... for the last time.
Mother will soon catch me at the corner....takes my hand in hers....and with tears in her eyes nods "yes." She speaks softly to me..."how can I refuse your...last... request....I know how dear this creature is to you."
Along the torn route we walk....all familiar forms have been torn and ripped apart and lay strewn about without regard to size, form and even the once living beings now adorn the landscape.....broke into pieces....I think to myself....even Dante had more order than this in his works! But then again...I was dead last night and did not know it!
At length, we reach the zoo, I pull Mother to go faster....the urgency....and need to be once more under the eagles gaze grows urgently within me. I am brought up short as we reach the aviary.....there are no birds!....all are gone!
My eyes open wide in panic....did I delay too long....how can I leave this...this.... "JOACHEM! what are you doing here?" The voice, I recognize...... continues...."Frau, why do you bring your son here?" Mother whispers a reply....the keepers eyes begin to water as he shakes his head ....he lowly intones....."No....oh no."
"You have come too late Joachem.....all the birds ....as well as your eagle have been loosed. It was felt by the curator.....that it was better to die free than caged...so I was ordered to release them all....including the one you spent hours at a time silently looking at."
He turned to Mother, "Frau....the only time the great bird was at ease was when Joachem was near. He would turn his head and watch your son circle his cage....and I'll be damned....it almost seemed as if he recognized him....would extend his neck and look to him...as if to ask for his head to be scratched by his hands."
As the keeper spoke to Mother I slowly walked the path to where the great bird had once nested.....the gate was swung open....wide....I peered to the opening of his retreat....he was not there either.
I was shattered....my body began to tremble and now....now....a buzz ran through my head. It was time. I turned to leave the eagles nest and there the other me stood....he beckoned me to his side.....and as I approached....pointed to the highest point of a structure...some eighty meters away. There....upon it..... perched....the mighty Thor.
With but a slight lean forward he extends his wings and glides to where we both stand. With three halting flaps of his wings he is upon us...but two meters away. I look to my...my other self... he moves from my side as the great Thor approches me. I look to Mother and the keeper....they stare with mouths open but do not approach. Only Thor draws near.
At least one and one third meters in height, the mightiest of birds of prey struts to face me. We are but a hands length and finger touch away from each other. He stares into my eyes as I do into his. He bows his head to me and moves it closer....coc-king it to the right....as if to inquire...."do you understand?"
I turn to my other self....he nods...stroking left palm with right hand. "You mean...? "Yes" is his reply. Timidly. Haltingly and with as soft a touch as I can manage....I touch his white plumage. Then softly caress his waiting brow. He draws closer and rests his head upon my shoulder.....softly he nips at my ear....
My body quivers and shakes...not from what will soon happen to it ...but from the joy that I now feel. For ten years I vowed ....that I....would never speak a word or cry out nor shed a tear.....until I died....I have kept my promise......at long last I can relieve myself of this obligation....I cry.
My legs grow weak and I find I cannot stand....
-
I find myself standing apart and looking at myself as I lay on the ground. The eagle, which stands besides me tastes a tear from my face and proceeds to move towards my other self. There he again entreats a caress....and in reply softly nudges him upon the cheek.
I walk to the light, which now appears before me, turn and look upon the other me. We both hail each other and with a nod....he leaves ... and as I walk forward...I hear Mama...softly singing to me my favorite night-night song. I turn once more .....and view her cradling my head in her lap ....as the melody and words of Brahms reaches my ears:
Lullaby, and good night,
With pink roses bedight,
With lilies o'erspread,
Is my baby's sweet head.
Lay you down now, and rest,
May your slumber be blessed!
Lay you down now, and rest,
May they slumber be blessed!
Lullaby, and good night
You're your mother's delight,
Shining angels beside
My darling abide.
Soft and warm is your bed,
Close your eyes and rest your head
Soft and warm is your bed,
Close your eyes and rest your head.
Sleepyhead, close your eyes.
Mother's right here beside you.
I'll protect you from harm,
You'll wake in my arms.
Guardian angels are near,
So sleep on, with no fear.
Guardian angels are near,
So sleep on, with no fear.
I walk into the light. I do not hear the last verse...perhaps...some day...I will.
-
I don't hear a sound. I know I'm awake. "Oh crap!....this is just ...crap!...what's the use...never believed me before...probably never will.
"Crap!.... must've really srcrewed it big time! I know I told 'em not to say anything....but....how big a dork am I gonna be?" I try to open my eyes, but they're bleary... can't see a friggin thing....they're almost stuck together..... been crying....what else is new?
I try to look down into my lap....Christina's nighty peeks back at me....its soaked....must've really had to go real bad if its wet that much.....then I realize the rest of me is dripping.....damn it!...might as well get this over with...I heave a large sigh....lick my lips, gross! ...drippy boogers....how yucky can ya get.....I pull the nighty up to wipe the boogers off of my upper lip and chin...I can deal with the tears....used to it.
"Christina? Thanks again for the deal you made with 'em...I promise I won't give you any problem....as for them....I don't know....really I don't."
I don't look up...."guess I made a pretty big dork wad out of myself 'cause of what I told you guys. So's if it's all the same to everyone and before you blast me, I gotta lay down....don't feel all that great. 'Scuse me....gonna go upstairs.....but....I....I.....think I need to use the downstairs toilet.....gotta feeling I'm gonna say hello to last nights dinner!
I push away from the table fast...turn and run to the bathroom behind the stairway on the first floor. Damn it!! This is oh so gross! Never thought I'd put my head into one of these things! Glad I don't have to look at what comes out the other end!!! Dinner made its appearance...."...nice to see ya again.!!"
I trudged up to my room...went inside the bathroom...ran some water and then washed my face off. I looked into the mirror....It looked like my sister was staring back at me...."fit in?" Maybe ..maybe not.
I crawled back into bed...I was dreading my meeting with the picture girl. That's the last thing I remember until I woke up....that is until Christina woke me up.
-
She nudged me gently and actually talked to me out loud.."C'mon sleepyhead....you need to get up. Wake up....Christopher?....ohhh Chistopher.....please ....just wake up....won't you? Please do."
I'm confused....why are you talking out loud to me?... and....and why so, uh, I guess "gentle" is the word. I turned over to see her...she had a big shit eating grin on her face and music was blasting through her head...from the MP3 player she was wearing... so's I couldn't hear a thing she was thinking.
I shrugged my shoulder, "o.k. I give.....what's up?" I looked down at what I was wearing.....crap!!! I've been changed again!....didn't even know it!.....blue nighty?!....lifting the covers...yeh....blue with bows and stuff....I pulled the collar out.....pink bows laid on white lace edging! "My God! Christina did you ..... do this.....to me....again?!!"
"Well Mom actually helped bunches too and before you say a word I think you gotta see what she has for you!"
"Crap!!! you can't be serious and say that to me with a smile on your face.....what the hell is going on?!!" She shot back..."Quiet little one....they're both standing outside your room...waiting for me to tell them its o.k. for them to come in. But before I do that... YOU WILL LISTEN TO ME....DON'T ASK QUESTIONS....o.k?"
"I have a choice?" I questioned. She giggled..."No. Not really....besides this is gonna be oh so cool! Oh....and if your wondering how I can hear you talking with this on....I can't...just reading your lips!" I returned a sheepish smile and waited to be surprised.
She began. You know how long you've been asleep? Don't answer! Four hours and fifty minutes. Its almost one thirty." I started to shrug like "so what." "No don't even do that! Just take this all in and after you get what she's gonna give you....I gotta see your face!!!
"Anyway, after you went into the bathroom, puked your guts out...and then went up stairs to your room....we didn't know what the hell to say to each other. I was a mess...thinking that you had all that stuff in you for so long and never said a word about it! Dad was white as a sheet....he even lived up to his nick name in school.....couldn't control himself....pretty much wasted.....and cried quite a bit too.
"Mom, well she followed you into the same bathroom as soon as you went up stairs....both Dad and I could hear her heave....she was hurling some major chunks." Christina turned to the empty doorway...."Sorry guys, but I'm not gonna leave a thing out!"
-
"When she came back..besides looking like she was trashed, she just sat herself down and cried. Must've been some fifty or so minutes....none of us knew what to say or even begin to talk about what you said you dreamed of every night.
"Damn it! Chris...I knew if I dreamed half the crap you did....I'd be totally mental! And though none of us said it out loud....well we all were thinking the same thing.....past lives....don't think so. So cruel a death in each one....again....sorry don't think so.
"And yea, even I was thinking.....Christ all Mighty Chris! you scared the living hell out of me! You said your dreams were killing you! I...we never thought you meant litterally!
"Not ever grow up to be a man! Again, all of us thought you were so worried about....about your dingus and one nut....that we never would have guessed what you were talking about....or even dreaming about!
"Anyhow, my little brother or "sister" to be, it was about that time that the doorbell rang. Dad went to answer.....there... he saw...waiting in the driveway ....was a delivery truck. The driver, who met Dad at the door... said he had a rather large item addressed to Mom. Of course, Dad was puzzled and said there had to be some mistake....he checked the paper work and sure enough it was addressed to Mom. Right name, right spelling and right address.
The return address read: Silent Auction Plus...."Results Guaranteed"...C/O P. O. Box 1943 - 08...Munich, Germany....00012. Yea I know I'm taking the long way to tell you ...but believe me....your really gonna... Oh damn!....I'm gonna pee my panties!... its too cool cool.
-
Over my sister's giggles and almost too happy voice ...Mom called out, "Christopher?....please tell Christina to come see me NOW!" I pointed to the door and mouthed...Mom wants you....now. I mused if someone was gonna drop a house on her! and if they were gonna do it....why wait?!
With a huff and puff Christina left me....returned moments later and promptly said...."Mom told me....if this works one way....might work the other.....so here.....you wear 'em"...then attempted her best terminator impersonation..."Ill be back." I shook my head....damn she's weird sometimes! Hmmm.... AC-DC...not bad...didn't think she was into 'em.
A couple of minutes went by when she came back in.....took the head set off me and quickly wore it again......"Mom said .....its your room....you ask.... It wasn't for me to decide who to let into your room. So you gotta ask. She added I was taking this all the wrong way.....said I'd was pressing to hard ....if I thought all of this way gonna be ....well all to a joy...joy bump for you." I mouthed back..."Whatever."
I wasn't too happy about it so in as flat a voice as I could muster spoke...."Mom...Dad...if you want you can come in." Hell!....I haven't stuttered once yet.....maybe?
Both entered...empty handed....no surprise there. Whatever Christina said they or Mom had for me....guess it wasn't all that big a deal afterall. Dad sorta hung back....like he was waiting for someone to go ballistic...I figured it was gonna be either her or me! WRONG. WRONG. EVER so...wrong.
Mom moved to the side of my bed....and for the first time ever I can remember knelt down beside me. "I know," she said, "that you don't trust me." She looked away...as Christina took off her head set....DON'T YOU DARE READ ME CHRISTOPHER OR YOUR GONNA BE TOAST!!
I gave a little nod...and whispered "yea got ya." Mom looked at me and I looked at Christina.....Mom shook her head from side to side...half grinning whispered...."you two are something else."
She again spoke to me...."Until this morning....I...we... had no idea of .... of how to link all of this....this talk of angels, and nightmares together. And...I certainly, and neither did your father ever consider that you....you could speak one way to us....but have such a totally different meaning to your words....which you so painfully....yet ...as we both think upon them now....in so skilfull a way and so truthfully conveyed.
"I won't insult your intelligence by asking if you remember everything you spoke of ....just hours ago.....no....we both know that you remember in every detail what you went through.
-
"But now....we both...your father and I.......wait please.....let me expand on your sisters comments.....about the large package....you were so right to describe all that's happened as a "plate of spaghetti."
"The trunk, which now is in our garage, I bid on. It was called a silent auction. Your father was with me when I submitted the bid....for two hundred and fifty dollars. Neither of us dreamed that the bid would hold. Two weeks later.... I received written notification...that I had won. The strange part of it all was that the letter, which I carry now and will show you....states that mine was the only bid received...and that...by default...the black steamer chest was mine. It would take several weeks...but none-the-less would arrive for me to claim.
"Christopher....my lovely son....I cannot claim what is in this chest.....nor can your father.....it's yours...only you can claim it....you can keep it all or give a portion or even all of it away....but I don't think you'll select that option."
What the hell? Why is it... Mine?!!.....she really has gone off the edge!
Mom stops and brings her hand to my head and strokes my hair.....she continues as she speaks again.
"Before you see what's in the chest and it is most important that you do.......I need to ask you several questions....will you answer and not get mad that I do?" I nod "yes"....what the hell....this is as nice to me as she's been in a long time....what've I got to lose?
"You relayed three terrible dreams....are there more....?
"Couple of more but not any where near as .....as....you know? She nods she understands.
"Are they bad enough to make you cry?
"Don't know.....hadn't really thought of them that way."
"In every dream...is it you....who....
"Yes ma'm...I never get to see me getting older or really having anyone to love or love me back.
"Can any of the boys....I mean can they....do they... know...what you're thinking....like now or at special time when you're awake?
"Can't say....this is the first time I ever talked about this stuff....so's I really don't know much more.......are you gonna ask more questions....I TOLD YOU GUYS.........sorry....honest.....Guess if I heard a horse hockey story like mine... from someone that I didn't believe in.....guess I'd sorta push 'em away as well."
I guess that was a dagger thrust to the heart of the matter....she cried real hard...I turned away and saw Dad do the same. Christina just sat there....blank stare on her face....didn't think a thing...thank God!
Mom took in a deep breath and looked straight at me...."I had that coming...and it wasn't cruel to tell me....just deserts I'd wager."
I thought...."What's desert got to do with this?"
"Please, bare with me....one last question....the names of these children?"
I reply...."Astyanax....Elias.....and Joachem."
She speaks ever so soft ....at me but not really to me....."Joachem? Joachem? Wake up spleepyhead. No more night horrors for you....only gifts...which will make you smile and I fear even cry."
Mom looks at Dad..."Eric....if you please? Dad walks out then re-enters holding a package which looks to be about twenty four inches in height, width and length.
Mom presents the package for me ......or is it Joachem... to open. I pull away the cardboard from the top and look in side.....I stare....dumbfounded...."Is it really...really... mine? I lift it up and out so ginerly and proceed to turn it over to look at the wood bottom of the piece I now hold....the initials I carved are in place and even the unfinished last name...which I refused to etch is still as it was...IT IS MINE!
"My music box carousel of painted ponies which when keyed move round and round as well as up and down....Even....Even the one I had nick-named Walkyria is as she was....a notch upon her rump and still as black as night."
I search for the key....it too is in the box...quickly insert it to its keep...then gently twist it. Click...Click....Click....three turns and I stop...I await what I have longed to hear for so long.....At last the melody comes to me....my most favorite night-night lullaby....it is Brahms ....Lullaby and Good Night.
Mother looks at my trembling lips and weeping eyes....slowly she gets up to sit beside me as I begin to sob....she hold me close and sings me the tune that now plays to my delight....I hear the last verse at last from a Mothers mouth:
Lullabay, and sleep tight.
Hush! My darling is sleeping.
On his sheets white as cream
With his head full of dreams.
When the sky's bright with dawn,
He will wake in the morning.
When noontide warms the world,
He will frolic in the sun.
-
Mother holds me closer. She whispers gently, though Father and Sister may hear..."no more night horrors little one...and if by chance you sleep uneasy...come to us....we will listen. Now, look to Father....see what he holds for you...the second gift from your Mother....do you recognize.." She never is allowed to finish speaking....I scream out....THOR....IT IS THORS....I KNOW ...I KNOW...." I whisper the rest..."honestly I do know. Really....."
I extend a shaking hand....my face emplores without a spoken word ......."please?...please?"
Father places it for me to grasp....I move it across my cheek to and fro...I caress myself with the plumage of the one I adored most: second only to Mother. Mother whispers again....you have been thought of and loved for many years....as long as you remain....we accept you into our home.
I fall asleep ...but for a moment...in Mother's arms.....cradled and caressed....I hear her humming once more my favorite sleep lullabye.
My eyes flutter open.....I hang my head and try to pull away from Mom....she won't let me go....she asks "do you remember?" Pausing, I collect my thoughts and try to explain what I have just felt.
"Yes....every bit of it.....Mom ...I...really didn't know how much I loved her....I mean Joachem....I don't know! I 'm confused and ...and I really feel ashamed that ....that....we ....aren't. Know what I mean?
"Yes...I honestly and truly do. So may we have a truce? A deal with no strings or hidden meanings attached. Don't answer now...think about it...and when your ready...you tell me.
"I will give my most sacred promise to you that I can make.....but my little wanderer, you still have much to do today....and there's so much more to tell you that even your sister does not know ...and your "picture girl" will be here in a little more than an hour...we should stop....and pick up again later.
I nod and close my eyes. I know I'm still crying and feel pretty rotten. "Mom....you said that Joachem could stay here....I guess that means me to? Right? " I look to her face...she nods "yes."
But aren't you forgetting...." She cut me short..."no...there's no way I would forget... either of them. Your Father and I will explain later. Now ...Christina....please get him presentable for his ....she pauses and smiles at me...."date" and nothing girly....he's had quite enough for right now.
Come downstairs when your ready....dammit to hell!....there I go sounding like a shrew.....Christopher....when you are able....please come downstairs....after all you cut loose this morning ...you need some food and something to drink...."
w
-
Mom and Dad leave me with Christina to get cleaned up.
I look at my sister..."why? ....how could you ever think that I'd be happy over what they gave me? When for real it isn't mine! Damn it sis....that isn't my stuff....it's Joachems. And you know it!....I'm not a thief!
"You don't have a clue how it felt to have him talk to Mom and how I felt when he did. And you don't even begin to understand about, about how much he loved her...his mom...and now mine?....even with all the crap that was going on in his life...or is it mine?
"And I sure as hell never knew how much he adored the eagle. All I could figure out was that the bird was there for a reason...and I still haven't a clue. Christ! this was the first time I'd heard him talk and he so loves to be held in Mom's arms that he falls asleep as she humms a lullabye.
I try to take this stupid nighty off of me but its buttoned in the back....how the hell do girls deal with this stuff?
Christina.... is now my silent sister....doesn't say much except that I need to shower off and that she'd get me a pair of pull ups to wear under my pants..."don't want any accidents...do we?...she tries to break a smile with her not so funny joke...I shake my head and pull the soaked diaper off of me.
As I shower off...I find myself in a running conversation with Joachem or is it really just myself? I envy his love ....I envy his lack of discontent towards what he has had to deal with and I loathe myself ....I think...what a prick I am. I laugh silently at my self deprecating joke. Jealous? Guess so. Guess I'm as shallow as what I accused my parents of being.
Christina returns with a pair of pull ups...pair of light blue shorts and a white colored polo shirt...it has a light blue trim on the ends of the sleeves...great...more of her clothes. She puts them on the bed then states she'd be back...with no bad impersonations attempted.
I know that I promised I wouldn't give her any problems but I thought ....at least....I wouldn't have to wear girls clothes to meet this Melinda!
At least I can dress myself..... I start to cry again ...gonna be toast!
Christina comes back....looks me over and does a quick brush of my hair....I read her...."C'mon...we"ll walk down together." I shake my head no. "Sorry Christine....but if you haven't guessed I'm really torked at ya. You said you'd believe me but instead you trashed me....and you can't deny it either....you were ever so sure that I was making all of this up...that you agreed with 'em...and it wasn't until you saw the stuff that you realized that I just might be telling the truth.....uh uh.....I think I'll walk this one alone.
-
I walked downstairs and went straight to the breakfast area....I knew Christine was crying and didn't understand what was going on....shit...neither did I.
Both Mom and Dad were waiting for me.....Mom shook her head and whispered something to Dad....he left Mom and me alone. She looked me up and down....broke a smile....maybe she thought I looked cute...pointed to the plate on the table....ham sandwhich and chips....glass a milk to go with it. I took the que and sat down.
"You don't look too happy and its not only because of the clothes....is it?
"No mam....not only the clothes....but at least I thought I'd be able to meet this "Melinda" in some of my stuff...when she tells her friends...I'm gonna be trashed when I get to school!
"Mom....no...its...its alot more....and I, I'm really confused. Christina always believed me when I told her how bad my dreams were and now...or just a couple of minutes ago she trashed me and said I'd like what you had to give me....Sure so those things are special, but not to me! special? ...oh sure... but they're not mine....not really...are they?
"But, why would she think I 'd be happy....damn it wasn't like me she was talking to...it was like..... I was someone else!
"Hell she said you all sat around and thought what I'd told you guys was so much shit! Please say you didn't say that....did you?
"Be "happy?"...crap!....I feel like so much dog crap! I called her a backstabber ...yesterday...and just a couple of minutes ago....guess I called her the same thing....just didn't use the word to do it.
"And...And....guess .... I'm...uh...he...you sang to him...and....and....he loved you back, I ...I know it!....no....not only the clothes Mom....you loved him back...and...and all I was ...was............" I whisper..."jealous."
Mom walked over and sat beside me...to the left....put one finger to my lips and gently spoke ...."No, first, we didn't say that we didn't believe you or anything else like that....it's how she mistakenly perceived our reactions ...to your words. And as for the your being jealous....remember I told Christina to come out and talk to me and your father....the harshness you heard in my voice was not meant to be mean....it was the urgency to get her out of your room...I felt that you wouldn't .....react to what we had the way she expected.....she does't have a clue as to how you feel and why you aren't as excited as she was to tell you the things she did." Mom smiled for a brief moment then added "the way I said it...to you....I thought you'd want a house to drop on me."
"Chris....remember I said that there was alot more ...that even she didn't know about?" I nod my head..."yes." She continues, "Don't say a word....just look at what I'm going to show you....look....just look...."
Dad returns as she finishes her request to me...holding a pair of my jeans, socks and my favorite "Dead Head" shirt....guess that's what you call irony...I look at him and the clothes he carries and smile....then turn back to mom....she nods her head and understands.
From under the newspaper on the table she pulls out some really old pics...and some brown looking plastic stuff. The edges of each pic seem to be cut in waves....I think they're called scalloped...she seperates the pics from the dark plastic...they're not facing so I can see whats on 'em.....but I do notice that there's writing on the back of each....she hands me a stack of black and white pics....and speaks...."look at these....first."
They're arranged in order....the first is some baby on a blanket....looking at the camera...but the pic isn't good...looks really cloudy and out of focus to the right....I turn the pic over.... I read ....Joachem...11-11-28. Second pic...I know its Joachem....in short pants but again its out of focus with the same cloudy stuff on it....must be the camera....I turn it over...Joachem....1-22-30. I move to the third....Joachem with what looks like his mom and dad....I turn it over...1936...Olympics .... again...I turn the picture face side up....I take in the the carousel he holds out for all to see...but the same white cloud fuzzes up the image....again its just to the right of Joachem. Last pic.....Joachem standing in front of a cage....I start to cry....inside....inside the cage.... is ....an eagle....my trembling lips whisper "Thor"...but again my attention focuses on the cloudy marred section of the photo. I think...whoever took these must've known the camera was fubar....why keep taking pics that aren't gonna be clear?
Mom arranges the pictures face side up in front of me...then hands me the brown plastic...its got little square holes on each side....she whispers...."these are called negatives....they're thirty-five mm negatives of the pictures in front of you....none of the negatives come from the same camera, a different camera for each.....hold them to the light and look."
The first is the baby on the blanket...but beside him...my skin starts to get goose bumps....the image of another child is beside him....I move to the second...Joachem in short pants....beside him....beside him is another...child...looks like a ....a ....girl? Third pic....Olympics....again beside Joachem....same height....same age....stands a girl....looks like...like she has her hand on his shoulder....I toss this down and quickly move to the last.....in front of the eagle cage beside him again stands the image which doesn't show on the pics. While all the other pictures show no motiion....in this...she appears to be wiping tears from his face.
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"Mom...I...I...don't understand...how can this girl show up on the brown plastic jobies and not on the pics?" I keep eyeing the plastic and compare each again to the black and whites.
She puts her hand on my shoulder....whispers...."Chris....there's so much more to it than what your looking at......but I'll answer your question.....and please don't think that now I am making up a story....the girl on the negatives.....is Joachems sister....she died shortly after being born to Freida Bergoneer.....Joachems Mother.
On the very bottom of the trunk was a valise...secured by two tan straps. All of the items which you told us about were in it....and so much more. A letter sat atop all that was packed inside the case.
"Twenty eight and one half pages....describing her life after you ....I'm sorry....Joachem......died in her arms. And of how the valise and eventually how the trunk would be sent off."
I got the creepy crawlies all over! "Wait a sec....there's more....I know it...no way.... UH UH! OH NO!....Christina was talking to me like I was someone else! That I'd be glad to see.....my stuff??" That ...Cristina and Krystal ..." Mom shushed me...gave me a wide eyed look and arched her eyebrows....."How did you...know her name?"
"I didn't...it just came out."
"Freida only speaks of one distinguishing characteristic of her daughter...."Kristal." A little mark which she carried on her right shoulder. The same mark is on your sister....same place...." Mom trails off .....releases a tear....just as Christina walks in....she's wearing the headset....only it doesn't work on me this time...she looks towards me as I say..."thanks".......she fires back..."You can't possibly!"...I nod "yes" and mouth... "I know things that you don't know."
I know she's frustrated to hell but she's made an appointment that she's got to keep...and tells Mom she has to talk to Melinda....in private. She scampers out the door before Mom can talk to her or show her the pics. Mom doesn't try to stop her...guess she's had enough for the time being...
I chow down on the sandwich and gulp down the milk.....without hesitation I strip down to the pull ups and put on what Dad's brought in. I didn't know if it was the right time to do it...but I gave both of them a hug. As I give Mom one, guess it was for saving my butt with the clothes she begins to humm a melody....then softly sings to just me:
And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down.
Were captive on the carousel of time,
We can't return we can only look
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game.
She stops her song and softly says "now go upstairs and rest up....your "dream girl" will be here shortly and ....do not fret." I nod "yes".... when I get up to my room....I look up last word.....why didn't she just say don't worry....
NOTE: Acknowledgment to Joni Mitchel....The Circle Game....teddi
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I try to stay calm...waiting for three P.M. to roll around....carousel of time?? Ha....Ha....some joke....o.k. don't worry...ohh sure....I lived lots a lives, I can't sleep because I have nightmares, my sister believed me before and now thinks I'm a jerk or something....go back in time???....I know I like girls but feel like I might hav'ta be one?? Mom and Dad never believed me before....now they do???? Don't FRET!!??....what the hell do I have to fret about!!???
I got a picture that won't leave me alone and it looks like Christina has even got more to her than what I knew before.....I've got two guys who I've been before????....is that right?....rattling around in my skull....two out of three....and what about Elias? Am I gonna bat a thousand?
I toss the hard cover dictionary aside....and sit at my computer....type in dogpile.com...then....reincartnation....enter...damn it...spelled it wrong....yea ....I mean reincarnation.....hit the first entry....Wikepedia.com....I scan down to the definition...."to be made flesh again."......Hinduism....Buddhism.....Taoism...4th century B.C.....Chung Tzu....."Birth is not a beginning. Death is not an end. There is existence without limitation: there is continuity without a starting point. Existence without limitation is space. Continuity without a starting point is time. There is birth, there is death, there is issuing forth, there is entering in. That through which one passes in and out without seeing its form, that is the Portal of the Devine."
Socrates....Plato...(Phaedo)....Pythagoras??? I scan on....The Bible!!John the Baptist....born again...was prophet Elijah!!?? Quran....more info....William Yates...A Vision....reincarnation...does not take place in linear time....all past lives and....and future....occur all together?!...all happening now (inside) and all decisions good or bad make us what we are now or might become in the future...some guy, name of Edgar Cayce....karma...reincarnation...lessons from past lives supposed to help us achieve "spirituality???...that ....that even animals have souls...but gotta go through a whole lot of lives to get to human status....but won't go back to being animal once they get to human level!!!
I GOTTA STOP! Too much....and too much more to read....too many references...at least I kinda think I'm not all that nuts...least wise not as nuts as I thought I was...
I look at the clock on my nightstand. Damn....fifteen minutes to Whopner!
Note: "Whopner"...Rain Man..movie
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I hit the print tab...all seventeen pages print out. I yellow highlight the main stuff I've had time to scan....figure Christina can read it later. Five minutes to three...the door bell rings...guess the afternoon matinee is gonna start early.
I know Christina is talking to Mom....a...Mrs. Agapp..."wants to talk to you about her daughter Melinda.".....doesn't want her daughter to be appraised like a side of beef! Mom tells her to have a seat, offers her something to drink....she takes a cream soda. Mrs. Agapp starts to talk....but all this time....I read not only Christina's mind but seem to be able to hear Mrs Agapp at the same time....CRAP!! I can even see what she looks like!
She has light brown hair, which is long enough to reach her shoulders and has a soft flip to the back...retro fifties.... her ears have two piercing each...an eighth inch diameter diamond stud sits above a very fine filigreed gold hoop in each. She's wearing a light pink pants suit with a puffy cuffed white blouse...the cuffs are loose and almost long enough to cover each hand...to the knuckles. No wedding band...just some pretty big diamond rings....two on her left hand...one on the right.
Damn it!! Christina is focused on the diamond rings....wonders what they cost...and is only catching some of the rapid fire one way conversation Mom is being bombarded with. "I need to make sure........" "My daughter tells me that your son is......see. You can understand.....see for myself....that's why I'm here........so before......compare.......all that similar....your daughter claims that......"
Christina starts upstairs... I yell to her...."CHRISTINA...STAY WHERE YOU ARE ....DONT MOVE....THAT WAY MRS. AGAPP CAN SEE YOU.!! Christine stops and turns around....she understands! "MRS. AGAPP....YOUR WEARING A PINK PANTS SUIT, YOUR HAIR IS BROWN AND YOU'VE SOME OF THE BIGGEST DIAMOND RINGS MY SISTER HAS SEEN!! IF YOU WANT TO SEE HOW MUCH WE LOOK ALIKE....THAT'S COOL....BUT IF YOU CAN'T TELL US APART....THEN YOU GOT TO BELIEVE WHAT YOU MIGHT HEAR. CHRISTINA!!! COME ON UP! MOM....DON'T COME UP TILL CHRISTINA GETS YOU!
Christina's gaze to Mrs. Agapp shows she's taken aback....puzzled or even astonished. Mom starts to explain about Christine and me....and of how I can hear her thoughts....and now even more so. I hear Christine's footsteps stomping up the stairs...quick as she can go. I know she's not only puzzled about what has just happened but also still upset, or is it still pissed at me, over what I told her before.
Just as she enters my room I yell "STOP!!" "Now YOU don't say a word....there's a lot more that I found out....I apologize....yea....you were talking to me, but ....not really.....really it was Joachem.....your his sister Krystal....or was...ohhh shit!!! Mom's got some wicked pics and a letter....explains why you were so excited...so she says any way.
"As for me....I still haven't a clue of how I'm gonna handle two or three more voices in my head at the same time....shit!!....and listen to you talk to him and him talk back....you gotta read what I printed out about reincardnation....I mean reincarnation....damn it....but that's all gotta wait...look ....if we both go down together....and stay far enough away....so's that she can't tell us apart....cause you got your ears pierced and all that kinda crap....she's gotta believe me about seeing her daughter in my nightmares.
Christina pauses....takes a deep breathe then thinks out loud...."o.k....lets forget about the spat we just had....for now that is....but....even if we went downstairs like your suggesting....hell Chris....we have to look the SAME! You don't have any more jeans up here....so you can't wear pants!...you know....what I'm saying don't you?
I nod "yes."
"Come on....lets go to my room....I think.... I think....it ....might just work....you remember when we played mind games on Mom and Dad...."Pupppet on a String?"
A tentative "yes" passed from me. "But....what....its still gonna be kinda obvious...isn't it? Uh...what,....what are you cooking up in that noggin of yours?"
She giggles loudly....."my dear brother" ....now a broad smile crosses her face....."misdirection is the key...take her by surprise....what she see's ....she won't believe." She turns to me...barely able to contain herself and whispers.... "let's prepare......the "Theatre of the Absurd" is about to begin.
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"Sis" takes me by the hand...leads me to her room...points to the cushioned seat fronting her vanity mirror...."park yourself at the dresser...then, turn around....face me...that's it...now....whatever you do...don't move! Don't want to screw it up."
I query..."Christine....can I at least talk to you?" "Yes, you just did, but I dont think you'll have that much more of an opportunity....and not until I get your lips done...until then...silence." Christine begins to put stuff on my face...I scrunch my nose and shut my eyes real hard....I scowl. She admonishes me..."Nope! Can't have you do that either!"
"Looks like your going to get your first lesson in makeup...a little early." She holds some type of thing with a small mirror on it....she continues..."everything starts with this...the foundation....that's what its called.....I' m holding this....a compact (she points to what she holds) ...it's called "beyond color...nude." This is the first thing you have to put on....before anything else." She puts this stuff all over my face, chin and forehead....I don't have a chance to say nothing!
"Now...for the eyeshadow....this goes above your eyes....to your lids...and for you....I've got "dreamy" (I peek...damn! its pink!)...hold still while I....good...that's one...now...just sec...two. Looks ever so good!" "Just swell," I quip, "yea...just ...can't you just get this over with quick like? I don't want..." Her hand goes to my mouth..."Shut it!"
"O.K., she matter of factly intones, mascara and eyeliner time...I know you can't see what I'm doing....but we can take care of that later...."
"LATER! oh nooo....I think back to my agreement....there's gonna be more...lots more."
"Now the mascara... this is called "longest lashes ever" should increase yours by eighty five percent." She takes this stuff and puts it on every eyelash that I have. I see her use this tiny little brush...an ...an ...I even have to keep my eyes open while she does it!
"Oh wow!...this stuff really works....your gonna flip when you see them! "Don't bet on it," I think to myself. "Now....this is eyeliner"....she holds a pencil of some kind for me to see....whatever!...."this goes in an ever so thin line just under your eyelids....at the bottom of your eyelashes.....gonna make 'em sta-and out!" ( hell...just what I need!)
I hear a sultry "Christopher"...what the hell is she thinking now! She continues..."ohh your gonna look sooo dreamy....now let's get those cute little lips....hmmmm...be back... and don't turn around or else!"
I talk to myself "Or else? Or else what!?? What else could she possibly do? I cringe...gonna look like a real fool...damn....why'd I even go along with this....shit!"
She re-enters her room...shows me what she has...puts it in front of my eyes....I think I'm gonna start crying...."nope," she says, "don't do that...or else you'll have to sit through this this again....now...this is lipstick...I know that even you know what that is. Right?"
I'm getting frustrated and fire back...."Christ Christine....I'm not that stupid!"
"Good...now this is a special kind called...lip lacquer...going to make them shine...sort of like what a guy might put on tires to get them all glossy! And of course, your color is "darling pink. Now...for the lip liner....this helps the lipstick stay on longer...and I can even outline your lips....just the bottom...for now that is."
I sigh in resignation.... the words " for now...later"...and lotsa other glittering generalities and double speaked words are running through me...going to be a long two weeks.
"Don't turn around and look just yet....I have to do the same thing to me....if we're going to look the same....and for gosh sake don't start to cry...you can't go down with raccoon eyes....we'll have to start all over.!
I close my eyes and shudder....what the hell am I gonna look like...I sigh....she giggles....I moan inside...she's on a lark. Several minutes pass...she blurts out "done!" "Now for our hair....nothing fancy....just going to part it down the middle....pull each half to the right and left.......and....and...yes!....hold it in place with some of the pink and lavender scrunchies....I'm doing me first...then you...and I think....yup...bows pink on the right....blue on the left....there I'm done...your turn!
I feel her begin to comb...then brush my hair...she parts it down the middle...she pulls first to the left...and then pulls my hair through the rubber band thingies that are wrapped in the fuzzy stuff. She moves to the right side and does the same. "Great," she states...."yea right" I murmur. She puts the bows in my hair...giggles..."don't be such a grump....your plan...you thought we should look alike...I'm just helping....right?"
"Christina....you don't really want me to answer....do you?"
"Yes....I truly do want you to answer. Did I just lie to you about it being your plan? Don't think so. And am I still mad at you for ...for what you said to me...yes! damn it! I know you've got a lot to handle but I really don't understand why you treated me that way! O.K. so maybe I did mess up and was in kinda doubt about some stuff...but until I find out why you said that crap to me....I better shut up before I start sounding like Mom!"
I turn my head away from her...."Christine...like I said....you....weren't really talking to...to me...you were talking to Joachem....and until you see the pics....you'll doubt that I'm telling you straight up.
"It wasn't you who was telling me all the stuff....about how I'd like 'em and all. I told you...it was Krystal. I'm not the only one who has someone with 'em....your in there too! Mom has a real long letter...you'll see...honest. I even knew your name in it before she told me! You both have the same marks on your shoulders....oh shit.
"I know I really screwed up. Hell, I was holding you to a higher standard than I even held for myself...or Mom and Dad....no...your right....to be angry at me...and...and...I know I told you I'd walk this one alone....but ...oh crap to hell and back!.... I admit it...I can't...you know it... and I'm scared!
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Right now I figure I'm better off not making her any more mad at me than she already is......but she doesn't let it drop...she's egging me on..."So...are you thru making excuses ...."Chrissy?" She didn't have to say THAT to me..."yea - don't believe me...that's fine...but....but....I don't think I was ever that mean to you....Chrissy? Just finish up....I don't want to talk to you, with you, or even hear you right now."
I know she's not gonna stop...so now she talks out loud...."now just one more thing...earrings....got some clip ons....don't move...." I feel the left one slide up the bottom of my ear....then there some pressue and I hear a "click"....(I think to my self....that didn't feel so good....watch what your doing dork head!) ...she does the right one without waiting and muses out loud "I think you look PRETTY....good."
Now ...keep those oh so "BEAUTIFUL" eyes closed....until I tell you to open them. When I do...turn around in the seat....real slow...just a little bit more Chrissy!....STOP!....O.K.....open those "dreamy" eyes and take a peek. Well? Are we twins or what? Now no one.... can tell us apart...not even Mom or Dad!
To myself I whisper...."K....here goes." I stare dumbfounded at the image that reflects back at me....or ...or is it ....her? I quietly utter to my self "Holy shit batgirl!....What have you done to me?" I shake my head from side to side....and look at myself in disbelief....then I quickly scope my bitchy sister....then back to me....ohhh damn....triple damn with lots of crap on top....fuc-k!!! Unfriggin believable!
Christine is all smiles....me...I'm just wide eyed astonished. Is that really my face? Course it is you dumb schmuck!! I... I...don't even want to think it.... but... have to admit it...Christine looks like she's supposed to...cute...pretty.... and ...so utterly feminine.....and...and ....me?....the...the...same?
Christine jumps into my head..."I know your pretty....now you now it too! Not many boys, who'd have to be girls look as good as you do. Don't admire yourself too long...got to get dressed....you ready? I numbly nod I am. I steal furtive glances of myself....she chuckles as I do.
She begins to lay out what we'll both wear...on her bed she places.... a pair of black fishnet stockings and a pair of pink ones (inside I cry....OHH no!)....a black garter belt is paired with a pink one (guess which one I'm gonna get!) a couple of sling shots (sorry... bras) black and pink...two pairs of shorts....(damn .....they're really short!)....one pair is pink, from the center around to the back, the other half is purple and has a butterfly just above the right leg opening...the second pair is identical (except for the butterfly....this ones above the left leg opening.
In her best....I'm in charge voice...she continues...."strip off the shirt and pants....put on the pink garter (knew it) then put on the pink nets....I slowly reach for the stockings....but she reaches them before I do..."watch me!" she orders...then rolls one of them up to the where the toes should be......."put your toes in then roll it up your leg"....she tosses me the other..."here...you do this one." I comply....but I know I look ludicrous....garter belt over pull ups. "Once you get them on...pull the garters to the stockings and fasten them."
She hands me the shorts with the butterfly of the right leg. "Put them on."
She looks directly at me and smiles wickedly..."I'll help you with your first bra...come on slow poke...lift your arms and hold them out in front of you." I listen to her and dazedly comply....oh jeez....the queen is taking me into the collective...is this worse than being a Borg?!
She goes on..."blouse...no...plain white...yes!! got two of them...never been worn! She digs down into her dresser...."gotcha's." She undoes one of the shirts...presents to me...its, its really flimsey....damn it...its see thru....it has a puffy collar with pink border stiching. "Put it on." I notice how cool it feels as I pull my arms through the sleeve openings...I start to button it...the buttons are on the opposite side....she nods and grins at me..."yes...they're opposite of what your used to."
She silently chortles..."that's for stage two...now ...stage one." I think...what in the hell is she going on about now? Stage one? Stage two? are we launching rockets or what?!!
"I present you with stage one"...she hold out two identical dresses...says "they're simple blush pink party dresses. Pink top with a dainty collar fringed in white lace...and the sleeves are only four inches off the shoulder...notice the white lace on top of pink satin border?" She goes on pointing to the bottom of the dress..."this is called the hem...the white net on the bottom is called organza...it's quite stiff...but the border is a very soft white satin...Its about four inches wide and topped with a one inch wide ribbon of white lace. The satin is like what you hold on to on your blanket when you suc-k your thumb at night!"
"Above the white satin are two more rings....one yellow and the other light green...both and inch wide." She calmly adds, "Oh...I almost forgot...since the bottom of the dress is white, and see thru...you"ll need a slip to cover up your pretty pink garter belt and short-shorts. Because if you haven't noticed the shorts only come up to the crotch...every thing else is exposed."
She has me step into the white slip...then unzips the rear of the dress and presents it to me with the order to "step into it....I'll zip you up! Perfect!" Now, just one more thing....shoes...or in our case...sandals...white with little hearts across the the top and a nice pink rhinestone in the middle of each....lucky for you I have two pairs." I mumble.."yea...real lucky"
She just smiles back at me...I know what she's thinking...she really...really likes the way I look! Paybacks a bitch! I just lower my head to my chest and sit down on the edge of her bed.
She excuses herself, says she "has to get something from Mom and Dads room. She returns with a pair of pull ups. Holds a finger to her lips and shakes her head..."no...not for you...for me....can't look the same if we don't have the same cute looking tushie that pooches out softly and rounds your bottom sooo nicely!"
It doesn't take her that long to get dressed. Smiles as she looks at me... "cute" ...is her silent one word observation....then quickly goes to her boom box...loads a casette into it and calls out for Mom......"MOM WE'RE READY....COME UP PLEASE!"
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I cast a quick glance towards Christina...and inadvertently read her...just like she's going to a party or something...I think to myself..."what a shit head she is for talking to me like she did. I mean....I was never....what's the word..."condesent-cending" or snotty like she just was...damn it!! She even said and promisd me that she wouldn't be angry with me if I told the truth or about some of the things I might say....and now...hell...I don't know....maybe she's getting....pms....what ever that is.
I hear Mom's footsteps on the stair landing outside of my room...I can't help it but as Christina sees her ...so do I. She starts to come in...pauses at the entry...then asks...."Chris, may I come in please?" Christina nods "yes"....Mom wags a finger at her and shakes her head "no." Then pointing to me...she mouths to my sister...."him...not you." Christina knows better than to say a verbal word.... I just nod "yes"... but I've turned away...she just sees my head bob up and down.
Christine tells Mom..."We're all set and ready to go...just wanted you to see us before we came down. Bet you can't tell us apart....and sarcastically adds "can you!" Mom shakes her head...as if to say no....but says "I most certainly can...your brother is sitting on the bed with his head turned away and is not too happy about either the clothes he's wearing or something else....and if I know him...its the something else. Am I right?"
Mom walks past my sister and sits on the bed beside me...Christina looks on and smolders inside. Mom puts a hand on my shoulder....I turn away even more. "More than the clothes and I think even more than the way you look...am I right?" I once again nod "yes." Do you want to tell me? I can listen pretty good...at least I'm learning how to...please give me a try...won't you?" I shake my head "no."
Christina watches as Mom beckons her over to where we are sitting....damn is she pissed (Christina that is). Mom opens up on Christine...."I've seen this before...he won't talk and you're around to make sure he doesn't spill the beans about something! So before we do anything else I want a straight answer from YOU!...and if you even START to give me a rash of shit....YOU'LL be ever so sorry!!! I promise you that!
Now, you just stand right there and start talking and it better be the truth!
Christine puts down her boom box and looks to me...then ...back to Mom. She starts...."Mom...he's just upset because of the make up I put on him" Mom asks me...."Is that all?" I shake my spinning head...."no." "There's more...right?" I nod to the affirmative. Mom smiles at Christina...."So...we're parsing words and explanations....pray tell...what are you keeping back...and don't wait for me to ask a question to which you can so easily or simplistically rationalize away...and believe me to be as gullibale as well!"
Mom has got her by the short hairs! I lower my head even further...try to turn away even more...can't stand the hostility in either of them! Mom holds fast to my right shoulder and won't let go....I really don't want Christine to cry...but I know she's gonna.
Before Christine can collect herself and speak....Mom pulls me up to a standing position as she herself moves off the bed...I feel her hand lift my chin...."my God in heaven!" she whispers...."unbelievable".... I open my eyes and relieve Christine of her video transmission. Moms smiling down at me....then turns to Christina....shakes her head....whispering "exactly the same...I never thought...remarkable...if I didn't know who I was looking at.....I couldn't tell you two apart." Cristina cracks a self serving..."told ya so" smirk. It won't last long.
-
I pull away from Mom and sit on the bed with my back to both of them. Mom moves to face off with Christine....sternly intones..."Explain and do it now."
Ever so cautiously Christine responds...."actually...I...I guess it's more than just the make up." Mom shoots back..."Guess?! You GUESS?!...ohh no...you don't....guess....not here and especially not now! No fudging and no double entendre's...I want the clear and unvarnished truth...give!!
Christine stands mute...but for only a moment...I hear her trying to collect her thoughts....trying to sift them all out...and not make herself look... "bitchy." But....she ....she can't do it....and then her mind cracks to the reality of what is going to happen...Mom..."dearest Mother"...has become ingenious!...she will use ME! ... her "dearest brother or sister" as her own lie detector. All answers can be confirmed by me...yes..it's true or.... no...false...with a mere nod or shake of my head.
She knows I won't lie...never have...and I hope I never will. She doesn't want to look Mom straight on...eye to eye....looks away and begins. "I was....well...not...very nice to him...I...didn't...mean....I was and still am angry with him...about how he talked to me...so I went...kind of overboard...didn't use his right name and was sort of sarcatic about how nice he really looked." Mom taps me on the shoulder...asks..."True or False?" I nod "yes....true."
Mom nods once....O.K....then again and asks...."Now...what else?" Christine blurts out...."Mom, I know you guys didn't believe a word he said and I told him so! I saw you and Dad look at each other after he said he was thrown of a cliff....both of you looked at each other in disbelief and shook your heads....you didn't have to say it! You both didn't believe a word he said!...being thrown off a cliff or mountain top...oh sure...yea/right!" Mom taps me again..."Is that what she told you? I reply..."yes."
"And...and I sure as hell know he was never away from home for three days...sitting in a field with himself and his body being guarded by an eagle? You even buried your head in your hands....you couldn't take what he was telling you." Another tap to the shoulder...another reply of yes.
"Dying in his mother's arms in front of an empty eagle cage...come on! I know you guys were going to give him some stuff...from that old chest...but I didn't hear any of that in what he was rattling on about...hell....I just thought the carousel was nice and would cheer him up...but a feather....hah!...he's even trying to tell me that I was this Joachem's dead sister...puhhlees. So...so..." she doesnt finish. Mom taps me again....again the answer is true.
Mom half heartedly smiles at her and whispers..."you were a bitch. Guess you come by it naturally...a little too much of me in you." I look back over my shoulder...I'd rather see this for myself.
Mom calmly speaks to her...."didn't he tell you there was a lot more...that you didn't know anything about ...and neither did he....and didn't I try to warn you outside of his room...not to say some things to him...that he'd take it wrong and might not be too happy with?" Christine nods a "yes."
"Mom!!! You didn't believe that stuff...why should I?!!
Mom replies..."Christina...how do you know what I believe...and...why can't I?
"Weren't you the one who said she saw an angel...you had an "experience"....am I to believe you? Do you and Shirley McLain "channel" surf the heavens together?....the angel talks through you....and you can make him talk with the touch of your hand? Or is there more to it than that? That you were once the great comforter to him and confidant to his fears...until he tells you things you don't want to hear or accept! Did you break your promise to him when you acted like a..a...bitch? Mom quickly turns to me and silently demands an answer. I bite down on my lower lip and nod "yes."
"I know you can be sarcastic...and that is the nice word....derisive, cynical and acerbic could all to easily replace it! You had the will to give him a name other than his own? Weren't you the one who took me to task for stealing his clothes and imposing a one sided decision on him?!
"Daughter....sometimes, sometimes what you hear....or even might see at the same moment....may not in fact be reality or the truth....and what you think you see....is in fact misleading...a confusion of correlation with fact....it is not reality.
"Christina, if you please, will you sit at your vanity and face me...Mom turns to me and smiles...."Christopher....please....stay as you are...and for what it's worth...you do look genuinely pretty...no sarcasm...no double meaning intented. I hadn't planned on doing this...this soon. So just listen...don't interrupt and please Christopher don't move from where you sit.
"I have in my smock, a letter, written to me last night by your Father. I'll read it to both of you....but for you Christopher, this is especially important....I'll begin.
"To my dearest wife, my closet friend and love of my life. I don't know how to write this - but, I have been upset and troubled for a long time. The trouble is not with you - but rather with me .....and Christopher.
"I must confess...that as a Father to our son - I have been lacking. Not for lack of love for him...but of my inability to face him, hold him or even touch him - without sensing - the fear in his eyes towards me. It is almost, that a terrible recognition of some sorts has taken place. It is not a very nice one.
"I must couple this with my present state of mind. I truly cannot fathom what he thinks of me and of what I think of myself when I look into his eyes. I am terribly ashamed! For in my minds eye, I am throwing a naked child, who appears too much like him, from a precipice. I then turn away in tears and cry in sorrow for him.
"There is no earthly explanation I can give, for having such a, terrible thought. Tonight as I knelt to tell him of how proud I was of him - I saw the fear in his eyes as I came to face him. He flinched from my touch ever so slightly, before I grasped him. I saw the same look that was returned to me before I hurled the child away from me and to his death. I love my son - but I truly fear that his eyes hold something within. And I am the cause.
"Please don't think badly of me...some men drink to forget and others to remember - I do both.
"Forever, your loving husband. Eric.
-
Mom looked towards me first...I...blankly returned the look....as her studious attention took me in....her auburn haired...green eyed little boy...or is it girl...child...decked out with bows in his....or is it her....or maybe... even "their" hair....dressed in my cousins party dress...and whose make up now accentuated the feminine of what was within. Moreover...she saw what would be expected...one whose face now expressed to the extreme...absolute astonishment...holding neither smile nor grimace....just a thunderstruck realization of shock.
I know I didn't blink...and how the hell could I breathe? I just held my breath....until I had to gasp in a mouthful. I exhaled in a halting fashion...shivering as I did. At the same time I knew Christina was....just a wiped as I...."tabula rassa"...a clean slate...totally blank of mind...with now just a tint of fear....creeping into it...as well as the growing reality of what the truth was......my dream(s) were in fact...real.
Mom carressed my cheek....and softly whispered to me..."are you alright?" I nod "yes"...and murmur ...ever so faintly..."we're fine...honest."
Christina is now crying in my head....she's ever so sorry....not only about me and her....but now.... more so just about...me.
Mom looks at her....understands the growing horror and realization that is creeping across her face....gets up and hugs her...I never really had "seen" or heard her like this before... I closed my eyes....we cried together. I thought to myself...and chuckled inside...."right now...Mom was driving the bus...lots'a kids to worry about here."
She softly spoke to Christina....but I knew that it was meant for me too..."its O.K....I understand what you saw and why you thought what you did....we both, your Dad and I, could only stare at each other....and shake our heads...not believing...no that's not right....just suddenly believing. Yes, we both cried... and especially your Father.
Mom paused...took in a deep breath....and stroked my sisters hair....it felt soft and gentle...no animosity....no bitterness.... with no harshness to the touch. Christina accepted it with no thought of complaint. Mom lifted my sisters chin to look at her...I looked at Mom through my sisters blurry eyes...I'd never seen my Mom like this before.
"Sit by your brother"...a slight but brief smile crosses Mom's face as she adds...or your "sister" and I'll briefly detail for both of you what is....in fact...real." She adds as an after thought, "and if your concerned about Mrs Agapp...don't be...she had to make some phone calls and told me to take my time."
Christina sits down next to me...and takes hold of my left hand...gives it a soft squeeze....that's an "I'm really ever so sorry....please....let's be friends again?" in silent girl talk. I return the squeeze.
Mom starts to talk....to both of us...or is it one and the same? "Your second statement...."sitting in a field...guarded by an eagle....never been away from home for three days"....Mom starts to tear...."you are mistaken." And it is.... you...Christina....who have provided the....the proof."
I read the puzzlement in my sister's mind while at the same time....I...I cl...close m....my eyes...as...as...t..tight as...I...I c..ca-an....c...can't hep it....I scream in my head....but gaspingly whisper...."oh God!...NO!...NOT AGAIN! P...please....I...I ....d..don't wa...want to see m....me like th...that!" I know that both of them are looking at me. "I...I...dd...d..do..o...n.."T ....w...w...Wa..a...nt to!"
Christina watches as Mom pulls her chair closer to the both of us...places first her left hand on my left knee...while at the same time...putting her other on Christina's right. I see Mom's lips move...."I won't...I promise....be brave."
-
I don't want to hear...and I sure as hell don't want to listen....what choice do I have...gonna get it in stereo. I lick my lips...and try to concentrate on how different and smooth they feel...ain't gonna work!
I see Mom... through my sisters's hazy gaze .....and I blindly watch as she speaks....and cries.
"Remember"....Mom says...and quickly adds "not you Chris.... when you and ten other little girls were in the Up-C Daisy Girls of New Haven? You and ten other eight to ten year old girls, were to go on a weeks camping trip....which your troop had been "randomly" selected to attend.
"All of you...at no expense... entirely free!
"All of you were going to sit around a campfire at night....make s'mores ...pop kettle corn or tell stories while during the day....learn how to swim and go on hiking trips....and even a bus trip to the fort at Crown Point; which still stood after some two hundred years...and so much more.
From the brochures we were given...this was a beautiful camp in Ontario...one called "Meadows Watch"...about one and a half miles from Lake Champlain. I was against the trip at first...but was persuaded by a representative from the camp....she....she even came to our house...and assured me that each girl would be well supervised and cared for. I must admit...the lady...or young woman....was quite engaging...lovely...and ever so...self assured.
"Your troop leader.... the same one you had while you were in the "Iris Girls"...was also present as were all of the other mothers. We were all torn...didn't quite believe that this could actually happen.
"Your troop leader placed a cell phone call to the national Board of Directors for all of the Up-C Daisy girls. She put it on speaker ...and all of us heard that in fact...her troop had been selected....for this...a very "special offer."
I use those words...because that is how it was presented. Not only by the board member but also by the representative from the camp...who added that this was a "uniqe, once in a life time experience." Most of us, somewhat reluctantly agreed to let all of the troop attend....as long as three other parents could go along as chaperones. Yet I was a skeptic.
"I insisted on calling the camp itself...from my own phone. The young lady smiled, "of course....please do....you'll find that this trip will be well worth it....and may I respectfully add....that if she does not go....in the end....it will be your loss."
"Naturally, her reply seemed most odd....out of place...and even...personal. I called the camps number, from the provided brochure...and asked for whoever was in charge. The camp director, so he said, spoke....I put him on speaker...."Yes....ma'm...I have your name, your husbands as well as your daughters...I'm happy to hear from you and hope that she will be with us for this "unique experience." And, yes a representative from us has been sent to speak to the mother's of the selected troop. If she seems a bit....forward...my apologies....she's somewhat new on the job." All of us were amazed...did good fortune actually come our way?
For at least another hour all of us hashed the pro's and con's....and without a doubt placed four additional calls reconfirming what we had just heard....only then were we convinced to allow all of you to attend.
The representative had us sign travel release forms and the appropriate medical authorization to act in what was called "in loco parentis." She said it was "a fancy Latin term describing a minor whose in "our" care...authorizes us to act without having to call in an emergency situation." And, up until this day...I was mystified as to the young woman's name....neither myself nor any of the other mother's remember hearing what it was....only her initials "A......N..." were discernable on the papers we had all signed.
-
Two weeks later, you and the other girls took the five hour bus ride to Meadows Watch. And yes, you called on your arrrival, and per my instructions, also had the camp counselor speak with me as well. You were quite excited and tried to describe what you had already seen in just the twenty minutes you'd been there....which included a solitary cemetary, containing but three graves, which was off limits...due to a permanent chain link fence surrounding it.
At almost the same time, your Father happened to pass Chris' room...looked in and was shocked to see him on his bed, curled into a little ball...and from the smell...your Dad could tell that Chris had vomited. As he moved to take a closer look, he could tell it was all over Chris' clothes: tops, bottoms and all over himself as well.
"Not only that, but he had also completely soaked himself as well as the bed. Chris wouldn't...no...couldn't respond to Dad...and the more your Father tried to talk to him...the worse he appeared to become. In fact, the growing panic in your Dad grew as Chris' body began to tremble. Your Dad called the police immediately and started to shout for someone to come and help. I heard Eric's voice, hurried you off the phone, wishing you to have a "good evening."
"I rushed to where I head his voice. I still remember Eric's teary face as he was now yelling into the phone our address: and of course, cried out for them to "HURRY! FOR GOD'S SAKE, PLEASE HURRY!" I grabbed a wash cloth, dampened it and tried to wash your brothers face, hoping to not only clean him up a bit, but also to see if he would come to. He didn't.
"I know only a few minutes had passed...perhaps five...but they seemed agonizingly longer, before we could faintly hear the sounds of sirens. Their wailing sounds grew louder as they neared us." Mom paused and looked at me. She squeezed my knee and whispered, "They sounded like they were going..."wow - wow - wow-u-wow."
"With their loudness increasing your Dad raced down, to stand outside, on the sidewalk. And as I looked through Chris' front window, I couldn't help but see his frantic efforts to signal and direct the oncoming cruisers to their needed destination.
"In but a few seconds more, three blue and white cars screeched to a halt. Their red and blue lights still flashed as the combined sirens wound down. I could see the tires smoking as they braked: and before a complete halt had taken place, all six front doors were thrown open. Six blue clad officers raced thru the front door and up to meet me at the entry to Chris' room. The radios fastened to their shoulders crackled with heated conversation: and, that their observation(s) confirmed that more assistance was needed. But, the nearest emergency response team was over twenty minutes away.
"The tallest of the six, quickly picked your brother up, and with him cradled in his arms, emphatically declared, "Let's go!" In just a minute, we were hustled into one of the cars: with us in the back seat and Chris between us. All three cars made for the hospital with us second in line.
"The sirens were unrelenting as well as deafening. In ten minutes we made the ER entrance and were met by; at least six hospital employees. He was immediately taken out of his dirty clothes, and because he had wet himself, put into a hospital diaper. A solitary light blue blanket covered him from chin on down.
"He was admitted on that Friday evening and was not discharged until the following Wednesday morning. For three days he never opened his eyes. And to be honest it was suggested that "Last Rites" be given. He did not respond to any induced stimuli and his vital signs....." Mom shook her head, "It was like he didn't have any."
"It was all the more strange because there were several instances where he appeared to scream...but not a sound was heard by any of us. His sweating and trembling did not stop until early Monday morning. That is when he started to cry. Just a steady weeping.
"Through the rest of the day and the Tuesday that followed all matter of tests were run again. The only words Chris would say was either "yes" or "no." The test results all came back normal, but the doctor's were at a loss as to why he would not speak and especially as to the cause of his ailment.
"Christine," we didn't want to upset you....so...so....we...didn't tell you. We knew how close both of you were. I'm sorry."
Mom looked at me and softly asked, "I guess your in need of a change?"
I whispered my reply "yes ma'm." I just got up and went to my room..laid down on my bed and waited. Mom and Christina stayed behind...din't make much of a difference to me...I could hear her just fine.
-
I knew that both of them would be in shortly to get me out of the stuff I had on and that I'd be diapered for sure. I just listened as Mom went on.
"Despite all the tests, the doctor's felt that it wasn't necessary to keep him longer than another day or so. So, on that Wednesday we checked him out of the hospital. But, before we left, we wanted to express our thanks to the staff; for all of their efforts. Especially, to one particular nurse who was almost always constantly at his side.
"She never said much but always managed to assure us that he was "being well cared for" and that "over..."time"...he would blossom." And on two occasions, as she stroked his hair said "he is well protected." I thought, I'm sorry, I meant, we presumed she was referring to the constant efforts of all of the staff; who were concerned, to save him.
"Anyhow, just prior to check out we went to the nurses station on his floor, and thanked all whom we recognized; yet, no where was the one who spent the most time with Chris to be found. Naturally, we asked for her by name, but the nurse in charge...said, "No one...who worked the floor...or who was responsible for his care....was employed by that name." We insisted that she did.
"We were adamant. I emphatically stated, "Of course she does, she was always with him and would only leave when another nurse or aide would take over for her, if only for so ever a brief period of time." She just smiled at us and shook her head "No" while adding, "I'm sorry, but there is no one here except for us, and the night shift, and there is no one who has the name "Ann" or even the initials you gave me, "A.N."
"Naturally, we went down to the personnel office. Spoke with the head administrator and were again told that "There is no one employed here who, as you say, that merely goes by just the name of "Ann" or as a matter of fact just initials or even because her name won't fit on an I.D. tag, or even by the acronym of "A.N." Perhaps you are, and I respectfully suggest - mistaken?" We were flustered. We did not try to reply or desire to argue the point. We both knew what we saw and no one was going to change our minds.
"We left the hospital in a huff but still ever so happy to have not lost our son. We brought Chris home. Your Dad carried him up to his room and put him to bed. We gave him the medications prescribed: a variety of antihistamines along with the provided strong sedative and high potency vitamins. He spent the next five days in bed and mostly slept.
"You came home that Friday evening and wondered where he was, as you thought Chris would certainly be at the bus station to meet you. Dad told you he had the "flu"...and....needed to stay in bed for a while. On the drive home, you were beside yourself as to how great the camp was. There was so much to do and see. Horseback riding, canoe trips and even archery contests were included....which the brochure made no mention of.
"When you got home, you gave me a quick kiss but headed straight upstairs to Chris' room. Despite your efforts, he would not wake up for you, even though you were quite the chatterbox. You sat beside him, on his bed and went on about all of the activities that were offered and of how all of the girls were so happy to have gone on this "special" trip.
"Especially beautiful to you was the vast meadow which backed to the camp itself. You said it was almost impossible not to stop and smell every flower. Moreover, of how many butterflies filled the air: hundreds and hundreds flittered sofly to and fro, and would seem to gather and pause, every so often around you. The variety of colors; the flowers, the butterflies and the many birds, "all together...and all so beautiful to see." And all appeared to acknowledge your precence.
"But, especially striking was the fact that even the birds seemed to know you were there: especially, the largest bird you had ever seen, which seemed to circle above you whenever you went on an outing of any type. You even managed to take a few pictures of it. The most impressive were the few you managed to take of it when it surprised you by landing only ten feet from where you knelt as you created a rubbing of a particular bronzed monuments raised lettering.
"And regardless of how tired you or the rest of your troop were from the various day or night activities; that all of you were so pleasantly happy each moring when you woke up. And with all agreeing, describing the sleep as feeling "almost heavenly."
"You told him that there were lots of pictures; not only of the butterflies and flowers, but also of a lonely cemetery as well as the single bronzed monument which had been placed on the hillside overlooking the camp. You're Dad and I stood in the doorway as you told him all of these things and much more. But, at no time did you mention a single name.
"I still have the card from the digital camera and the photos which were downloaded to a saved disc. To you, at the time, all of these were distinctly seperate events running together in a beautiful one week's vacation. To your brother, it was a week where he was ... alone.
"And today as I thought of this particular nightmare, I remembered the two photos you had taken of the headstones in the cemetery. I inserted the disc in our computer and found them.
"In the first picture, clearly chiseled upon the headstones, the names of who were buried could be read. Upon the first granite headstone to the left, read the name of "William H. Worthington of Coventry." Below his name it read "Died in the Year of Our Lord - 1754." Upon the last granite headstone to the right the name reads "Edwina A. Worthington of Coventry." Below her name it reads, "Faithful Wife to William and Loving Mother to Her Son." Below that it reads, "Died in the Year of Our Lord - 1754." The second and much larger headstone centered between the two others reads...it reads...."Elias H. Worthington - Born to the World 1742 - Returned to Heaven 1754." Below his name..."Beloved Son of William and Edwina." And the last line...."Slain by Most Foul of Men."
As Mom begins to tell Christine of the second picture....I...I bolt upright from my kip and stumble quickly to the bathroom door...reach thru the opening and grab the hanging bath towel. Putting the thick folded edge between my teeth....I bite down a hard as I can...SCREAMING....into it! I fold the remainder back over my head and become an ostrich of fear and pain. I don't try to talk...I just...as hard as I can....Scream! It's the kind of one where it just comes out in so high a tone or screech that you think you've got someone else's voice in you. What a laugh! Especially for me!
I reach around the door opening and feel for the second switch. I flip it on...the fart fan starts to drone....and fall to my knees just outside the bathroom door opening. I pull my head to my knees....and allow both sandaled feet to pull away in opposite directions...I form the perfect tripod. I know that beyond the edge of "my" dress....my ankles and legs are exposed...at least to mid-thigh. What the hell!...do I care?! Yea...I think I do!
I can just imagine myself...crap...I must be quite a sight....a little girly/boy on her knees...screaming...I mock myself..."oooh, is the boogey man gonna get cha?" I can't stop hearing Mom talk to Christina....while at the same time realizing that I really hurt like hell! From by stomach on down to my knees! Damn it! I think I'm gonna hurl some major chunks!"
-
Mom's voice cuts thru my increasing pain.
Christina is mesmerized.
Mom softly smiles at her...and pulls from her turquoise and pink smock four pieces of tracing paper....I think to myself..."sorta like a kangaroo pouch...all sorts of stuff packed into it...'cept this stuff is really real."
She offers the papers to Christine. They're the rubbings she made while at camp "Meadow Watch."
Christina puts them together....and reads what has been transferred in pencil to their surface. "Marks Here Elias of Coventry. Come Upon by Royal Grenadiers. Protected in Death. 1754."
I silently moan as I still cry. "It's all true."
Mom continues. "There's an additional brochure; explaining the need for the fence surrounding the cemetery. She reaches within the smock and pulls from it a one page, highly glossed, color brochure.....it's folded into thirds...width wise. On the cover page.... I see the fence, the headstones, the names upon them....and....the solitary tree, which Father left standing to shade our home from the afternoon sun....and now which shades where we lie...as well as the meadow which acts as a backdrop." Elias has finally made his appearance.
For some reason I think to myself as my sister begins to read and all of the others in my head silently listen..."almost all of the characters are assembled...only....Melinda...she's not here....and now...I await her entry. And while there are no written lines...I believe all know their roles....but Melinda...I don't understand what she has to do with it all."
"And me, hell...I'm the star...landed the leading role....no casting required...for some reason I'm the feature attraction. I hope that audience participation is not required...but my throbbing head and aching stomach tells me differently.
I whisper to Elias, "So....so...that's where...." I never finish...he replies "Yes. Be still now....we want to listen."
"Oh that's just great....now I'm catching it from you guys!"
Christina unfolds the brochure and reads for all of us to "hear."
"Meadow - Watch is a unique experience for all who attend. Not only does it offer a stunningly beautiful seven hundred acre natural meadow, which fronts a deeply and still pristine two thousand acre wildlife protected reserve, it is also steeped in historical significance. It is upon this site that the first civilian casualties of the "French and Indian Wars" were incurred.
"Within the fenced area lies the Worthington family. All three perished and were laid to rest by the British Empires....Royal Grenadiers. According to their eyewitness accounts, and doc-umented as to accuracy, the child, Elias, when come upon by the Grenadiers, was protected by an eagle; which stood his ground defiantly until their closest approach.
"He and his family were laid to rest beside an oak tree. During the interment, the eagle which once stood at the head of the child...appeared too circle above them and view their actions. It was upon their leaving then did the large bird come down to perch itself on a limb extending over the headstones: appearing to watch and defiantly stand guard...allowing no one to come closer. The fence is to protect...all who would approach.
"It is from this devotion that we have derived our name."
All of us are silent. I still cry. Christina looks up to take in Moms face while at the same time noticing Mrs. Agap standing at the door to her room.
Mrs. Agap....apologizes....looks at both....but really just talks to Mom.
"She's rushing her explanation..."I'm sorry...I didn't mean to intrude but your other daughters in your son's room...I heard her screaming and crying....I couldn't help but hear her sobs and of how upset she was....I thought....she's on her knees...I didn't want to intrude...honestly...I wanted to go in...but...I feared upsetting her more....I was trying to find you....your husband was getting Melinda for me....from my car...otherwise..."
Mom didn't wait for her to finish. I think to myself as I watch her back rushing towards my room...."Ladies and Gentlemen....Boys and Girls....Children of All "Ages"....Welcome to the Theatre of the Absurd."
Not as envisioned by my sister, and certainly not by her script. "Limited seating...now available."
I know for sure that Mom, Dad and Mrs. Agap are gonna have front row seats. And Melinda...will make a special guest appearance.
-
As she pushed past Mrs. Agap...a quick glance was cast...eyes meeting...but for a moment...the silent exchange of concerns...between mothers...didn't go unnoticed by my sister. Mom never said a word...her eyes said it all.
The sound of her two inch heels...on hardwood floors...could be heard...growing fainter as they left her room...growing louder as they approached mine. They're hollow echoes bounced through the hallway...flat sandaled Christina followed close behind...leaving Mrs. Agap standing motionless with a dreadfully worried look on her face.
Mom stopped short of entering my room ...hell...I knew she wasn't gonna ask permission...no...no rhetorical questions....not this time...and no...I wouldn't blame her for just barging in...honestly...I wouldn't.
The pink bath towel clenched in my mouth and draped back over my head can't hide the side of my face...my profile...shrieked girl. Not only figuratively but literally! I grasp it tighter...two pink fingernailed colored fists clenching and pressing it as hard as I can to my lips...it only serves to soften my crying to her ears. All other concerns are set aside: hers as well as my own.
The three within me vie for my attention.
They are unrelenting....noisy....stridently...and ear splittingly adamant that I listen to them. I half joke to them..."Take a number...wait in line...don't butt it!" For a moment they are silent. I hear them giggle together...and gleefully their chorus taunts me.
"We know some things that you don't know. We know some things that you don't know"
I pull the towel from between my teeth and try to pull it closer to my eyes and sob as I whimper my reply.
"What....what some things...don't I know?"....while at the same moment...Mrs. Agap comes to stand between Mom and Christina....she's got a box seat. The party dress has pulled up and is now at my knees. Christina watches and thinks "my" dress is up too high.
"Christine...I don't care if the dress has hiked up my legs. Why should I??? I'm already made as a girl by Mrs. Agap. I've proved my point. Geez...some victory - huh?" All appear to listen closely.
"I know what your all looking at. Here I am...on my knees...rocking forward...and...back...forward and back." No one speaks...it's still my turn onstage.
The bright shaft of sunlight which daily visits my room now peaks thru my window. Tiny particles of suspended matter dance throughout its length. At its journeys end, lands, to me.
I murmer..."Look...I'm in the spotlight." Reflections from the rhinestones on "my" two inch sandals are now moving dots of opaque colors; which are thrown out to dance upon the walls of my room.
I lower my head and turn it to the doorway...towel still clutched to my eyes. I begin again. "I have the newest built in surround sound system going....the newest?...hell...it's the only one as far as I know that comes with complete "sensor - round" screen....but no controls...no personal vision required...courtesy of Christina. Gotta give credit where credit is due.
"And yes Mom, to answer the other question you asked of Christina...she only has to touch me...sometimes...to...to... do whatever she wants. "With but a touch of your hand!" they're your words! I can see whatever she does, feel the same as she does, and even smell what she does. And again....yes... she can even make me do stuff. And...and...you know what stuff?
"Now YOU remember. When I was still a little boy...what a joke...I'm still called "little one"...crap...even Andromache called me that! And so did my...sorry Christine...our Angel.
"Remember? You'd see me running around the house in Christine's panties. You'd ask me why? I'd always tell you the truth...that I really didn't know why or how but that I thought Christine made me...remember?...all you ever did was to wash my mouth out with soap "for telling lies." When that wouldn't work you'd spank my butt and have me stand in the corner for an hour with the panties down to my ankles. The last time.. the last time I did it...you took Dad's belt and raised some wicked blisters on my ass. That was the very last time...Christine promised me she wouldn't do that to me anymore.
"Tell her Christina...you promised that I could tell on you...and that you wouldn't get angry with me. I caught the crap that she dished out cause you thought I looked "cute." And yea I know you felt bad, no actually, really...dreadful...about watching her go to town on me...but I never tattled on you. That was part of our promises to each other.
Christine looks to Mom and nods ...just mouthing the words "Yes. Mom...its true...I..."
I won' let her finish, "No Christine...please don't...as far as you and me...I'm over that shit now. Don't dig up any more bad memories...please...I couldn't stand to feel you cry again...no...especially not right now.
-
I pull the towel from my eyes...as Mrs. Agap places a hand upon my sisters shoulder; she's talking on her phone. To her...we're "perceived"...we are "indeed identical twins...but where is the little boy?"
Just great...she's missed my one good line...I'm not "made" at all...not yet. I know it's gonna get a lot more embarrassing.
Aside: "I must be a glutton for punishment...or maybe as Christina said "a little too noble?" Whatever the hell that means." I keep chatting.
"The show must go on."
"But now...now it's grown to be more...a lot more...'cause now all she has to do is touch someone...and then...and then.... I know what they're thinking or had just thought about.
"It's more than just stopping the world and taking a walk around and b.s'n with all the living statues.
"Damn it...now I can even pick up smells...you know...aromas...don't make much of a difference: from her I get the fragrances...flowers, perfumes, powders, and even smoke - stuff like that. But now...even my nightmares have become more...more...ohh crap!...what's the word..."
Aside: "OH...thanks Elias."
I resume..."Enhanced." Not only do I see 'em...it's more like...like...well I know I'm really there...but with all the more real details of sight, impressions, more sounds, the real smells...and...all of my...I mean...their feelings...all of it...nothing left out....it's all there...and...and it's a lot scarier than when they all first started."
I snicker, "Ha..."Real time daylight videos and aroma's furnished at no extra charge: Christina A. Markison...Director of Personnel. Special nighttime effects, illustrations and graphics: by C. H. M....An In House Production. All rights reserved."
Mrs. Agap is wondering "what the hell is going on?" I look directly at Melinda's mom..."Get Smart," Mrs. Agap....missed it by that much!" (my left hand points towards my crotch as I hold thumb to first finger of my right)..."if you weren't talking on the damn phone you'd have a clue!"
Elias whispers to me..."That's a bit cheeky."
I voice my reply. "I don't care Elias. She should have turned the damned thing off!"
I twist my head to Mother.
"Damn it all Mom....Christine honestly thought I looked good enough to "fit in"...and I knew she wasn't yanking me on...I could tell...and you...even you Mom....said....and I quote..."I had no idea"...and you even thought I looked...no....that's not right...you didn't think it...you said so...out loud...I was "no sarcasm...genuinely pretty!"
"But I need to know...if you said I was "pretty"....with "no sarcasm"....why the f'k did you blister my tail before? What's so different now? God Mom....look at me. This is more than just some stupid ass panties. I'm still me...ain't I. Well, O.K....maybe not....they're more of me right now than meets the eye."
Aside: "I....but...but...shouldn't I know....wh...why...if...if I ...can read their thoughts...why in hell can't I know the answer...when you held my knee...just a couple of minutes ago?
Mrs. Agap is just beginning to realize she's missed some important crap...really hasn't a clue of how much...she's still listening to someone else on her phone. Missed the opening scene.
Christina watches as she (Agap) turns her head to see my Dad, her daughter Melinda and some other lady walking up the stairs. The right hand on my sister's shoulder tightens to a grip...her slightly accented thoughts are louder....oh crap...I read her full name and...and...why she is really here!
Christine at the same time can't help but look at Mom. Moms pretty well ripped. Yet composed enough to move ever so cautiously to stand beside me... off to my left...she shakes her head...side to side...I see the tears falling from her cheeks...her lips tighten and curl inward...as she wrings her hands. Her image strikes me not only as strange but somehow as...no...not her....I turn my head back to where Mom stands...I need to see her myself...as the puzzlement on my face grows...her lips relax...and a wry smile crosses her face. I've seen that look before.
My head is spinning...too many thoughts to keep track of...way to many ...and now the pain in my crotch begins to throb in my mind as well.
There are no heads in the way to block the view. The three latecomers stand behind the front row. Melinda takes her place behind my sister to the right...but immediately turns her head away...there's something different about her.
The raven haired woman...who calls herself "Aeron D." ... greets her mother with both a shake of hands and a brief kiss to the right cheek...whispers her "thanks for the calls" to Mrs. Agap. As she does her eyes first move to me ... then to Thor's feather which rests upon my pillow. She takes her mark to the right of Melinda and directly behind her mom. Dad is to the far left..his face is flushed, eyes are red and trickle slowly with tears.
I understand what Mrs. Agap has been going on about...the phone calls were to this woman...who calls herself the "Sachem of the Northern Tribes." Melinda's mom breaks her thoughts continously in another language as she whispers to the one called Aeron.
"Such a sweet thing...poor child..."koritsaki mu" (my cute little girl)" least that's what I'm getting out of it). "Gia ti kles? (why do you cry?)" I feel her pity me and my tears as she continues. "Looks just like her sister. "Duo polli ormorphi koritstakia (two very beautiful little girls). I must congratulate Julie. "Alla then skevro"...(but I don't know) where the little boy is.
Aside: "Damn Elias...now? "Nobilis?" I shake my head. O.K. but it's in Latin...sure...you translate......"Nobilis...a transitive verb." I interrupt..."what the hell does some kind of trany something have to do with this? O.K. so I'm not as smart about some things like you are...K..so go ahead...talk.
Elias: "Nobilis...a transitive verb. it means to perceive directly the importance of knowing oneself or to recognize as being the same as previously known...that's us...but a lot more."
"Are you finished?"
"For now."
"I'm gonna need to get an interpreter pretty soon."
Mrs. Agap finally lifts her hand from my sister's shoulder. I figure before she can get another word in...I'm gonna cut her off...and I'm not gonna be nice...figure..." if I'm dressed like a bitch ... may as well act like one!"
The chorus is not pleased. "NO" three times they refrain.
I guess they're tight....I agree to remain silent on this and "yeild the moment to Mother. She shall address your puzzlement"...the chorus of three again refrains...We know things that you don't know." But add..."And so does she."
-
I look to Mom..."So?...can you give me one good reason? Why? Why did you do what you did to me? Was it something I said?...or did or didn't do? Just don't stand there! Please. Just tell me...did you stop loving me because of me wearing 'em?"
Mother stands and commands the stage with her silence. All at the procenium arch, "thanks Astyanax," now wait in silence. A slight shake of her head and a faint whisper of a reply is made. All lean forward to hear, as she speaks, "No."
She gently entreats my silence. The fingers of her left hand softly move to cover my mouth and gently pat my lips. She begins her sililoguy.
"Please...listen...and do not be so quick to judge me. I have never stopped loving you. I cannot give one good reason but I can give you three. And after I have explained...I trust you to be fair and understand...honest and truly...I hope you will understand. And, yes, while you've had ample reason to mistrust me through my actions...all were necessary...otherwise my beautiful child...you and the others would be no more.
"I have gaurded you as no other mother has in your lives past. Truthfully, many could do little but watch their most precious of charges fall away from them: as did Joachems' mother: Freida. Others met cruel fates: as did Edwina, mother of Elias; while others perished through circ-umstance, acts of nature or war as did Hectors Andromache ... Astyanaxs' mother. You think I would not know her name?
Sadly, it is also true that many other's had too little concern for what they brought forth; and while they wept, their tears were but a pretence to gain pity; while neither true remorse or critical self-recrimination were honestly applied. Theirs was the undemanding path; which gained them all too little. What price to sell one's soul? But to gamble and lose the soul of the innocent to who are entrusted to you; the cost is too high a price.
Yes, for you and your sister, I have been many times too distant, seemingly too uncaring, arrogant, haughty and...and...seemingly....un...unloving." Her lips tremble and her speech becomes labored. "Dear God...what...what both of you have...have thought of me...I am ... at a loss to explain...the emptiness that consumes me."
Christina enters the promenade and sits on my bed...lightly with her left hand pats where she nods for me to sit. I comply, but I'm soaked to the skin. The pain in my crotch begins to ease...I inhale deeply... and try to catch my breathe. As she takes my right hand into her left...the three within make known that they are in awe of Mother. As we sit together, I know what is so obvious to the casual glance, or perhaps even to closer study. We are indistinguishable.
The front row seat remains vacant. The gods stand and watch. Melinda does not move to take the mark. She remains...distant...and seemingly unwilling to..to...take sight of the performance. Both Elias and Joachem give me some grief over the split infinitive...but they giggle...its done in love.
Mother continues. "Before the two of you were born....." she pauses momentarily then resumes, "excuse me..." Mom points to Christina with her right hand...as she cheats to the proscenium arch. "To the left is my lovely daughter, Christina...though sometime we do call her Christine." With but a twist of the wrist her finger moves to point at...me! "To her right, is my most precious son, Christopher: and up until today that has been his name."
In shocked silence I sit. "WHAT THE HELL?!" Yea, O.K. I do say it out loud...but...wouldn't you? I know its really not loud enough for anyone else to hear. Or is it? "Oh...sorry guys."
Mother explains. I did not mean to humiliate or demean my son. No. In all honesty , those are not the reasons. To those who have not lived...I'm sorry...a very poor choice of words...the conundrum...the riddle if it pleases you...lies in the mystery of what or who we once were as to who we are now. The past two days have been; and I use the word with all sincerity "revealing."
Christopher aptly descibed it as being a "plate of sphaghetti." You may take notice of one strand before it is prepared; but once served all the individual strands are intermeshed. Where one begins or ends can only be determined by plucking it...a solitary entity.
Christopher, my "little one," also has had other names...which he once was known to answer to: Astyanax, Elias and Joachem."
Mother pauses as Aeron pushes past Mrs. Agapp. I steal a glance. Her eyes glisten..the beginning of tears. The soft features of her face tighten...the space between her slight eyebrows narrows. Cheeks are now drawn in and her lips pull back and in as well...there to meet her tongues attempts to moisten them and a now drying mouth.
"Anticipation?"...yes...we agree.
Mother knows she want to take part...after all...audience participation is the key...for now. Mom refuses to yeild the stage...she shakes her head "No." Melinda's furtive one eyed glance is spied. "at least there is some interest." All the guys laugh.
Mom continues. "I'm sorry, but, you will wait." Mom looks back to me...after all...she's cheated to within three feet of the arch. I understand her look.
"Mom...her name is Aeron...Aeron D. But the D is short for Deryn. Mrs. Agapp phoned her...she calls herself "Sachem of the Northern Tribes. Algonguian...mostly."
Aeron's eyes widen. Mrs. Agapp's jaw drops...I think she looks like she's had a pie thrown in her face...mouth is kinda open...she's blinking a lot and trying to wipe her face with both hands...I think she's finally got a clue. Dad looks on...he's got a smile on his face...looks like he's enjoying this part at least...well...until its his turn. And Melinda...she takes another peek.
-
Mom's twists her head to look at us, a growing smile now crosses her face. I whisper...but all may hear..."Elation?" "No" chimes the chorus..."we are of the same mind."
Aside: "Damn it...now I'm talking like "em."
Aside: "Then?...Jubilation?...Yes...we all agree."
Mother can hardly contain herself. She resumes the cold reading. "My apologies, Aeron, If I appeared abrupt, but you will shortly understand why, and as you are our most esteemed guest dramaturge; I understand your presence here. And thank you, Mrs. Agapp, for phoning her. From what Christine has alluded to, your initial intent was to assure your daughter's integrity, I assue you there is no reason to fear. Be patient."
Mrs. Agapp just stands with her mouth open...looks to her daughter...takes the phone from her ear and tosses it to the hardwood floor behind her.
Aside: "Again...we are in accord...she's really gonna pay attention...now."
As Mom backs from the apron, and stands to face us: she continues. "Now the remainder. I will take you back to when I was in college. I was a sophomore at the State University in Florida. I was also in a sorority: Delta - Delta - Delta. At the time, the sorority house was located on Park Avenue. Also at this time, a small establishment called the "Mecca" was doing business as a restaurant to the students.
"It was located but one hundred yards or so from the sorority house. It was there that who I supposed to be a "new freshman" caught my eye. Obviously, I thought, here for orientation. He wore his hair, a most beautiful burgundy red, to collar length; much longer than most boys I had seen on campus. He had a wondrously slender build. And he wore, of all things, the deepest blue bell-bottom cords I'd ever seen; and his wide buckled belt was but a shade lighter; and was accentuated with what appeared to be a variety of raised one eighth inch studs, which were arraigned insome type of pattern.
"His shirt, was the purest white. I had never seen a boy wear one like it and for a fact I'd not seen a girl wear one like that either. It had no buttons, just three simple string ties, each spaced two inches from the other; beginning where both left and right rounded collars met. Neither the sleeves or body of the shirt were tapered; and the cuffs appeared to be gathered. All appeared to, for a lack of a better description: to billow.
"Yet, it suited him: a perfect fit. The loafers he wore were a soft off white...close to matching his shirt....but different enough to be uncharacteristically unique. He wore no socks. And yes, I took every bit of him in.
"As he took his place in the serving line, I noticed him looking at me. His strides appeared to make him as quite agile. Yet, he looked so out of place and apprehensive. I decided to strike a conversation and perhaps put him at ease; and maybe, to know him better. Yes, I did have an ulterior motive. I was just a growing girl. I liked what I saw and..."
Mom pauses. Her cheecks turn a faint red color. She's embarrassed.
She resumes. "And I do remember distinctly, how ill at ease he was. To be honest, he appeared anxious, hesitant and most out of place; even for a freshman. Yet, his eyes moved with a certainty to take in not only everything around him, but would always return to me.
"He had made it through the line with a simple tray of food: no meat, just some vegetables and bread. I chuckled to myself, "Oh no, he's even has a glass of milk," Nevertheless, he took a booth seat, which was adjacent to and overlooking Copeland Street; leading up to the fountain at Wescott.
"I thought, what the hell, he looked so lost, yet ever so intriguing. Why not, why not just be nice and maybe it will lead to something. I excused myself from my sorority sisters and walked to where he sat. I introduced myself and asked "May I join you?" He nodded that I could but looked away as I asked.
"I sat to face him. I looked at his face. I could tell he hadn't started to shave and I almost reached to feel his cheek. I found him curiously attractive. Yet at the same time reflected that.. that he appeared to be on the verge of tears. I tried to strike a conversation, but he seemed most reluctant to speak.
"Hi, my name is Julia...but you can call be Julie or just Jewels. And yours?" He merely nodded and tried to force a smile. He didn't reply.
"I inquired of him. Are you a freshman? Just scoping the campus? Know what your going to major in?" A shrug of his shoulders and a shake of his head "No," was his silent reply to the three questions.
"You seem kind of...nervous?" He nodded "Yes." I pressed the issue. "Just college or I guess your just homesick. Right?" He did not reply.
I went on. "Uhh..look, I know I'm a bit forward but I won't bite you, honest. But, you act like, like your afraid. Your not afraid of girls are you? Because if you are I really apologize for making you feel unconfortable." With but a slight smile he replied: "No, I am not afraid of girls."
"Good.... I thought.... That's a relief." I pressed the issue further. "So if your not afraid of girls, then are you afraid of me? " Without hesitations he replied, "In a manner of fashion...yes."
Incredulously I asked "afraid...of me?" A nod of yes was coupled with his soft reply. "I am Daniel. Daniel...Mathew...Quillon."
I thought to swing his fear of me with appreciation over hearing his name, maybe he wouldn't take me as, well, maybe he's into the shy and appreciative girls; couldn't hurt to try. So I went on. "Hey, that' a great sounding name. It has a lot of personality. Might seem a bit odd for me to say but somehow you sort of look like a Daniel. You know, I dont want to insult you, but it seemed like you needed to have somebody to talk to. You look like you've been tripping, lost...no...actually really "misplaced?" You know I saw you looking at me so I just thought I'd come over and...well...get to know you better...but if your afraid to talk to me, that's cool. I'll just excuse myself...Maybe I'll C'ya round. O.K.?"
"He nodded once, as his face broke into one of the most beautiful smiles I'd seen. No...it was actually the best one I'd ever seen. He looked into my eyes then turned away as he spoke again."
"I'm sorry. You misunderstood my intent. It was not for you to know me. Rather, it was for I to know you. And while the names I told you are indeed mine; they can be at a time quite distinct, seperable and interchangeable: and for most whom I view, most disconcerting.
"Daniel, my first name, means: judge. It is what I must do. My second name, Mathew, I use all too infrequently. I may tender its meaning as: Gods gift. Unfortunately for many, the latter: Quillon, is the most frequently established by Authority. It means: Fearsome.
"My fear is not you as a girl. My fear is that as a woman you may fail; and therby lose the souls of the innocents to whom are entrusted to you. And yes Julia, I am on the verge of tears, for if I judge wrongly it would be most terrible. I judge you Julie Athena.
"The gateway to one's soul is through their eyes, and I have judged. On this He and I are in harmony. For the moment I am to you Mathew Daniel. Pray you never know me as the latter.
"You must take the trip which is planned. For now, the time being, you are worthy."
"With that he up and left his seat. He said not another word and walked out the door. I turned to see where this...boy...this Mathew Daniel...was going to walk. I wanted to catch up to him. As you would suppose, I had many questions.
"My view of Copeland was unblocked and I knew he had to exit down the stairs and away from the Mecca. But, I never saw him walk down the stairs. I thought that maybe he had lingered to take a campus paper. I went to the entry, but he was not there either. Looking up and down the sidewalk, he was nowhere to be seen.
"I looked to where we sat ... the tray he had placed before him was gone; as was the glass of milk. I was quite shaken, in fact, numbed. I returned to the table to join the girls I had been with before.
"But a few moments passed when Gina nudged my right arm and asked, "Whad'ya say Jewels, you up for it?"
"Up for what?" I replied.
She smiled as she said, "The trip dumb ass. What we've been talking about for the past ten minutes. Where've you been girl?"
I numbly responded:"The trip?"
"Yea, to Cassadaga. Margie's had a couple of readings there, says it's a hoot. Besides, we've got no classes on Friday and the readings are free. The letter she showed us said it was for the "Preferred Customer" "Bring two guests." Your in...aren't you?"
I nodded and whispered, "Yes...I'm in."
-
"I never finished my soda. As Gina, Margie and I walked out the front doors, I again tried to spy where, this Mathew Daniel had gone. He was nowhere in sight. As we passed "Bills Bookstore" to make straight way to the house, I looked up and down the legnth of Park Avenue...hoping...perhaps to spy him. My head reeled with what I thought had just occurred. Moreover, as I walked through the entry, over which the golden Tri-Delt letters were placed, I tried to recollect not only his exact words but also his manner of dress.
"For a fact, I had never spoken my middle name. For all whom I'd met before, including him, I was content for it to remain an undisclosed initial. For a fact, I had never mentioned any future desires that I might have when I had graduated, made a career reference to myself; or even my future dreams of being married. Lastly, and all the more strange, I found this Mathew Daniel becoming more intriguing than ever; while at the same time becoming increasingly apprehensive.
"Pray you never know me as the latter."
"It was a simple statement and was presented to me as matter of fact. The more I considered it, the more I realized, I never wanted to meet him as "Quillon."
"Moreover, it was so strange, that being as fashion conscious as I presumed myself to be that I had never seen the styles of clothes he wore: for either male or female. Nor could I identify the type of clothe used.
"Even the colors: of his shirt, pants, belt and shoes, for a lack of a better word appeared...unadulterated. Likewise, the color of his hair, so pure in luster and color was not only a growing distraction, at least for me, but also struck in me a sense of wonderment.
"The hairs on my arms raised in chilling response to the one word, which somehow described him, at least for me: Uncorrupted.
The remainder of that afternoon passed quickly. I even tried to go to sleep earlier than normal. I tossed and turned for most the night.
"Thursday morning came round and I busied myself for the last day of classes for the week. Thankfully, the three, three-hour classes for the most part occupied my thoughts. Yet as I walked from the History Bldg. across Landis Green to the Meteorology Bldg. and finally made my way back to the Social Studies Bldg. adjacent to Strozier Library; I became increasingly apprehensive. Tomorrow, Friday, was the day scheduled for this trip.
"As the last class ended, I made my way back to the house; and bypassed my normal stop at the "Keg," off Tennessee St. for happy hour. I was now neither happy nor at ease with the thought of drinking: and once more, my nights sleep was restless.
Morning came too slowly. We loaded ourselves into Margie's car and set out for Cassadagga. The trip was every bit of four and one-half hours long; for a total of two hundred and seventy five miles. We spoke little. For three college girls I believed it significant in and of itself. In due course, we found ourselves at the town's limits.
"Not bad time," Margie mused.
"As we turned onto Cassadaga Road, an agreement was made: Margie and Gina would go together for their readings. They had a thing for each other...and that was fine with me.
"Margie then apologized and simply said, "You can get a reading just about anywhere, just take the free offer coupon and give it to whoever you wind up with. I already cleared our reading with my regular. Called him last night. He's expecting us, but said the three of us would be too much to handle. I'm really sorry Jewels, But, he did give me a couple of hints of whom he thought you might go to. The first one is just a short walk as you turn right off of Marion, and up a block and turn left onto Seneca; or, if you really want to get into coincidence, take my car, turn right on Marion, cross over the main drag and cut a left onto, now get this: Seminole Ave. Of the two, he strongly suggests you take the second. Said if you took the first one on Seneca you might wind up losing your way...whatever that means."
"I felt I was dumped on. She knew all along that we weren't going to go in as a threesome. No sooner as I finished my ticked off thought, she tossed me the car keys, stating, "Here, you decide."
"I inhaled, held my breath, and my mouth, then decided.
"Coincidence?" Maybe so. But the other, Seneca, just its name made my blood run cold. No. For some reason I didn't want to talk to whoever was there. Three minutes later, I made the left onto Seminole Ave. It was a very short road: no more than two hundred feet long.
"A total of six quite charming, in appearance, bungalows comprised the entire street: three equally spaced to either side. I parked on the right shoulder of the road; between all six. As I exited the car a young child, no more than eight, seemingly came up behind me from nowhere and addressed me. "She's waiting for you. Next one up to the right...the side your're parked on. Come on. I'll take you there myself, but after that, your on your own" I was stunned.
"This, child, girl or boy, I really had no idea to which sex, had just set me back further. My anxiety increased and I turned to leave: but as I did, this, this "little one" took my hand and pulled my palm to his? cheeck.
"Don't be afraid. Honest and truly, I promise, you have nothing to fear, especially from me."
"I allowed myself to be led by the hand, the short distance to the last house on the right.
"At the gate, fronting the walkway up to the front deck stairs the child let go of my hand: smiled, and spoke again. "I lo...I mean I like you. If, if we meet, in another time, I hope we will be...closer?" With that quite odd departing comment, especially the last word, no...it was the whole damned sentence.
"I knew what he or she wanted to say to start with, the unspoken four-letter word was never finished. I watched the child scamper off...laughing in pleasure.
"Bewildered I turned to walk through the gate, I cast a quick glance up the road, and was again brought up short. This child was not in sight: not on the road, not cutting across any lawn, and not on any porch. The road was empty with but my car parked off to the side. Truthfully, my legs would have folded and I would have cried right there had I not heard a gleeful voice speaking, "Please, you are invited to come in."
"It was with considerable foreboding that I made my way up the white cobblestone walkway and made directly for the front door. I looked for the doorbell: found none.
"I raised my hand to knock but was, before I could even begin, told, "Knocking is but a formality, Julia Athena, I have invited you in, please do so. Please, be seated at the table and place yourself at ease. You will come to no harm here: for you are the "Preferred Customer."
"Her words, yes definitely a female, could do little to help my condition. My jaw trembled uncontrollably while my eyes brought forth a steady stream of tears.
"From the silhouette cast upon a screening I presumed her to be quite young. I thought of the early plays where this technique was used. Would I find the truth from a shadow?
"She lightly laughed as she spoke again, "No, it was not a "damned sentence" but your thoughts may be prophetic...but, that is for you to decide. And yes, the technique, is quite an impressive suggestion for the dramatic.
"Your fear, for now shall pass, but be aware that your reading had already begun. Not by me but first by the one you met days ago.
"Mathew Daniel. How wonderful that name. For if he had spoke Quillon...the one you met moments ago, would never be again. There will be no need to take a pen in hand, for to your mind my words I shall commend.
"There they will remain, only portions shall you when awaken: to recollect. Within your mind all shall slumber. Awakening in but piecemeal, heralded shall they come: brought forth through word or deed: prompted by the second born. It is then when all shall be spoken again.
"As you sleep, my words to you shall be a constant source, a reminder; for the souls of innocents are entrusted to your life's course.
"Attend. Closely. For I must speak in paradigm. I may not interfere, for yours is the free will, that of choice. The paradigm is itself a body comprised of three; and all must apply. It is for you to unravel, arrange and then relay, as if upon a stage, spoken as in a play.
"The child you met is actually the Primality of one. And in due course, with some success, the "little one" would be first born son. Yet before he is known the number has increased: by then becoming two; and two in all the universe is the perfect prime number: especially for you.
"The two are identical but distinctly seperate as the flower, which is perceived as one.
"And as the two shall grow, the eldest must, through her own accord, be brought to task. For if left to her own device the younger shall once more cruelly pass. Cries must not dissuade, or stay your mothers' hand; cruel chastisement, a distancing of love, must be employed and for a time embraced, for he must not be turned with her fancied desire for him of satin or of lace.
"She must come to know his fears, for to her he must confide, as consequences for all within the two draw near, and through eternity shall abide.
"It is her shame the lesson he would learn, for ony the truth will he speak, it is all he has known.
"The eldest shall hold the key; through which the youngest may clearly see. The lens of sight to both, through her shall apply.
Take care Julia Athena, for the little one is most precious, for ages past his thoughts I knew and now will hold him dear. He is the key, the reason I am here. If you would fail my anger would be great, though Quillon may indeed be Fearsome, my wrath would have no end: and it would be but the beginning.
For, if you would fail, not only he but also all the others will be lost to us all forever.
"The pen before you is the last of three, when all are together, from Quillons judgement, shall you be free.
"The pen is yours. Keep it always close, its well is without end, unless through your actions all the innocents are condemned. There in shall hold the key.
"The univited shall reveal more of the innocents second end. The third shall through the Primal one shall speak as judgement draws near....for through three pairs of eyes all shall be sparkling and clear. The eldest
though far younger than the previous two, is also within the one: I had counseled when he was young. The first visited must be the last to face, console, without regret, acknowledge to the elder living, of the promise kept.
"Neither clothed, nor veiled, no raiment's shall be worn, for as he was lost he must be as he was and yet to be born.
"When you return to where you dwell, look above the door, a softer sound than commonly used must be applied. For in the letters another secret may apply.
"I have spoken...all of this I have foreseen.
"My child, all consequences accrue to you, be they bad or good, but then again, success is in your hands. At this time if you so choose, you may leave not only the pen as it lays upon the table, but also pardon yourself of blame. I would only add that if you disowned the matter it is a conviction of innocents.
"Please, you must decide. I promise if you chose the latter, no physical harm shall come to you. If you succeed, you shall be overjoyed without end. Yet if you fail I fear for you.
"My reading is at an end.
"Your choice Julie Athena?"
-
"I remained silent for some time; thinking to myself: "pardon yourself of blame"...no, the parallel drawn and growing within me was all to clear. I refused it. I would not become a Roman governor: a Pontius Pilate...I would not symbolically wash my hands...and besides, the claim of "no physical harm" rushed through my head as well. It was unsaid, but the other incurrence was well implied: no childish I am rubber you're glue whatever you say bounces off of me back to stick to you game of words were employed. Whatever my choice, I would be literally stuck with it.
"I could not in good conscience walk away from this matter.
"No. This entire incident was more than mere chance. I wondered even more so; a game of chance? I remembered a thought by Stephen Hawkins: "God not only plays dice; he also sometimes throws the dice where they cannot be seen." Is this the case?
"The silhouette laughed at my thoughts.
"As I reached for the pen, with my left hand, she spoke once more."
Consider well Julie Athena, for once you have but touched its body, the bargain is struck. No reconsideration shall be afforded." I quickly withdrew my hand.
"Second thoughts?" she mused aloud.
"Damn it!" I replied. You, you keep jumping into my head! Am I supposed to decide or not?! I was going to take the pen, but you went after me again! Why? I mean, I know "you" want me to take it, but then tell me if I do, my fate is all but sealed. Besides, the "innocent" to which you keep referring, they're condemned if I screw up!?
"That is really a one-sided bargain, isn't it?"
Her reply: "So it would appear. Besides you will become acquainted with such in but a short period."
"I shouted back to her: "Never, I'd never do that to someone else!"
"Even," she said, "if it where to guarantee success? The means to an end: success, for you and the others would truly pivot upon it.
"Again I paused and considered her words.
I replied: "Then why, why should I? After all, how, why am I now mixed up in all of this? Moreover, still judged and almost condemned at the same time.
"Once more she laughed at me. Then spoke."
"No, my child, I do not laugh at you. You consider the whys and wherefores. Yet, you are not aware of the connotations, to the choices made; not only yours but of the child you met. I am afforded the leeway of conveyance, prior to your choice. Additional information may be tendered.
"The "little One" had made his selection. He has chosen you. Why? Because all others have failed him; and of all the selections available: he believes you will not.
"The wherefores, to him are evident; a nobility of purpose has consumed him. And of the innocents; the laughter you heard, through him, is but a portend of the joy all would experience.
"Julie Athena, it is not what I want you to do, but rather; what you will yourself too. And yes, it is more than sheer circ-umstance. So, I must again entreat, please decide."
"I did not hesitate; I grabbed the pen with my right hand. The die were cast.
"I closed my eyes and cried. For a short while she left me alone. As I tried to wipe the tears from my face, she again spoke. But, for now, I cannot reveal the essense of what was spoken. Only her statement may I relay: "The parchment, to your left, while appearing blank, is not. It is for you to secret. It must be held in abeyance for the first-born son: yet entrusted to him; for upon it is written.................. When the paradigm is conveyed and completed, it shall be his to look upon, its script bought forth by ambosia. It is then, when all all shall be righted; it is our laurel to him."
Mother stands in silence, gathers herself and continues.
"Now, Julie Athena, you must leave."
"I did as she asked. I took the blank parchment and folded it to thirds: as to fit within an envelope. I walked from the house but found myself running to the car with both pen and parchment in hand. I never let either of them go as I drove back to pick up Margie and Gina. I was always so certain of so many things; now, now, there was no clarity, all was hazed ambiquity.
"I found my way back to Margie and Gina: it was just in time. As they walked from the two-story house, they were all smiles. Me, I was wrecked. I could not hide it.
I slid over to the passenger seat and tried to hide my face. It didn't work. Both shook their heads. Margie asked: "You O.K. Jewels?"
My reply was tortuous. "No. I'm not...reallly. I didn't expect...damn it, damn it all and ....and crap on it too! Margie, I...I...didn't know what to expect and now....I don't really know what I'm in for! All I know is that, no, I really don't know much of anything any more. Please, don't ask. Because I wont tell. Right now, right now I'm kind'a hungry. Anywhere you want is fine...but, I...I...don't want anything to drink, y'know? Just a sandwich and a glass of...milk?
"Gina leaned over the front seat and whispered to Margie. Both shook their heads. I saw the look on their faces: "This girl is afu!!"
I looked up and saw all the clouds in the sky, as an afternoon sun shower made it presence known: while at the same time listening to the child's voice in my mind. As she/he spoke to me, I completed the four letter word. In hushed voice , I sang, to myself, to Gina and Margie, and to...the little one.
Rows and floes of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
I've looked at clouds that way
But now they only block the sun
They rain and snow on everyone
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way
I've looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
Its clouds illusions I recall
I really don't know clouds at all.
Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels
The dizzy dancing way you feel
As every fairy tale comes real
I've looked at love that way
But now its just another show
You leave 'em laughing when you go
And if you care, don't let then know
Don't give yourself away.
I've looked at love from both sides now
From give and take, and still somehow
Its loves illusions I recall
I really don't know love at all
Tears and fears and feeling proud
To say I love you right out loud
Dreams an schemes and circus crowds
I've looked at life that way
But now old friends are acting strange
They shake their heads, they say I've changed
Well somethings lost, but somethings gained
In living every day
I've looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
Its lifes illusions I recall
I really don't know life at all
I've looked at life from both sides now
From up and down and still somehow
Its lifes illusions I recall
I really don't know life at all.
"The rest of the trip back and thoughout the remainder of the school year; I kept to myself."
Mom just covers her eyes with both hands and cries.
Christina turns loose of my hand and edges towards the foot of my bed. She knows something, but isn't, no, actually she doesn't want me to read her. I look at her and nod...whispering "K...have it your way"
Her reply, "No, it's not like that. Honest. Mom needs what I have. Trust me. Please?"
Aside: "We are in agreement. We trust you."
As my sister and I speak, Mom has withdrawn from her button down shirt pocket what appears to be a pen: she presents it to me.
Acknowledgment: "Both Sides, Now." Joni Mitchell
-
"Mom...I won't take it...not until...I get to ask you a couple of questions...K?
"And Christina, all of us trust you, but I kinda know what you're going to look for. But, please...don't. Not yet, just let this whole thing play out the way it's supposed too. Otherwise, what you and Krystal and all the rest of us did...were gonna have to go through this again...and I don't really think it'll be all that close the next time 'round. I don't want to play this dumb ass game again! The paradigm has to be right."
Mom gives me a puzzled look and nods just once. I don't know if she agrees with my statement to Christine or if I should just go ahead and ask my questions. I figure: just ask the questions.
Christina nods back to me; she's not as antsy...and for the first time I can read Krystal...she's going to help me again. At the same time, I realize it was her hand that led me to the napkins; her voice telling me to set my own pace and it was her arm that rested on my shoulder and asked me if I wanted to stop for awhile. I thought it was my sister. I was right...just picked the wrong one.
Christine just starts to realize that she can hear Krystal talk to me as well as her. The look on her face is priceless. It's also coupled with the fact that she is more ashamed now than ever before; especially of how we're both dressed: and of what she had in store for me.
Mom...she just kind of holds her breath. I watch as the pen and her hand fall away from me as she lowers her right hand while at the same time I mutter: "The die is cast. In for a penny, in for a pound: but your not really betting for coin: its a lot more valuable."
I know Mom's getting a lot more nervous, 'cause of the way she's taken hold of the pen: looks like she's trying to strangle the living dog squeeze out of it...crap...I hope she's not going to switch over to my neck...'cause nothings going to pry her grip loose.
Her eyes dart quickly to Christine and me. Back and forth they go. I wince and start to shy away. I never thought it would be like this...and I know...I don't want to see her cry anymore. I just close my eyes and whisper a one-word prayer: "Please."
I know, I have to carry on.
"Mom...before I touch it...I gottta know a couple a things: for one," I think to myself, go soft and don't rush it, and please don't send her over the edge! Gently I continue, "Mom, how do you think this guy...Stephen Hawkins...knew that God played dice?"
Her eyes come to rest on me. She's thinking and looks "puzzled." You can barely notice it, but her head is moving side to side. It's not an answer but kind of what you do when you really don't know the answer to something. Me...if I did that right now...I'd hear my brains rattle. Thankfully, everyone in silence agrees.
"And... how'd you know?...it was more than a game of chance...uhh," I whisper the remainder..."did she ever explain why she laughed at you for even thinking what you did?"
"Please...I really don't want to upset you... honest... but... you know Mom... you said you would give me "three reasons"...why you did...what you did.
"You know...it's O.K....I can buy most of the three reasons part...if you are just talking about...Asty...Elias...and Joachem. But that's just using them as an excuse...isn't it? I mean...you never even knew they existed until...just a couple of hours ago.
"So...please...just tell me that there's more to it than that for you. Because I'm thinking....where do I really fit in with you?
"I thought when I met you the first time, I'd really found someone to love: just...me. But Joachem, you really love him. And you don't really even know him. I know you love him, and so do you, and when the others show up...what about me? Did you really think that you'd just get picked at random...just like that...out of a crowd?
Everyone I hear jumps my bones. Basically it's: "You can't ask her that dooffuss!! You're gonna screw the pooch!!!!!"
I turn my head to both of my sisters, but every one can hear me voice: "No I'm not...now you trust me...just one more time? Please?"
They agree with a nod and silence.
"And "cruel chastisement," if that means giving out punishment and making it look like you...you...liked what you were doing and not really looking like you lo...I mean...liked me...yea...I really...really believe you there. You really played the part well.
I rather expected an explosioin from her when I ripped her with the last question. But, instead, she blew it off. Like, shrugging off a pitch that came in for a strike...no...more like a high and tight pitch...you saw it coming and just barely made an effort to move out of the way...cause you know...your way better than the clown who threw at your head. I hoped she isn't the "Mighty Casey."
Mother's green eyes are watery.
Cautiously Mom replies, she chooses to answer the first of the questions. She still hasn't picked up on some of the stuff I said. At least...that's what I thought or think anyway.
"Chris, mathematics was one of my majors. I'd always been fascinated by numbers and somehow I'd just ran across one of the articles he'd written. I did think it strange, that every time I would research a project, my mind would wander back to this particular quotation.
Mom carefully continues, "But for the life of me, I really don't know. It was always coupled with a phrase in Latin that kept popping into my head...what was...."
Before she could answer, I finished her sentence, "You mean..."ludus duodecim scriptorium?"
Mom's face tells a lot...she understands. She doesn't have to say it out loud, anyone could read her lips...even from as far high up as the Gallery of the Gods...in astonishment... she simply mouths: "You!"
-
I nod yes...but gently...reply out loud to her silent word. "Mom...she told you it was "more than sheer circ-umstance." But...she couldn't tell you why.
"Mom, I had to be sure. Honestly. It was simple, at least for me. I chose you.
"Out of all the hundreds and thousands of mother's...I...well...I did some research...field trips you might say...and sorta became...creative. I know I'm cutting you off of your train of thought...but you don't understand...honest and truly.
"All of the times before I'd been through this I refused to go along with them...I thought the whole system was a load of crap! And I told them so! Mom...before your born again...they give you what shows up or ready if you want to use that word...like O.K....here's an available body... your gonna pop out of this crotch...so off you go...get a life...and oh...be sure you progress...must move on up you know.
"But...they make you feel like you have no choice. The thing is Mom...you do have a choice. You can go along with what they give you...but that includes forgetting everything that's ever happened to you. Or...you can refuse...which means your basically... wasted. But..."
Aside: Elias! Yes you could use that word instead of wasted. I know you liked...ohh please Elias just...O.K. I'll take the word back...yes...I'll say the line.
"Mom, if you refuse, your..."Oblueterrated."
I shake my head and mutter..."Now they're even accessing my favorite movies!"
"From the very first time, I refused. And every time after that, when my name came up...I told them "No." But, if you want I'll play any game you want, you know, I'll bet you. If I lose I'll take a hike, but, I wont walk through the mist. I...I got to remember, everything. A promise was made.
"No one had ever challenged them with that condition before. They accepted.
"Anyhow, that's the game I gave you to think about. You know every time you went to the library there'd be a kid facing you...looking at you...always three rows up and two seats over. You were always pretty regular, on time and stuff, so, since I knew you were going to be my Mother...I could sort of brush by you...from time to time...and offer some suggestions. Touching you was not out of bounds!
"So right after I checked you out...I made my final bet. And if your wondering if they ever missed me...no...no fences and really .... no gates...except for the main Pearly ones...check in you know. So basically, if you were in they always figured you would come back if you went for a round-a-bout.
"Anyhow, I agreed to play this "ludus duodicem scriptorium." Again. You call it backgammon. But this time I doubled down right after the first roll.
"I told them straight up..."You know...I'll bet you again...but if I win...I get what I want, but if I lose, you get the stisfaction of knowing that you've screwed another soul, except with me, you know there'll be a whole lot more; and, you even get to smile about it. Right now, I'll role the cube, and if it comes up sixty four that's a whole lot of times your going to see me run through here.
"Thing is, everyone in the place knew I'd never won a game from Him. I'd always use the wrong strategy and try to double down too late. Every time I doubled down the number of trips I agreed to became longer. And if your into numbers Mom...it's the prime number multiplied by itself by eight. That's two-hundred and fifty six.
"Mom, eventually you were gonna get thrown into the mix as well, I just...just...well ...sort of got...got...what you might call..."creative?" That's how I chose you....and not the other two you were riding with...looked them up too. It wouldn't be their fault...they wouldn't make it.
"Anyhow, I sweetened the pot. I said, "Look, if you let me make my own choice and it gets messed up...again... I'll take your shower. You can even check her out before hand. If I lose, no more arguements, and I'll never tell you again that fish stink, even if they are Your's! But if I win, then I get to take four of all the one's I've been before with me. The rest, you promise to start over again, but as brand new; like no bad marks against them, and they really and truly get watched over.
"That's where Krystal comes in."
Aside: "Look guys , cool your jets, your really all me, and I'm really you, so we've all been in this together: especially Krystal. All I know is that...that I didn't want to play another round of this stupid game. And now, more than ever, I still dont!"
Both the standing room only crowd and the Gallery of the Gods lean forward as if in unison. All await.
"NO DAMMIT! Everyone...I CAN COUNT THAT HIGH. ONE...by itself is only one...and...one more that's TWO....yea I'm on a roll!...so add one more...makes it THREE! AND ONE MORE MAKES...FOUR...SO THERE!!! THERE'S FOUR!! NO ONE'S GONNA ...be...f'ked. Hell, you guys know how many times I've gone throught this! You only get to talk to each other and me...me...I got all the others blasting in my head and now they're about to go ballistic! NO!. Th..."
"Listen, please...right now...everyone. There's too much rummaging in my head going on. So...YES...I did say twins.
"Yea...I know....BUT THAT WASN'T THE BET!!!
"I DOUBLED DOWN BUT THIS TIME I...WE ... WON!!! YEA... I KNOW I TOLD Mom TWINS! But...but...please...think about what She said...SHE didn't ever actually really say the word ...twins...you know how SHE is. You ALWAYS have to figure out what "She's" really talking about!
"O.K! O.K! "She" said: "Two sets. You began the game.
Round you have come to play again. In all of heaven it is known, the mischief you have sown. But there shall be TWO SETS. The four chosen shall come with you, all others shall begin anew. The house your Mother once adored; confirmation sets above the door. Count and recount your rise and fall, but, the summation of the last shall total four."
"That's what "She" said. A set is two, but...if you roll double deuces: it's four. So cool it guys. I mean it. No. It's not a threat...just a rhetorical statement. Thanks...I promised...and I always keep mine.
"Mom... sorry...the watchamacallit...the paradigm...you or really She said...there were three parts. Joachem says it has to do with something called Weltanschauung. He's trying to explain some of the stuff...and some of the stuff you just said, I understood...what you were talking about. Some of it is pretty easy. But...I promised myself we wouldn't get screwed again!
"HA!! What a joke. You know...you know, I'm probably the oldest twelve year old virgin your ever gonna meet!!! I trail off..."Never been really screwed except figuratively of course.
"I think I understand...but...really...I'm afraid... I'm not really sure. So I know...I know what I told you about you having twins. But...that means...if I'm wrong...that means that two...two...including Krystal...aren't gonna...be back with me?
"If that's the case, its not fair. They always cheat you. Sure...you take what they give you and...and...they don't even say good luck. It's worse than wham bam thank you ma'm! You know it's gonna happen...just a question of time.
"What a joke...almost every time...almost every time...except for Joachem...I'd get shined off... I'd only make it to ten.
"If its only two, I promise you, I won't stick around much longer! Besides, its...NOT FAIR! THAT WASN'T PART OF THE BET!..THE PROMISE!..If...if...I won.
"So, I guess another one of my questions is what hangs or hung above your door. The only thing you ever mentioned was some stupid ass letters."
Mom just smiles back at me, or us, damn it! Everyone is waiting and I feel like I'm going to get tossed off a cliff one more time...just for good luck. This time she answers the last question, avoiding the one about her and me.
"What hung above the old sorority house and now the new one are the golden Tri-Delt letters. I presumed that since all of you have such a close relationship you may have answered the question for yourselves. But if that is not the case..." mom really starts to break into a big grin..."the letters represent a particular letter in an alphabet.
"It is the fourth letter. Alpha, the first, is the beginning. Beta, is the second. Gamma, is the third. And Delta, it is the fourth. So, if I estimate, by both the paradigm you have just stated, and your recollection of your bet...there will be four: not two.
"Besides Chris, even a Mother like me can tell when her son goes up and down the stairs; and always counts the number of steps. Your lips move.
"Twenty-two. Twenty-two up. Twenty-two down. The sum of the last integer is: four.
"And before you take this pen in hand, you will relay what you mean by "being creative." Moreover, how pray tell is Krystal involved in this?
"After you tell us all...then I will answer your third question: the three reasons. But, before you do so, Christina will explain why you are both dressed as you are.
-
"Oh, and as an afterthought, have you not considered what the word for four children being born at the same time is?"
"It is: quadruplets."
Now her grin breaks even wider.
She continues, as she softly caresses my cheek.
"And if, you are into coincidence, my little one, my mischief maker, and it is indeed, more than chance: the ... Fourth ... letter in the word is "d," the same letter as used in three alphabets. The one you speak in and in both the ancient and modern other: and in all three, it is the ... "Fourth"... letter."
At the same time, she genuinely smiles at me. Best one I'd never seen from her since I don't know when.
Mom replaces the pen in her shirt pocket; her attention turns to my sister and gives her the "look."
You know the one, where they don't hafta say a word, its the one where they just look at ya' and you know your excuse or explanaton had better be spot on or your ass is grass and they're the lawnmower!
Before I turn my head away, I spy Melinda. She has now moved silently to stand directly behind her mother. She steals a peak with her right eye from behind her mom: Brisa.
The three within me continue to laugh and playfully sing: "We know something you don't know."
I shake my head and turn away: not from their laughing, 'cause I know: you can't run and hide with what you carry with you, but, from what Christina is now about to say and even more so from the now steady gaze of the last of my dreads: Melinda.
I feel like I'm trying to push a chain up a mountain in a rain storm. My eyes are leaking and so is the rest of me. The pull-up I'm wearing feels like a sponge that hasn't been wrung out.
I begin to read my sister, by mistake, honest. Now I really know why we are dressed like we are. I think to myself ... well ... maybe ... it sorta does kind-a go ... what was the whole word ... they used to call me ... Up there?
"Oh yea" ... I mumble out loud ... "I was called a ... sissy something. Yea, now I remember. "Here he comes or there she goes..."old sissy fuss!"" I shake my head ... "Damn ... I was even called one Up there! Geez Christine ... the ... "sissy walk?"
"Is that why you called me "Chrissy? ... 'cause it rhymes with ... sissy? I could barely take it ... Up there ... from all of them ... but you?"
Christine is about to speak. But, Mom stops her: "Christine, a moment please." Mom again looks at me. She's still smiling? At me? But...she has a puzzled look on her face and I know ... it's not because of what my sister was going to say.
"Christopher, what you just said you were called. Do you know what it means?"
I sheepishly admit, "Yes Mom. It means your not really a boy ... you know ... you're just a fussy sissy. I mean, you are really a boy but you act so much like a prissy girl that you just might as well get used to ralphing every time you hear the word."
Mom quizzes me, "Ralphing?"
"Mom ... it's just another word for puke, vomit, hurl chunks, going liquid ... you know!"
Chris, I know what a sissy is. It is also used to describe a coward or a very timid male, who runs away. You are none of those. You used another term. You said you were called "old Sisyphus." You really don't know the meaning of the word or the term: do you?"
"Sure I do Mom, it means that if you look like a girl, or even made up to look like one, even if you don't like it ... you hafta be one ... but ... if you like them so much you want to be like them... so you just ... well ... it's just not what other boys would be like ... isn't that right?"
Mom can barely contain herself. She giggles as she tries to explain.
"No, my little one, my mischief maker. The word or term as it was used to describe you, was not meant to be offensive.
"In mythology, Sisyphus was purported to be a king, condemned by the gods to roll a boulder for all eternity up a hill. Unfortunately, for him, it would always roll down again, just prior to reaching the summit.
"The term is used to descibe a seemingly quite repetitive, unending or unrewarding activity. It was not used to hurt you. It was stated to offer understanding: of the major or significant and noteworty effort of what you were attempting to do."
"MOM! How am I supposed to know this kind of stuff?! I was too busy trying to find you! Not...researching mythology!
"And all this time I thought ... Oh God ... no wonder He always laughed at me: when He used His jewelers eye to look into me. Everytime, He'd ask if I wanted to complain about anything else. I figured I was on the permanent shit list so I would just say "nothing out of the ordinary ... for me."
Mom again quizes me. "Jeweler's eye?"
"Yes ma'm. You know ... it's what the guy who fixes watches uses to look at all the tiny working parts to 'em. He doesn't need one, but that's what He says everytime he looks into you. "What do we have here? Let Me use My Jeweler's Eye."
Those within me are silent. The Gallery of the Gods ... I can just imagine.
-
Damn am I embarrassed! I pull my pillow up and bury my face in it. Thor's feather now rests at the head of my bed.
Both of my sisters tell me to calm down. Again ... through Christina ... I see Mom smiling: at both of us. She tells my sister to "Go ahead."
At least she doesn't add "make my day!" I giggle ... I really think ... honest and truly ... that that's what's happening ... at last ... were going to make hers!
Christine begins: "The truth ... the truth is ... I ... well ... well ... yes I do ... an explanation ... I have one ... but I don't think it's really all that good of one ... especially now. In fact, now that I think about it ... not only is it awful ... but it's kind of lame too. But it is the truth.
"I know I was mad at Chris ... it was his idea to just stand side by side so that Melinda's mom couldn't tell us apart. But ... I ... well ... took advantage of the situation. It was my idea to dress him up ... the clothes ... the hair ... the ... the make up ... and even the sandals...I took the flats so we would be the same height.
"But ... damn it ... I really wanted to make it clear to them, Mrs. Agapp and Melinda, how more than just look a likes we really are or were. And ... and ... why he was so afraid ... I tried to explain ... but it all came out mumbled jumbled. Maybe I should have just kept my nose out of the whole thing ... except ... I didn't want to see him hurt anymore."
Christina pauses then turns to look at both of them. At least the pains I felt before are starting to fade ... now ... they're just a dull throbbing ache.
Christine continues: "Mom ... you said "with but a touch of your hand you can make him talk. Or is there more to it than that?" The answer is "Yes" a lot more.
"Mom ... I called it "Puppet on a String." I ... pulled the strings ... he ... was ... the ... puppet.
She breaks her explanation. "Chris ... please ... I know I promised that I'd never do it to you again ... crap .. in the last forty minutes or so I've broken a lot of promises I made to you ... and I don't feel very proud or good about it either."
Everyone sees the back of my head nod three times. While I do, I recite the part of the paradigm that has just hit me .. ending in "her fancied desire of him for satin or of lace." While at the same time a lot more of it starts to make more sense.
She continues, "Mom, I'd planned to make a .. ah ... grand entrance. With everyone downstairs all of you would be watching the stairway ... it would only take a couple of minutes ... I wanted to prove to all of you what I told Mrs. Agapp was the truth about the two of us and ...
"Anyhow," she continues, "we'd present ourselves at the top of the stairwell in "our" pink party dresses. I'd have given him a pink silk hanky to hold in his right hand, I'd hold a white one in my left; and that, would launch the beginning of stage two.
"Chris would be on my right and we would start down the stairway. We are mirror images.
"It would begin with a simple nod to each other. Then, we'd move our heads closer: cheek-to-cheek and exchange faux kisses. Then slowly our heads would turn and face the audience. We would hold for a count. Then, give a slight lick of the lips; all synced, even down to the batting of our eyelids: four quick flutters.
"A soft turn of the head, in opposite directions, then return to look straight ahead .. a deep inhale and sighing release. A gentle look down, both inward, to the next step down with but a slight tilt of the head ... another slow but now sensuous lick of the lips ... then ... with nose turned up the free hand moves palm up to hang as limp wristed as can be with the silk hanky held by first finger to thumb with the pinky sticking out.
"We would begin with a soft step down. He steps with the right ... I step with the left ... our hips move softly and roll with the step ... shoulders are back and chest thrust out. Both feet are almost together, except, that before the next step, one heel raises, the one on the outside...forcing us to almost face each other, then a slight curtsy coupled with a mutual nod and hold for a count .. return to standing position, then a soft step down with the opposite foot... look to each other again ... a soft nod ...we repeat the choreophraphy on every step.
We're mirror images. The entire length of the stairway is the ramp. It takes us to the floor show.
-
"Anyhow, that's why we have the dresses on."
Mom asks: "Stage two? To, the floor show? Explain and do ... it ..." Mother never finishes her sentence. Only now ... for the first time does she take a closer look at all that we're wearing. I guess even most moms have them and break them out sometimes ... their "jeweler's eyes" that is.
With a smile she asks, ever so gently, "Sweet thing .. not you Chris..."
Damn! Does that make me feel just great!
"...Christina, I will grant, without question, your ability. Moreover, I will not, nor do I think will your Father, be upset with you: as it appears, that if it were not for your "sticking your nose into it," the paradigm itself may have gone unfulfilled.
"But I wonder, why the two sets of clothes? You mentioned stage two. Then by deduction I presume what you both wear beneath the dresses was to be "stage one."
"Yes, you both wear dresses, and each so well, I might add: yet, beneath them is hidden another set.
"When I entered your room, you held a boom box ... yours. Moreover, since you made no mention of musical accompaniment, as your brother called it for your "sissy walk," I must presume it was to be used for your: "floorshow."
"Yes, in addition, I must acknowledge: your sometimes joyful use of sarcasm, coupled with such a finely honed and sometimes warped sense of humor, that it would have to be a ... classic ... in fact knowing you as I do, dare I say it? What would it be...?"
For some reason I think Mom is playing with my sister.
Damn! It's like whenever He looked into you He'd smile ... nothing said ... but ... it wasn't like it was a liars face. Nope. Looked like the one He always had ... when He knew the outcome before you even thought of what you were going to roll ... before you even thought of a word to say.
As I try to think of the phrase he would always say ... Mom continues.
"Christine, I will not say it. Instead, I will write the title down. If I am wrong, I profoundly apologize in advance and will double your allowance. However, if I am correct ... I'll halve your allowance and increase your brother's by that amount. A bet?"
Christina's mouth drops open and it looks like she gives a nod of "Yes." I could be wrong ... but she really doesn't think Mom has that much going for her ... at least not on this one.
Mom quickly makes her way to my desk and on a note pad quickly writes her "guess" to be on it. While at the same time asks, "Melinda, if you please, down the hall and to your immediate right is Christina's room. In plain sight there is a boom box. If you please, bring it to me."
With a nod of consent ... the living specter of my dreads ... quickly turns and leaves. Within seconds ... she returns and passes the box to Mom. Again she assumes her previous position ... behind her mother ... Brisa.
Now I remember! What He said to me ... every time ... just before I tossed the dice. "Consider, Mine is the pat hand."
I blurt out, "Christina ... she knows something! She ... has a pat hand! Your toast!"
At the same time ... I look at the boom box and start to laugh. Because ... because the box is nothing but clear plastic. You can see everything ... inside ... including the cassette my sister loaded.
I look at Christine ... giggling as I speak ... "you know ... you know ... Christine ... if your going to bet, at least make sure who your betting against hasn't loaded the dice!! She can read you know! Its her tape!
"It's in Royal Blue ink labeled: RHPS!!!! It only has one song on it!
But it's recorded back to back to back to back .... four times!!!! And Mom's right you do have a "Warped" sense of humor.
So who was I going to be? Columbia or Magenta?
-
My sister shakes her head slightly and giggles. Then gives a shrug of her shoulders and smiles at Mom with an impish grin and with those Dondi eyes; then nods ... and begins to speak.
"Chris, it would have made no difference, we are mirror images. Mom, can I explain part of the paradigm?"
Mother smiles and nods her consent.
"Except for the height difference, we are indistinguishable. We are two, but perceived as one: just like the flower. I saw the same flower at Meadow Watch. The entire meadow is covered with them: its called a daisy.
"At the center of the flower, is the disk floret. Around it are the petal florets. Believe it, cause its true, they look like one flower, but in fact are two! Furthermore, my sweet, the flower was and still is known; for its purity and innocence. I do believe you qualify on both counts.
"I understand how Elias could not help but stop and smell all of the flowers. I found myself doing the same thing. It was surprising to walk in the meadow and have everything seem to meet you. I mean it. It was as if everything knew me. Except, it wasn't me they thought they first recognized: it was you! Or, rather you as Elias. You made some impression!
"What's more, in the same field, along with all of the daisies were the other flowers: the other in the paradigm. Bet you can't guess the other one that applies, can ya?"
Bewildered ... and with unblinking eyes ... I simply shake my head ... "No."
Christine chimes back at me, "No problem-o my little one the .."
I cut her off. Hey! You promised you'd never call me that in front of anyone except our cousins or aunts and uncles: family. You know."
She giggles back at me, "Oh, so I did. It must have slipped out. I'm really sorry Chris. But, Mom has already called you that so can you forgive me?" She gives me the same impish look she gave Mom.
I shrug my shoulders and whisper, "Sure, whatever. Gonna be wrecked when I get to school anyway with her, you know, Melinda, being here. Seeing me like this, dressed like a girl."
"Thanks," was her smiling and almost laughing reply.
"Now, before you interrupted me. I was going to tell you the name of the other flower which grew wild in the Meadow: almost as many as the daisies. The flowers name is the Iris. Again Christopher, there is another meaning, or two, maybe even three.
"The first has to do with the colors. At Meadow Watch there were three. Purple, yellow and white. Purple flowers are supposedly for royalty; and I haven't figured that part out yet. But it also stands for courage and admiration. On those two counts, I have to give you full credit.
"Yellow is for passion. Here again, I quite don't have that one down either.
"Lasly, white for sympathy. You defintely; have mine, and I'm pretty sure Mom and Dad's. I told you, if I had to go through that and remember I'd be mental!
"Oh, I almost forgot. In mythology, Iris was the name of the messenger for the gods. It was her or his job to communicate what had happened either between them or what had happended on earth back to them.
"Now for the rest of the paradigm: that I can figure out. You remember the name of the first troop I belonged to: it was called the Iris Girls. In addition the name of my second troop was the: Up-C-Daisy Girls.
The first time I met our Angel was when I was in the Iris Girls. That is what she was teaching me about ... how to see. Sorry, no pun intended. Chris, when I went to Meadow Watch I was in the Daisy Girls. That's when she said I'd grown up. Well ... maybe I did mean to use it as a pun there.
"Now, for the kicker! "The lens of sight to both through her shall apply," that's part of the paradigm. Chris: it is what we all see through with our eyes. Even the lens openings of cameras are named for it. The Iris.
Mom ... my allowance, it's way worth it and more ... besides, the way we're dressed also has something to do with present company."
To my surprise, Christine turns away ... from Mom ... to look straight at Melinda.
"Chris," she continues, "I told you that there were some things you didn't know anything about.
"Chris, everyone, and I do mean everyone knows something that you do not!
"And to quote you it's been, "...sort of like a pact that remains among friends," except in your case, it's every one you've ever been. They all know! And if you haven't figured it out yet, one reason is because She's had a hand in it all: right from the very start. Of course, there was a lot of help, from Higher Up along the way.
"I told you, Melinda, that you were barking up the wrong tree. But you wouldn't listen. It wasn't me you saw at the mall ... and it wasn't my sister ... it was him. Not my twin ... " she pauses and points to my crotch "my fraternal twin...you missed it by that much!"
She gives a quick head jerk... back to me .... she doesn't even try to look me face on. My sister continues as I try to take this all in.
I look at Mom's face. I could be wrong but she's downright smiling and crying at the same time. In fact, the only person besides me who hasn't a damn clue is ... Melinda. She looks just as befuddled as I feel.
'Cept ... there's still something wrong with the way she looks. I mean ... her face ... just ... just isn't the same as the picture.
Acknowledgment: Dondi....Gus Edson and Irwin Hasen
-
Christine continues, "And, ... and ... uhh ... well ... sorry Melinda ... I tried to tell you a couple of times ... but you wouldn't listen. You were so adament! You ... you ... thought you had a crush ... on me ... but I kept trying to tell you, how much we really looked alike. And I didn't want you to blow him out of the water on the guided tour by thinking ... well ... you know ... he's my brother. Not a ..."
At least my sister doesn't say the obvious.
It doesn't take much of a brain to read Melinda's lips. "Ohh ... crap! ... all this time?" She never gets to start saying what she's thinking 'cause now Mom cuts her off by addressing Aeron D.
"Aeron, it is Aeron is it not? And the last name is ... Deryn?"
The woman who calls herself "Sachem of the Northern Tribes smiles" ... then replies.
"Mrs. Markison, or may I call you Julie?" Mom nods as Aeron gives more than a casual nod towards Dad and Mrs. Agapp. She continues, "Julie, permit me a rhetorical question..."
I think to myself ... how many ... rhetorical questions are there?
"How may I begin ... indeed, this is more than mere chance or circ-umstance. To you and for all others: I am the "Uninvited guest."
"Yes, the first name I use is my given one. It is the same as used, by all women, for generations in my family. And as your daughter Christina has begun the interpretation of the paradigm which you brought forth; I will clarify: for you, for her, for your son Christopher and for the one, the one, who was and still is called, Elias ... the unknown facts.
"After all, you yourself announced me as the "guest dramaturge." That, Julie Athena, would be an understatement.
"Julie, my given name of Aeron, means "goddess of battle or of slaughter." The second, Deryn, is spoken with less emphasis on the first letter of the name, which is indeed the fourth letter of the alphabet: and pronounced as in the paradigm; "There in." It's meaning is but one word: bird. All of my ancestors use it to describe but one: the eagle.
All within me are silent ... except for Elias ... I know ... and I cry for him. While at the same time wonder as to what Christine has just said. And Melinda ... she stands with her mouth open ... staring at me ... with those eyes that I know so well.
The look on Mom's face says it all ... looks like she's holding her breath ... waiting for the other shoe to fall.
Aeron steps from the proscenium arch, on to the apron, and begins.
"Julie, I am known, as "The Sachem of the Northern Tribes" and yes I am Algonquin; mostly. It, Sachem, is for the most part today, as it was long ago, a hereditary position. Yet, for today, for your son and the one called Elias it takes on a greater meaning."
The raven-haired Aeron, removes the handbag she carries from her right shoulder and reaches within. From it she removes ... OHH CRAP! ... it's the same brochure that Mom has just shown Christine. I close my eyes ... and turn away. Both of my sister's look on for me.
Aeron shows the copy to Mom ... who now just shakes her head. Looks like she's going over the edge! Instead of a smile ... her face now gimaces and the tension in her ... well it's not gonna take much of a push to make her fall!
"Julie, no doubt you have seen a copy of this brochure; please, do not worry. For its contents reveal more to all concerned. The grave markers, within the gated cemetery; are discernable. Have you considered their individual significance? I'm sorry, for I do not wish to burden you with further riddles.
"But have you not considered why ... only the headstone of Edwina contains one significant word the other does not? The first one, not chiseled in stone and missing from William's headstone is: faithful.
The one called Aeron D. turns to face me.
"Christopher/Elias ... one and the same ... I carry a last name as well. It was taken, yet not uttered. Not one of my ancestors has spoken it: for to us it was told, it was forbidden, until summoned by the one who in ages past had bore the name, the name of the beloved, of the most feared warrior of all time ... Achilles. The name of his beloved was: Brisa.
"To you, Christopher/Elias, I also have a last name. It is ... Worthington.
-
Stillness ... and for the moment all are statues, the silence is overpowering.
All within me are calm and await ... my sisters ... and I ... "through three pairs of eyes" are enthralled and spellbound.
Aeron Deryn ... Worthington? Elias ... you ... no ... me .. or is it us ... were relatives to ... her?
She's what ... a long past and distant sister? So that'd make me ... all I know is that I'll never look at a plate of spaghetti the same way again!
Mom's face is just as thunderstruck as is Dads. Mrs. Agapp ... well ... chocolate cream pies in the face would be a treat she could better understand ... she looks from Aeron to her daughter ... back to Aeron ... her eyes then move to us ... or is it me? And me ... damn! What a joke! Recalls a bitch! Couple that with what I'm dressed as and sitting in ... pull-ups aren't made to hold this much!
Anyhow ... for now ... I guess just calling her Aeron will do. At any rate she speaks once more.
"Julie, as stated, I am Algonquin," briefly smiles and adds, "mostly."
She continues, but the smile fades from her light pink colored lips.
"The Northrn Tribes are numerous, among which are the: Nipissing, Oji-Cree, Odawa, Anishinaabe, Patawotomi, Abanaki, Saulteax, Mississaugas, Algonquin and many others as the Blackfoot, Cheyenne, Menomenie, Fox and Shawnee to name but a few; and others, if you were to include the numerous plains tribes.
"Your daughter began the interpretation with the significance of colors; yet was unable to complete that portion or expand upon it. I will begin there." She looks at me.
"Christopher/Elias, for the moment, we shall address your sister's interpretations." She smiles at me ... and for some reason ... as if it really mattered to her flatly states, "You do look as foretold, in appearance, you are indistinguishable from your older sister. You, and the others, will comprehend shortly. Personally, I too think you are cute!"
With that last bit ... my moaning reaction of, "Ohh no" ... again brings a smile to her face. For me ... the flood gates are open ... pull-ups ain't made for this kind-a crap! At least ... well ... I don't have to worry about that end of it! I think ... did I just make a joke?
She continues. But just as quick ... she's dead serious.
"Please understand, I have both a personal and a professional interest in the matter. Obviously, the personal portion is that we have a past mutual blood relationship. The second, professionally, coincides with the first. I am also a Professor of ancient cultures, folklore and mythology; and hold degrees in each.
"Julie, it would seem that our young wanderer has several talents. Christopher/Elias, you were indeed creative. Would you like me to explain, but a portion of how creative you were?"
I hesitantly nod "yes."
Only now do all within begin to understand. Christina and Krystal are puzzled ... as is Mother and those at the procenium arch ... while The Gallery of the Gods ... the muses* themselves ... smile ... they know!
*(Muses. Muse in mythology, was one of the nine daughters of Zues and Mnemosyne, the goddes of memory. The Muses inspired and presided over the "creative" arts. They were Calliope,Clio, Erato, Euterpe, Melpomene, Polyhmnia, Terpsichore, Thalia and Urania; responsible for epic poetry, history, love poetry, lyric poety, tragedy, sacred song, dance, comedy and astronomy respectively.)
Aerons eyes move to my sister and begins.
"Purple does stand for royalty.
"Christina, according to Homer and mythological text, Astyanax, was the son of Andromache and Hector, Troy's greatest defender. All were members of the royal family in the House of Priam. Astyanax was to be heir to the throne, second only in line to his father: Hector, son the the King. Astyanax his son: was a prince. Alternatively, if you fancy the word, a noble.
"Symbolically, purple , is historically the reserved color of royalty; and as you stated representing courage, purpose and one of resolve; in essence, it presented the finest qualities of nobility.
-
"The second color, yellow, does in fact stand for passion.
"Elias, was as gentle a soul, my people had known, and all with a passion loved him, and so honored by us. He especially adored the first who willingly took the name of Aeron Deryn.
"Though in Algonquin the actual term for bird is "pinisheezh," the child, was persuasive as seer my ancestors had known, insisting, that events yet to occur centered upon the meanings and intricacies in the usage of words, their juxtaposition, or, in fact, of something as simple as a given name.
"Our former blood enemies those who called themselves the Six Nations were the Oneida, Onandagas, Cayugas, Mohawk and Seneca. The derisive term for them collectively, is Irinakhoiw, or Iroquois if you desire, and to us it meaning translates as "rattlesnakes."
"Indeed, if you had happened to turn onto Seneca, all would have been lost, for they too had defeated us in battle.
"Julie, the evil Seneca priest, Szach - eh - waneh, took the life of our Elias. He despised the child not only for his beauty, but also for his voicing of love for a Greater Being, The One, other than his own dark lord.
"Elias could speak all of our languages: Algonquin, French, and of course, English. But was also fluent in other languages as well.
"He was passionate in his love of Aeron. However, his passion was not that of lust but that of an unspoken, almost kindred bond, as if between brother and of older sister. She was his closet confidant.
"Aeron also, was enamored with the child: not only through the wondrous tales he would relate, those scribed from the spoken legends concerning ancient warriors and of their battles, nor of his considerable gentleness, or of his sweet voice; for he sang to her on every occasion possible: even as he bathed, but also with his other talents and abilities.
"Among which it was known that the golden haired child, could commune with nature itself: and proved it so through the one he called Aquilla.
"Aeron on several occasions would find him face to face with this magnificent bird. Among the Native Peoples, it is the all seeing messenger of the Creator. On each occasion, she would not venture near; but respecfully watched from a distance.
"Moreover, on each occasion, except for one, after the bird had taken flight Elias would turn to Aeron, greet her, and tell her the following. "In the myth, it was foretold what Aquila must do. "Go down to Earth and sweep your great wings over the land until your jewel-like eyes finds the most beautiful youth in the land, and then deliver him to the Great Hall of Gods.""
"Aeron, I will leave shortly, for I am truly a portion of the legends of which I have spoken."
"The exception I just mentioned was unlike the others and the last between the two; and is of that fateful encounter I shall relate.
As Aeron approached Elias she spoke. The first portion of the conversation went as follows.
"Elias, kwey kwey ( Elias, hello )."
Kwey Aeron ( Hellow Aeron ).
"Elias, ninco kidjebawk. Ki monco pimadic na? ( Elias, how are you? ) Aneg? ( What's up? ).
Ni kee way Aeron. ( I am going home Aeron ). Tebwe ( Truthfully ).
Ki madza na? ( Are you leaving? ) Andi e izhaian? ( Where are you going ? )
Ni kee way, Aeron, wabak. ( I am going home, tomorrow ).
Wegemen? ( What? ).
Abtozak. ( At noon ).
Wegenen?
Abtozak.
"Here Elias paused and pointed to the meadow and spoke once more."
"Minwashin. ( It is beautiful ).
"Aeron, I am told, he will spread his wings and I will become but a shadow."
"Elias gave her a soft kiss upon her cheek: spoke but once more.
"Hide yourself among the thickets, we shall speak of what you have seen later."
"He turned and walked away, with tears in his eyes.
"It was from the forest edge, the next day, that Aeron beheld, not only the slaughter of the innocent Elias, but also, of the shadow, he had become and of the one which accompanied him. For Aeron herself a priestess, did possess the power to see shadows. On that day did she realize the significance of the given name. She was powerless to assist. Her remorse, her shame, at being so vulnerable and helpless was considerable. And vowed that if ever afforded the opportunity, she would without hesitation aid one such as him. Regardless of the consequences.
"Here I will wander for the moment. I used the term "our Elias," for he had been welcomed into our tribe: as both a member and that of blood brother: the blood oath taken between himself and Aeron.
Julia, Aeron, his mortal goddes, the one who will oversee the battle or of slaughter; and Deyron, the eagle, the bird, which would attend and guard, the name she had willingly taken, was given to her by ... Elias.
"As foretold, Aquila, took the purest essence of innocents, to the Heavens above and where one had been before, now two sat as one.
-
"On the ground, near to where the child lay, in a patch of dirt were both a sketching and a written phrase of six words. From that day forward, both, became a portion of our folklore, and of my ancestry. Spoken to each and every Sachem, generation to generation, from mother to daughter on down.
"The third color, white, not only expresses sympathy but also purity. Such was this child."
Aeron ... pauses ... for the moment. Then resumes.
"Julie Athena, before I continue, I have something of yours. I "found" it hanging from a gate: the very same gate, which allowed entry or exit to a very special house on Seminole Avenue: in Cassadaga. It is the same gate, which I saw you running through as I turned onto Seminole. You never bothered to stop, and retrieve it. Nor, did you bother to turn your car around. You left as quickly as possible."
Her handbag ... once shielded from sight ... is now clearly seen. On either of its sides is an emroidered eagle. It is centered and pressented as mirror images; sewn upon a background of blue skies, it is in flight, with wings spread, and sharpened talons extended and by appearance, fiercly ready to battle.
Aeron raises the flap covering a side pocket ... stiched to resemble a purple flower ... and reaches inside. She presents to Mom a bracelet. As she does ... she speaks to Mother.
"This belongs to you. As unique a bracelet as I have seen."
Aeron looks to me ... as Mom takes her "lost bracelet" in hand and in astonishment smiles.
"Julie, as you, I was bid entry, without the need to knock. As you, told to sit at the table. I too looked upon the silhouette, cast upon the screen and wondered the very same words as you. "Would I find the truth from a shadow?" Without my speaking a word, she spoke.
"The answer to your questions is held in your hand. First, find the jeweler: as the shadow has bid. When you are summoned: attend." That was her counsel.
"Julie, the design of the bracelet is similar to that of the sketching scribed in the dirt and as found by Aeron. Obviously, not as ornate, yet it was comprised of two distinct sets of charms: four interlocked hearts connected to two other interlocking hearts with four seperate tethers.
Aeron continues. "It took me years to find the jeweler who crafted your piece. It is a unique design. Hand made. Crafted by an individual of exceptional skill and talent. Your bracelet, is comprised of two distinct seperate and distinct sets of charms. The first set is four completely separate yet interlocking hearts.
"Also, take notice of the multiple gold chain links, tethered to the second set: of two slightly larger yet independent and still interlocking hearts. The total number of links in this bracelet Julie is two hundred and fity six.
"One enterprising individual, a jeweler by trade, did come upon the name of the artisan who made such a piece. The secreted last name of the artisan was veiled among the fourth set of links: Agapp.
"There were several jewelers by that name; yet, only one acknowledged the bracelet as his work. He claimed that a particulary striking young woman requested this piece as a solitary specialty item. He even showed me the dated receipt, which bears the maiden name you signed in acceptance: J. A. Aletheia. Julie, the date is two days prior to your trip to Cassadaga.
"That is how I came to find Brisa. His wife.
"Julie Athena, the sketch, found by Aeron, is the same design as your bracelet. The same design as which lines the inside flap cover of my handbag: sown by; my great grandmother.
"Also embroidered are the six words of which I mentioned. The same six as both of us had thought and as written by Christopher/Elias: "Find the truth from a shadow."
-
Damn ... what am I supposed to say? Ooops? I look to both Aeron D. and my Mom ... shrug my shoulders ... now all I can do is 'fess up.
"Aeron. I'm sorry ... should I call you that ... or "sister?" Or ... Ms. Worthington? I'm really not all to sure."
Her reply of, "Either sister or Aeron would be fine," and softly adds, "Tebwe."
"Sister?" As I turn to look at Christine ... she orders me again not to read a single thought ... she looks like a cat that's eaten the canary ... and nods a "Yes" to me.
"Mom ... I can explain ... but ... Aeron ... I ... I mean sister? ... geez that sounds weird ... well ... the bracelet ... she was gonna be my mother ... anyhow ... it was ... kind-a ... a ... mothers day present ... just kind-a early. And ... uhh ... well ... the six words ... and the number of links ... well we both thought ... at least there was symmetry. It fit. "In more ways than one."
"But Mom ... " as I try to talk Mom beckons me to stand right in front of her. I know the sign language. The first finger most always points at me. Then it's sorta like trying to egg-on a fish to nibble at the baited hook. Her head is moving ... slowly ... up and down while her first finger plays the line ... 'cept now ... at the end ... the finger is pointing to the spot where the hooked fish ... ME ... is gonna be netted. Jeez how I hate fish!
I try to speak as I stand and slowly peel my wet butt off the bed. At least now ... my stomach doesn't feel all that bad anymore.
"But ..." I take a quick glance down and back ... the obvious darkened spot on the light blue cover ... is there for all to see ... the wet spot says it all. I cringe as I try to continue my explanation.
"But I dont know a thing about Brisa ... I mean Mrs. Agapp. Honest Mom. Damn it ... "herrr" daughter ... "Mayy-linn-da"... the picture girl ... she haunted every one of my dreams! Why would I invite "herr?"
I never used a three letter word like a four letter one before!
"Always at the beginning ... and always at the end of each and everyone of them ... I'd have to look at ... at "herr" face! Mom doesn't say a word, just smiles and turns me around to face ... herr ... "Oh Crap!"
Mayy-linn-daa ... well ... looks like she's blown off what I said ... since her eyes are scoping every inch of me. Makes me feel like I'm gonna be the main course ... 'cause it looks like she's licking her chops!
I don't have to be a mind reader to know what Mom's gonna do. She's gonna scale me! Peel me like a banana! A quick glance to Christine ... she's leaning forward ... like she's sitting on the edge of her seat.
Mom undoes "my" two-inch sandals ... and with a flick of her fingers against the back of my heels gives me the unspoken signal to step out of 'em. Mom tosses them to the side ... the "plop - clunk" of them both hitting the tile floor in the bathroom is clearly heard.
Now ... as her fingers start to unzip the dress ... it looks like Mayy-linn-da would be more than eager to want to do the same to me as a stand in. Guess she's picked up on the "day as he was born" part. Ain't she gonna be disappointed!
I mean her eyes are getting wider and for the first time the face ... which always looked the same ... so one dimensional ... so distant and isolated to me ... now features more than a casual interest. I think to myself ... she's gonna devour me! Even I know that when a girl smacks her lips ... that's gotta be more than casual!
Aside, loudly and to all within: "O.K. Go ahead and smirk! See if I care!"
Mayy-linn-da acts as if I'm actually talking to ... her! She doesn't have a clue!
I try to head Mom off, "Uhh, Mom ... I don't think this is such a good idea. Can't I just take this stuff off in private ... like ... in the bathroom? Besides ... you turned me around to face "herr." Why sould I actually want to look at her or even talk to her! "Sides ... look at the way she's looking at me! Please?!"
"Anyhow ... I already know her face ... every bit of it! Doesn't look the same as the picture I keep seeing. Besides ... it's almost as if she's trying to hide something! I mean if I looked as ..... well ... like she did in the picture ... why would I hide it?"
With the last word barely spoken ... Mom eases the blush pink dress of my shoulders ... allows it to fall to the hardwood floor and chortles to me "Chris, just a jump to the left," and quickly if you please!"
Without thinking I do as she asks. But ... before the same moment my feet have hit the floor ... Mom is just as quickly pulling on the bottom of the slip ... down off my hips. Then the same instant both feet and slip touch the floor I unconsciously "take a step to the right."
Being totally embarrassed, "I put my hands on my hips and bring my knees up tight!"
As soon as I realize what I've done I turn around to look at Mom's face. With all the seriousnes she can muster ... giggles to me. "The devil made me do it!" She show's me her crossed fingers, her kings-x, and adds, "Sorry, couldn't resist. It had certain symmetry!"
All I can do is mutter, "Ohh, Mommy."
I turn to the arch ... of course I see what'd you'd expect! Aeron ... the same. The Gallery of the Gods ... they're rotflta off!
My sister ... Christine ... that is ... yea her too. 'Cept now she looks like the Cheshire cat! Looks to Mom and says " Told ya!"
Acknowledgement: Rocky Horror Picture Show - "Time Warp"
-
Boy am I really pissed ... and in more ways than one!
I jump Christina's bones, "You know Christine ... your laughing and giggling but it's not all that funny! Well ... maybe a little that is. Ha. Ha. Ha. But even you know it's not only that ... or really the clothes ... well O.K. sorta them too ... kinda. I mean look at me! Pink net stockings held up by a garter belt! Crap! even the straps show!
"Damn! Even the bra you made me wear shows through this flimsy blouse just like a girls would! I meant shirt. Golly ... ponytails ... bows ... and ... and make up?! And these dumb short-shorts with the butterfly on 'em ... why does almost everything you or Mom made we wear have them on 'em?
"Why? Didn't I already look too much like a girl?! The Theatre of the Absurd ... that's what you called it ... and ... and "misdirection is the key" that's what you said. But all of this is ridiculous!"
The three within are uncontrolled with their fits of laughter! I can barely cope and now ... feels like my transmission is slipping ... my whining is getting louder and it seems like I'm going nowhere fast.
"But what really ticks me off ... really ... you said ... "Everyone I'd ever been. They all know!" That they knew something that I didn't and that it was "sorta like a pact that remained among friends." You know I said that to Dad. But I sure as hell had nothing to do with her! I point towards the female bother and add "Honest! And neither did they! Any of 'em ... least that I know of. But right now ... all of them ... they're bouncing off the walls!
"I promised I wasn't going to read you ... so tell me ... I'm already fried in more ways than one! Now this Mayy-linn-da ... crap! ... I was going to face her ... but she wasn't supposed to see me like this! You were going to "fix me up?!" Ohh sure! What's left to fix up?! I really don't understand at all.
Christine stands and moves to face me. I notice that at least where she sat ... the impression left is dry. Only my obvious failing glares back at me ... and it can't be missed by anyone else! As I stare at the wet spot Christine starts to talk out loud to me. "Cept after the first couple of words I know it sure ain't Christina that's gonna pierce my ears!
"I understand why you do not think it funny, and your tears, the many you have shed, in horror and frustration are not in vain; and as for her not looking the same, you have much to learn about make-up!"
She comes to face up to me ... eye to eye ... well almost ... two inches means a lot to a guy.
In surprise I mouth the word "YOU!"
"My sweet and beautiful Astyanax, Christopher/Elias, and here I shall add Joachem. No one ever said you did, I believe you. Tebwe. I did.
"Mikizw, the Eagle would not work within the paradigm. Neither would Piniksheezh, the bird, to fullfill the spoken prophesy; only one word, Deryn, as used by William, your Welsh father, would suffice. The double entendre was purposeful. On the other hand, as you have stated, my sweet, containing symmetry.
"For someone who has been as clever as you have, sometimes you cannot see the forest for the trees, or even through the thickets! Did you not promise with your spoken words that we would speak later? Always have you kept your promises and hold those who promise you to the same.
"Did I not promise, that regardless of the consequences that I would help one as you?
"It was but a day ago as you rested your head in my lap and nursed yourself. I was certain you recognized not only my caresses but also the way we had sat, by the fires in the longhouses during the cold winters or in the wigwams, many past summer evenings of long ago. Obviously not, for those too did she veil from your sight.
"With your head cradled in my lap, and as you wept in your sleep, I heard not only your screams of terror but also your wish for it all to cease, that you desperately desired a love and of dreams to come. Tebwe, my sweet, you speak as you sleep.
"When our common angel, Athena spoke the words, "...her silent prayers are heard" and "her entreaties shall soon become evident in a short time," not to be too sarcastic, nor too witty, but, as your Christine would say, and with but a days waking notice, this is as "...short a time" as it gets.
"Not only was She speaking of your Christina: my sweet, but also of the one who first willingly took the name of Aeron Deryn, and that of Krystal, who too championed your cause.
I use the word "championed" ... for it is taken to be someone, a supreme victor in a contest of sorts, entered into either by himself or as a member of a group. It may also be taken as a defender of something, of someone, or of another. Additionally, it is, or may be, a remarkable person of achievement or excellence: lastly, though not the least, a warrior, a knight, or a noble, who fought in behalf of a sovereign in other times.
Astyanax/Elias/Joachem/and Christopher, all one and the same: four interlocking hearts.
Aeron Deryn and Christina Athena both one and the same. The two, slightly larger, yet still interlocked hearts forever tethered to the other four. Always, from the day we became as one - have you been my brother, and I your sister. You becoming a part of me - as I became a part of you. For my sweets, I willingly and by design, became your ___ unborn ____ sister; Krystal, never the living one: as I once was. Cheerily, my sweet, thanks to you, shall I be again.
"Think Christopher. The hesitation, in your unbecoming description of "her" belies your understanding. My sweet, reflect on the word I have now used six times. Does it not fill the halting void in both your speech and what you felt but mere moments ago?
"As for the butterfly, permit the analogy. Think also of Aquila. How did you bring it to my attention on those many clear eves? Look about you. You have seen but do not understand, though the connection is evident, and crystal clear.
"Joachem, my brother, I too have watched over you. Did I not knowingly suffer the blow? Thereby becoming stillborn ... yet ultimately successful. Mother's hands, that caressed me as they did you, were helpless, and to no avail, would they erase the damage within; yet, so clearly revealed. Did I not soothe your days with my touch? However, most importantly, did I first not lead you to the one you adored: Thor?
-
Even the keeper of the aviary recognized the bond to one another. My sweet, the tears you had cried for so many others, truly, then as now, needed to be your own. Think of Aquila. "There in shall hold the key."
Lastly my brother, the additional years which were yours, beyond all others, were freely mine to give; and did so. Why would I? Look to your carousel for by your own hand, it glares at you.
Christopher, my sweet, as we both know, this "game," ludus duodecim scriptorium, required the sacrificing of players to achieve an end: victory. It was only until the last contest did you willingly entertain that thought, for the souls, of those, you had been, were the treasured players at risk upon the board game; not mere, idle objects. Each one was priceless and dear to you.
My little wanderer, you lacked but one more, a vital second "player:" to triumph. Despite your guile, you needed additional time: and before the dice were cast, you pleaded, "Please, but a "second" more.
Indeed, my prince, my little one, when you looked into his eyes, you took much from the one who cast you from the precipice. The very same who himself did hide within the giant horse he had created to lay waste to Troy.
Likewise, how crafty were your choice of words with Whom you played the game.
"A second more," I truly laugh at its double meaning: that used as a measure of time, or of one to take your place, a stand in if you will. You orchestrated "each step" even "down" to your birth; following that of your sister by "four" minutes and "twenty-three seconds," not twenty two. I, as Krystal, was the extra "second"required.
All else, contained symmetry. You were undeniably creative. Now, are you still as creative and insightful as you once were? You are now but a "hairs" difference."
She pauses ... and my sister Christine ... for a second ... well I know it's her 'cause she's mouth wide opened thunderstruck ... don't think she saw that coming. Aeron ... I mean Krystal ... my sister ... O.K. ... I give up ... why bother ... it's only a name!
Well whoever I'm gonna call her ... starts to talk again and just as quick the look of astonishment just melts away ... she smiles ... real nice at me and continues.
"But as we know, honesty is and always has been, your coin of choice. Again I must laugh." She looks directly at Mom, "Mother, the receipt of which my living sister spoke contained your maiden name: Julia Athena Aletheia, if you will, please give it to my brother"
Sure I'm puzzled ... O.K. more than that. But Mom's face looks almost amused. As I take the paper and start to read it ... Astyanax starts howling with laughter ... then almost as quick Elias and Joachem join him ... crap! ... I know it's nothing to laugh at ... and tell 'em so!
Aside and loudly: "This is no joke! ... or ... is it?
Astyanax puts his six sense in and tells me to repeat the part of the paradigm he's picked up on ... so I do ... but silently to myself ... well almost. As an afterthought he adds ... "Then will come wisdom, the veil of hazed ambiguity will be pierced, we are the reason She is here."
I grumble back loudly, "Why do you always have to talk so ... so ... formally?"
Only giggles are their collective reply.
I look at Mom. Then back to the receipt. Then back to Mom. I don't know whether to laugh or cry ... both will do.
I look down to the hardwood floor ... so does Mom ... my glaring liquid problem ... well ... what's left is now running down my legs and starting to puddle.
Out of the corner of my eye to the right I glance at the full-length mirror on the back of my closet door. The short shorts I'm wearing are all but soaked ... front and back. The inseams of the stockings look like they have deep pink pinstripes on 'em. 'Cept they're a lot wider. Only the butterfly on the right leg appears to be dry.
Lastly, I take a quick look up at my face ... actually, I'm kind-a pleasantly surprised. I thought Christine said this stuff wouldn't hold up to water ... and that we'd look like racoons. It dawns on me ... everything she used was waterproof! My head turns to my devious sister as I mutter to her "you dirty rotten crosser." Her impish smiles stares back as she chuckles to me ... "Long lasting. Can't wait to take you shopping!" I can just imagine what Melinda is thinking.
What the hell?! Why would I think or really care what Melinda is thinking? I try to casually turn and look back over my right shoulder ... and for some reason actually wanting to see her again. For the first time ever ... I stare at her from head on down. In my minds eye I capture every part of her ... but now I pay closer attention ... especially to her face.
Those within are silent and approving.
Of course ... her face doesn't look the same ... because now ... ever so slowly ... tears are making their way down across her smooth and unblemished cheecks. Falling from the unforgettable sky blue eye's I know so well. Obviously caused by my "unbecoming description of her."
No ... honestly ... it wasn't unbecoming ... it was indecent. I made a girl cry? Did I just think "unblemished?' Some "noble" I've turned out to be! Why would I think about how I can ever look at her again and not feel ashamed? Right now ... I don't care what I'm dressed in ... all I know is that I have to apologize for being such a dic-khead!
I laugh quietly. "Catharsis." I'd looked the word up ... the word does have symmetry. "It fits in more ways than one! Those within agree and the Gallery of the Gods ... nod their approval.
But where do I start first? To me ... for the moment ... it is obviously with "my" Mom.
It has been a while but I begin by using it as I should, "Mother ...
-
"...your name ... I mean your maiden name "Aletheia" ... is part of the paradigm.
"Your name doesn't only mean "truth" like in not telling lies. It means more, a whole lot more.
"The last name means someone or something that brings healing and ..." I turn my head away from her eyes 'cause now I'm really embarrassed ... "and ... and trust. I guess another but better word is sincere: like honest and truthful. And it means to uncover something that's been hidden and make it clear whatever the consequences ... it doesn't have to be connected to something that you see ..."
Oh crap! Aquila ... the complete legend! Is ... connected to something that you see" ... make-up! Joachem! ... the carousel ... your ... "sorry Mom ... it isn't a brain fart ... honest!" While at the very same moment, I think ... yes ... Christina may have been thunderstruck but to me there are not enough words to think of to describe it! Well maybe gob smacked will do for a start. Yea, I'm still crying ... but for a lot of reasons ...I continue to think to myself ... as I carry on.
"Sorry Mom ... so when you see it ... it is the "first act" of truth. I mean if you didn't see it to start with how would you find out or understand what you were looking for."
I turn from looking at Mother to Melinda while at the same time I consciously fill in the blank "in my halting speech" and right out loud state the word to her face. "Melinda. "Sweet." That's the word I didn't say. "If my face looked as "sweet" why would I want to hide it?" May I ask your forgiveness for being such a ... a ... brute?" Then whisper the remainder ... "How can I have been so blind?" Guess I really do have a lot to learn about make-up."
My fractured attention returns to Mom. "Mother how can I forget your words, "My God, what both of you have thought of me, I am at a loss, to explain the emptiness that consumes me." I don't have to be too insightful ... because that is really part of it ... the paradigm. "It is her shame the lesson he would learn."
"I understand everything. That's why you were so upset before. The other half ... "for only the truth will he speak, it is all he has known," is also factual. As for what I had thought of you, Mother, you were the only one that I truly wanted. I chose you because everything "fit,"to help me, the rest of us, "in more ways than one."
"Just a couple of minutes ago you said "even a mother "like me" can tell when her son goes up and down the stairs." When you said "like me" I thought you were putting yourself down. Again, just to make sure you know, when I met you the first time I wanted a mother just like you, and now more than ever still do. Tebwe, your name Aletheia is what I had searched for: and found. I understand and trust you.
Without hesitation, I again turn to Melinda. I close my eyes and let Christina do the looking. "Mom ... when Aeron ... my newest sister came upstairs she said "thanks" to Mrs. Agapp ... "for the calls." But ... Mrs. Agapp really didn't invite her ... here that is. In fact, the main reason Mrs. Agapp came with Melinda was to make sure that this wasn't all a set up. Oh ... sorry Mrs. Agapp ... you missed this part ... you were too busy talking on the phone to my new sister ... Aeron. Anyhow ... if my sister Christine touches someone or anyone else touches her, now I even get to know what they'd all been thinking about ... I mean it's like being inside their head without them knowing it's happening.
I turn to my sister ... my loving imp ... but still keep my eyes closed. "Christine, this is really important ... please just stand by Melinda. Please ... its not you I want to read but Melinda ... the picture girl in my dreams."
My head twists to my dream girl, "Melinda I'm telling you the truth and you've got to know. Truth is, I've had some pretty bad nightmares, ever since I can remember; and for me, that's a long, long time. Before each one started, and after each one ended, yours was the face that stared at me: always the same, never changing.
"You can see my eyes are closed and my head is now turned away. There are two reasons. The first, is that I'm really ashamed of how I spoke to you. I really don't think I can look at you and not feel even more terribly ashamed than I do now. So for right now this is a lot easier for me.
"Secondly, I know every thing about your face there is to know. Where should I start? With your light blue eyes, the gently curled eyelashes or your soft eyebrows? I could go on about the patrician nose, an those thin lips, which form your Mona Lisa smile. Should I add the softly rounded chin, or perfectly balanced ears and naturally rosey cheeks or even you hair color? Even its style was as it is now.
"But I know it only from one line of sight, straight on, face to face, almost eye to eye. Do you know how frustrating it is never to be able to look behind a picture that never changes? I said your face didn't look the same. It doesn't. If I looked as sweet as you why would I hide it?
"Melinda, your freckles, all nineteen of them are covered with make-up. You have no idea of how many times I have counted them. I mean if your trying to not have horrible dreams why not concentrate on the one that isn't killing you! Besides, the freckles on your face mean something other than just the beauty marks that they are. They're a key to what is happening here, right now.
"I needed to see you. Really. I asked Christina to get you to come here. Mostly because if I walked with just you I didn't want to be mistaken for the way everyone had looked at me before. Like a girl. Guess you still can't tell the difference.
"But your Mom thought this was all a set up. Some bozo threatened you and she wanted to make sure that he wasn't using Christina as a pawn just to get at you.
"Mrs. Agapp, well that's really not your whole name, you had it shortened to accommodate the jewelry store you own in the mall: Agappi Jewelry. Thats how you come by those big diamond rings and really unique looking earrings. Oh, if it means anything, your late husband, Mr. Agappimenous, shortened it. Said Agappi meant more. "Lovely Jewelry." You just dropped the "I" as a matter of convenience. Your thoughts not mine.
"Christine, please, just let Melinda touch your shoulder. Wait, better yet, give her a note pad and pen. Melinda, write down only something you know and then, let your Mom read it over your shoulder, but don't let Christine read it. In fact, Christine, turn your back to me, then just let Melinda touch your shoulder. And to make doubly sure, have Melinda go into the hallway then she can write whatever it is in secret. Then all of you'll know I'm telling the truth."
My impish sister replies, "No problem-o" but again with a silly laugh adds, "My little one." I just shake my head a whisper, "Now I'm really never gonna live that nick name down." While Christine is getting the pen and pad from my desk Mom taps me on the shoulder and nicely asks, "Chris, please turn around and face me." Without consideration, I do so then open my eyes.
As she points down to the floor, she tenderly continues, "We're going to have to do something about that." Looking down I can't miss it. I'm still leaking like a sieve. Her right hand finds its way to my chin, then with her soft touch, she gently raises it to look at her. I see the first finger of her left hand pressing to her lips, as she shakes her head, "No," then with the same finger points to me.
Even with her affectionate attempt to soothe what she says: I dread her words, "We both know you needed to be changed before, I'm sorry, but now, it really can't wait any longer."
Ohh geez! I can't believe it. I close my eyes and moan. Moms fingers begin unbuttoning my blouse. I meant shirt. Crap! I'm going to be disgraced again. She softly eases it off my shoulders. Just great! Now everyone can see my bra! It's not bad enough that everyone knows I have a problem, I should be called "Eu-drip-ides. Its going to get worse if that's at all possible.
Mom reaches behind me and undoes my bra. I mean the one Christine gave me. Oh isn't this all so peachy keen! I thought at least when I had to face Dad, it be in private. Damn, now even my privates, whatever I have, are going public! Ha. Ha. Ha. Guess everyone is going to see my "little one."
With that last thought the short shorts are pulled away from my hips and eased down to the floor. As I step out of them, I'm, what's the word ... yea ... mortified! I don't want to even watch what gonna happen next! Good god, isn't this just so absolutely fantastic! ... Christine, the scamp, is transmitting the video feed fromwhere she's standing.
It does get worse, Melinda has returned from the hallway and has taken a spot in front of Christine. It's pretty obvious: not my sagging pullups, or the garter belt and these stupid stockings, no, what's obvious is that Melinda's trying to stiffle her laughter with one hand as she holds the pad with the other. I want to scream but what good would it do?
Melinda continues to look on as Mom now unfastens the stockings from the garter belt and ...
-
"... begins to roll them down my legs: first the right then the left. Each is neatly rolled down and find their way to rest about my ankles. From Christina's point of view, both look like dark pink fitted donuts. Christine giggles silently to me, "Stylish, but they'd look a lot better with some white lace and powder blue satin bows in the back!" What am I supposed to say? I just whimper my reply, "Yea right Christine, really stylish, lace and satin bows, just what I'd want."
Mother looks to her, and scowls as she shakes her head, additionally replying to the comeback that I've made to my sister, "Christina, please, now is not the time to tease your brother. This is going to be hard enough on him as it is."
Christine merrily chortles back, "Mom, I'd bet you the other half of my allowance that it sure will be "hard on" him!" Christine's quick glance around the room leaves no doubt as to what everyone else thinks. The only face I can't see is Melinda's.
I consider trying to parry her comment with one of my own; but remain silent and think to myself, "Guess I'll just have to grin and bare it."
To her left, Mother bends to reach for the towel that just minutes ago muffled my screams and thankfully lifts it for me to take. As soon as it touches my hand, I bury my face in it, and while I do not cry out, there is no doubt as to what else I am doing. My muffled sobs and gasping for air; are both synchronized to the visible writhing of my back and spastic motions of my shoulders.
Without a prompt I lift my right foot to allow Mom to remove the perceived incomplete confection. Mom tosses it into the bathroom. Likewise, the left one quickly follows suit.
Mother hesitates to reach for the garter belt. For but a moment I ease the towel from my face and both painfully, pleadingly, whisper, "Mom, don't wait, just get this over with, please." At least for this part Christine does take some sympathy on me and closes her eyes. At last, I'm in the dark.
Not a moment later, and as gently as she can manage, with but a slight tug, Mom removes the garter belt. From the sound of it, off to my right, I imagine that it too has found the way to the bathroom floor. I am almost envious; I wish I could curl up and hide there as well.
What was expected to follow - does not. I realize that again, Mother has faltered. Instead of removing the pull-ups, she now pulls me close, pauses, then hugs me even closer to her chest.
This is like being thrown off a cliff and only I can end the agony of waiting. I know what will happen. I whisper, "Now."
Mother's soft embrace markedly changes to one of firmness and determination. No longer do her arms hold me close. Now with resolve the loving cuddle has been altered. Both hands move to my shoulders; becoming confident and resolute.
Only two within snigger to my thought: This is "deja vu all over again." Then fall silent, embarrassed at their musing, the third, conspicuously stilled.
Mother pushes me away from her and softly emplores, "Be brave."
I whisper my response, "Astyanax, help me."
Now, with firmer grasp, she pushes me away from her. For as her hands move down to my waist, and begin to tear away the object of my disgrace, I once again can feel the coolness in the air as it rushes past my falling form.
I ease the towel from my face and turn my head into the cool breeze, as it too falls, from the air conditioning vent: Astyanax and Christopher: one and the same.
Before only half the garment is torn and pulled from my waist, Mother's sudden gasp and voicing "Dear God in Heaven," is clearly heard: by all. Even quicker than torn away; she presses it to my waist again. A soft tug on the towel coupled with her request to me, "Chris, let go of the towel, please," leaves me both startled and bewildered.
I trust her, but why would she ask me that? The tug gently turns to pull. I let go. Now, as I cover my eyes with both hands I feel the towel being wrapped around my waist. Only when completed, and from under the towel does she tear away the remainder. I cannot help but think that there is more involved than my modesty.
Slowly and with fear I open my eyes to look at Julie Athena Aletheia; my Mother, and ask with apprehension the question I fear the answer to, "Nu er fyrir?" Mother does not reply. Only her eyes move to look into mine.
-
Without a smile, she bends close to me and in my ear whispers her reply, which shocks me, "Would you have me lie to you? If so, then ask the question again. What you have been will come to an end."
Stunned and dazed I can only shake my head, "No," as my body begins to shiver. I'd never remembered having the cold sweats, crap, I didn't even know you could have any such thing. But right now I don't know what's worse: my uncontrolled crying and sweating, or the bone chllling sensation that the dirt nap is coming to soon for me again.
With little fanfare, Mother points to Dad and speaks tersely, "Eric, I need to speak with you in private; our bedroom, now." Then it seems before she has taken a breath she just as forcefully tells me, but for all to hear, "Chris sit on your bed, do not talk to anyone and do not move from it. Do you understand me?" The last four words were not what I'd call a gentle ending to a rhetorical question. No, it was morelike a severe end to a scolding, but with an unstated yet underlying importance attached.
Nodding my consent, I sit as directed, while tittering to myself, how "formal" both my thoughts and speech are becoming. As Mom walks to the Arch, I notice that she's hiding "it," the pull-up, under her smock. I hastily glimpse Melinda as well. Once again, her now flushed face is not what I expected. She quickly turns away; deliberately avoiding eye contact with me, and goes out of her way to avoid any physical contact with Christina. Once more she hides behind her mother, while my parents take their leave of the stage.
Christine's eyes follow their joint exit, and knowingly, she breaks the awkward silence, "Chris? I know Mom told you not to talk to anyone, but, I'm sorry I teased you. But are you O.K? I mean, well I didn't really mean to be mean. Damn it! I don't want to play games with words now! Chris, what'd Mom whisper to you? We both know it's not what I said, but you look like you've just lost your best friend!"
I refuse to reply but think, "Am I that noticeable?" I look to my closet mirror once again and take a closer look at my reflection, especially my face; the answer is evident: of course, I am. My lower pink lip and jaw are moving to their own tempo and I have no control of either. Both of my legs are so close that even ankles and knees are touching one another, while both of my hands are white knuckled clutching the top of my knees. As I noticeably rock back and forth, even the bows left in my hair, smile back at me. In resignation I sigh silently, "Great, my very own hood ornaments."
I do what comes naturally; I ball my fists, bring them to my reddened face, and cover my eyes, as a little girl would. I contemptuously entitle myself with the name I have dreaded and which has been so clearly avoided in my description by all, including myself.
Consciously, apprehension strikes me: I am shattered. As always, the same feeling crawls over me as it did on every one of those, all too, "shined on - special occasions." "Special occasions," what a joke, why even think about birthdays? No, not only no but hell no, no more birthday parties here, they're for the living, not the walking dead. Anyway, who wants to live forever, especially a ... a "sissy."
Mother's voice, "Christopher..." announces her return, breaking my self-absorbed mocking and descent into my own personal purgatory. Silently I ridicule the three within, "Purgatory," ... see; even I can use the right word every now and then."
The expression on Mom and Dads faces just about tells it all, both have been crying, and as Dad moves to resume his position, Melinda cautiously looks around Brisa's shoulder to me. All too clearly, I understand the reason for another apparent difference in her face, she was crying too.
Mother continues, "... you are due an answer, in fact, several. I will not lie to you and neither will your Father. While we both feel, that there are still some unresolved matters for you to explain about your "creativity;" that the time has come to answer your first question, which I have painstakingly avoided.
"Chris, my sweet child, you have repeatedly asked did I stop loving you because of what you wore. My answer was, "No, I have never stopped loving you." You asked for one good reason. My reply in turn was "I cannot give you one good reason but I can give you three." I asked for your trust and understanding. You have declared both.
"Furthermore, as you insightfully gathered, I could have used the knowledge of Astyanax, Elias and Joachem, as one of convenience; thereby sloughing your question. However, as we both know, as would everyone else, it would be a lie.
"If it pleases you, I will give you the three reasons, and please, understand that after you have heard; still, the matter of trust remains, between you and I and one significant other who is present. And please, try to put yourself at ease. I promise it is not what you fear.
-
With the last word barely spoken, I look down to what Mother holds in her right hand. My grimace is self-explanatory to her, Dad and Christine. I'm all to familiar with it. Seen it before, every time we went to the beach; or when we had finished swimming in our pool. Hell, I even had to wear it a couple of times, whenever I had to strip down after doing laps and had forgotten my towel; it was either that or go naked up to my room. But to wear it now?
I once again loose myself. At least I'd hoped that ...
I never get to finish my unvoiced regret as Mother continues, speaking to me first then just as quick turning to address my sister.
"Chris, sweetheart, please stand in place and for heaven's sake take your hands from your face and lower them to your sides. Then when I ask you, raise them. If you desire you may close your eyes until I am done.
"Christina, I took the liberty of going into your closet and taking your beach cover-up from it. Considering the circ-umstances, I know you won't mind, but your brother needs something more suitable than the bath towel he is wearing; and please, I know it's tempting, but do try not to humor yourself at his expense; it will be hard enough ... I'm terribly sorry Christopher, a dreadfully poor choice of words ... I should have said that it will be difficult enough for him as it is. This is not for him to see or vicariously experience through you, so either turn your pretty head away or keep your eyes closed as well."
That's what she said she said and that's most all of what I heard. But really, mostly what all I hear is what "inside my skull I sssssscream:" to me. "I won't stick around much longer!" That's what I told her ... but that was only if the "Promise" wasn't kept ... I mean if there were only gonna be two. But now, I'm gonna, going, of the hell with it, and the hell with "formal!" Only my thoughts of Joachem and Krystal are running through my head. Going, going, I'm gonna be gone!
I silently keep repeating her words over and over again and hope for the best, "I promise it is not what you fear." While at the same time, brood over her last word. "Fear."
"Fear," what, do I have to fear? On the other hand, what do I fear the most: waking up dead? Being always stressed out enough to have to wear pull-ups or diapers - who am I kidding - hell - now it even happens when I laugh, no, not really a choice there, is there?
So, what else ... always looking for a girl but never really finding one, 'cept the one staring back at me in a mirror.
What'd she say ... "This experience is not for him to see, so either you and Chris, turn both your pretty heads away or keep your eyes closed." I know Christine is pretty but me? No ... no way. I don't want to see myself dresssed in a bright lavender scrunched back cover-up either, even if it does make me look like I might "fit in." But ... damn ... I did look pretty in the mirror ... I can't say that about myself, can I? No. Why couldn't I just be handsome?
Aside and clearly spoken: "Beautiful?"
Silently thought by all: Oh, its just another word for handsome.
Aside and spoken clearly: "Just what I really wanted to hear!"
But ... what if I have to choose my biggest and most favorite fear ... hell ... don't know, can't say, if I knew it, then I'd say ... I just shake my head in utter bewilderment as I stare at the mirror into the vacuum of my eyes, and try to melt my way back into it. I've "got no secrets left to conceal," or do I?
As I shake my head, I groan, something is bopping either side of my neck, just under my ears. I just now realize that I'm still wearing the dangling clip on earrings; they haven't been taken off! Crap, how the hell did I look past them? Ohhh so wonderrr-full, ain't I gonna look so naturally cute! Just so peachy keen ... oh so ... so ... sweet!
I just close my eyes and whisper one word, "Shit."
Here I'd hoped Mom would just slip the dress like cover-up over me and well, move it down and into place before she took the bath towel off me. Sort of like what she did with the pull-ups. My hope is worthless, for just as soon as Christine begins to pan Melinda, Mother tells me, "Chris, please lift your hands so I can take the damp towel off."
Did she say damp or damn? I want to scream at her, "Make up my mind for me already! Lower my hands - raise my hands - how 'bout we just forget the whole damned thing!" I try to head her off, but before I can say a word, the towel is gone!
All I can do is just stand there, in my "birthday suit."
I don't know whether I'm laughing or crying the most, but for some reason all that's running through my mind now is whether I should sing, on stage, and before a "live" audience, and give a shot at my best Marily Monroe imitation. After all isn't this, or any other birthday suit, especially mine, for a really "shined on special occasion?"
Go figure ... I've somehow developed a sense of humore ... even if it is dark! I mean if your gonna be shot, flip the squad off with a grinning wide eyed f'u sneer! Of course in the end nothings gonna stop you from still getting the shaft but at least you'd never cry out or shed a tear.
With the last word of my silent thought, I lowly mumur, "Happy ... birthday ... to me. Happy ... birthday ... to me. ... Happy birthday ... dear ... whatever my name is to be ... happy birthday to me ..." I close with "Yea, sure ... right!" In the meantime, Christine having taken Mothers first offering turns to stare only at Melinda.
With her steady focus, the image of Melinda is inescapable as are her all too observable reactions; the lifting of her right hand to cover the mouthing of but one word; her eyebrows arching up and those haunting eyes, opening wide in suprise, or is it amusement? I can even read her lips as they say the one word, "Perfect!" Guess she's getting to see my "little one" at last! It's either that or my not worth a crap attempt at mimicking the dead blond beauty. I mull over maybe that's something we do have in common; but which is it, dead or beautiful?
The same moment I see her mouth the one word I hear the towel Mother's stripped off of me hit the outside of the bathroom wall. I can't help but laugh nervously while exclaiming "Terrible aim Mom!" Mother begins to drape the cover-up down and over my head to my shoulders.
As the wrap clears my pudding headed skull Mother whispers to me, "Sweetheart, please raise your hands again, but higher." Without shilly-shallying I do so and instinctively thread my arms through the proper openings while at the same time I reflect on how many of those within will now want to desert a sinking ship!
I'm in the neighborhood of panic and laugh uneasily out loud for all to hear as Mother fits the wrap down past my hips to where it falls and comes to rest much as where the bottom of the legs of the short-shorts had been. This ain't gonna hide much! 'Course not much to hide there anyway!
I can't help it, so I blurt out to my sister, "You know Christine, you said you'd be mental if you had to go through what I did. Got news for you .. I'm nearly there: round the bend, off my trolley, bonkers, bananas, nuts, barmy, mad, off the edge, schnitzeled ... no ... none of those fits quite right. Oh ... I left out insane ... but that ain't right either."
I mordantly mock myself loudly, "None of them has the "symmetry" in the word you or all of you must be looking at me for."
"You may be right, I may be crazy, but it just may be a ......." I trail off and just mutter the words ... "lunatic .... for all I know ... maybe ... wrong ... you may be ....." My broken encore is met with silence.
Acknowledgments: Back Pages, Bob Dylan, Like A Rolling Stone, Bob Dylan & You May Be Right, Billy Joel
-
I know Christine wants to look at the spectacle 'cause the panning shifts but stops just as it passes Dad, then slowly, returns to focus on his face. He's just shaking his head and crying too. His eyes look to my sister as he shakes his head,"No." Thankfully, she dims the lights and turns the camera feed off, but I can't help but know what she's feeling for me: pity.
And as for Aeron and Mrs. Agapp, truthfully, right now, I don't give a flying fart what they feel.
I think ... a flying fart ... now that would be something to air out!
Flying ... no ... don't think so ... falling ... yea ... that works. "Cause all I feel now is that I'm getting dizzy and I don't think I can stand up much longer.
I feel Mother's arms circle around my shoulders as she pulls me close to her. Right now, all I know is that I've hit rock bottom, as I sob on her shoulder; and that I've never ever felt so bad. What was that about not crying out or shedding a tear; I ridicule the thought that all those were my "back pages." But I was -- much older .... I'm younger .... then that ...."
Mother has managed to ease us both onto my bed and for some time she just holds me close and rocks me back and forth in her arms. All I really know is that I'm exhausted and my halting soft sobs are in turn being met with the gentle caresses of her soft fingers as they make their way through my hair; interrupted only by affectionate kisses to my forehead or of her equally soft touches to my bows which still have not fallen from my curls. The only other thing I am aware of is the gentle breeze, which still falls as I did, from the air-conditioning vent, as it too moves to cool and bathe me.
I hear Mother's soft voice and it is as it was when she spoke to Joachem. It is as loving as I remember it to be. Only now it is my name which she whispers. As my eyes flutter to open, I try to focus only on her smiling face, and suddenly realize that all within are silent and reassuring; no one has left and I am not alone.
She begins by shaking her head and whispring, "No. It is not what you fear. The pen's well has not run dry, all are safe, as are you. The words I spoke but mere minutes ago "What you have been will come to an end," were not meant to trouble or distress: yet, they are true in many ways. However, I must admit, your performance of "happy birthday" may have been appropriate if not innocently insightful.
"Yet, before those veiled words of ambiguity become evident, I had promised you "three reasons." Christopher, I owe you three reasons and so much more. Permit me to begin.
"First my precious son, I love you ...
-
"... as well as those you have been; the three within you now are sauce for the goose. As you, I could no more choose one over the other; for if I did, my child, I would condemn a part of you; thereby losing all entrusted to me. You chose me to succeed where all others had failed. How can I not love one who offered a priceless trust such as that, so carefully considered, and even more so, with such selfless pleasure given.
"I completed the unfinished word you reconsidered speaking and while doing so understood that I knew little of its true meaning. Lifetimes, are spent and indeed wasted searching for true love: but a child, who tendered it, uncalled for, joyously found me. It became my honor to champion you as well. I have never stopped loving you.
"Second, my young prince, the "Nobility of Purpose" which had consumed you was also mine: to succeed in your behalf. To be honest I feared not only for you and the others but also for myself as well for if I failed, I would be eternally shattered.
"The shadows portend was unerringly accurate. To insure success, the end justified the means; forgive me, for here I will not play with words, but to be "mean" to you was the most horrible thing I have had to do. My little one, when you said, "I promise, you have nothing to fear, especially from me." You spoke the truth. The fear was mine, that I would fail your trust. How could I allow you to fail, especially if the direction of your quest was turned astray, by the softer touch of satin or of lace, even but for a brief moment? Truthfully, at times, it was not only distateful but also personally repulsive. Again, I never stopped loving you for if I did all would have been lost to us both, forever.
"Third, my heroic wanderer, I love you for allowing me to fulfill my dearest and most secret expectations, which as a girl, I had held for myself: both in marriage and as a mother to be. From the moment he spoke to me in "The Mecca," I was dumbstruck.
"I judge you Julie Athena. My fear is not you as a girl. My fear is that as a woman you may fail; and thereby lose the souls of the innocents to whom are entrusted to you. And yes Julia, I am on the verge of tears, for if I judge wrongly it would be most terrible. I judge you Julie Athena. The gateway to one's soul is through their eyes, and I have judged. On this, He and I are in harmony. For the moment, I am to you Mathew Daniel. Pray you never know me as the latter." Those were his contemplated thoughts.
"Christopher, every day since then I have repeated every word and everyday I love you more because of them. I love you more than ever for not only are you the dream of every mothers longing but also the incarnate realization of my dearest and most secret expectations of myself as a mother to be. My gallant little one, his name even today makes me quake: Mathew Daniel, through his own definition, meaning - God's gifted judgment. Because of you, was I judged and found to be: worthy.
"Shall I stop at three reasons or shall I continue?" Mother shakes her head side to side then gently presses the first finger of her right hand to my still quivering lips and continues, "No, no need to answer, for that is truly a rhetorical question."
For a brief moment Mother, looks puzzled then, grins broadly; in fact you could describe it as dazed understanding. "You rascal, indeed, you are a mischief maker. It has just struck me, that when I first reached for the pen, with my left hand, and then quickly withdrew from its touch, the shadow softly laughed and spoke the words, "Second thoughts?" It was a play on words: YOUR WORDS!
"Yet only moments ago, you questioned me, "Did she ever tell you why she laughed for even thinking what you did?" You were referring to the game of chance: ludus duodecim scriptorium. Now, it is all to clear: It was ... you again!
"My God in Heaven, the shadow herself, she knew: as did Mathew Daniel, who was in harmony with ... Him? Both knew! Your ... guardian angel Athena ... she knew as well! They all knew! All except for ... me?
"Her words, "Each has special endowments. Distinctive to but one, yet, that the other is not only aware of but willing to insure with silence that it even exists. You are the one, the "Primality of One," and while it is true, that it is a mathematical term, one may take its meaning as representing the most significant and primal instinct for survival: yet another second meaning.
"Your sister, your closest and ever-silent confidant, always more than willing to know your fears but also of her own accord ceased swaying you into playing dress up. But ... but it was I ... who forced her decision by ... by ... my cruel actions ... towards you. Was it not?
Mother pauses once more. Now with a more serious gaze towards me.
"A moment please, for even that, I must re-examine. All within the paradigm needed to mesh, all were interlocking points; and if but one failed the paradigm itself would be worthless. It is almost as if you knew what was to happen before it occurred!
"From beginning to end, meticulously scripted, masterfully orchestrated, plotted, directed and genuinely creative.
"Each part of, of what I have spoken are ... as ... if ... upon a stage ... or ... within a ... play. Almost all, with but few exceptions, as if written by your own hand! But how the ..."
With Mother's sudden insight, I can only mimic the smile of my impish sister back at her. As she gently lifts me to my feet, I begin my reply to her thoughts, while at the same time smooth the cover-up softly down and away; from its gathering point to but inches just below my hips. I am not ashamed of what I had to do but somewhat embarrassed at my realization to the fact, that I do have more secrets to reveal; and as I stand and look only into her eyes, both of my hands have found their way to the cover-ups hem line.
Christine has resumed transmission. My pictured form is that of a little girl as viewed from the rear. I silently giggle that it too, my rear, from head to toes, is too damned girlish looking for my own liking. Once more, the image made, is that without further investigation I am a carbon copy of my sister. I notice also that the hem of the cover-up has fallen neatly into place of my hands. It is neither to short nor too long; it "fits in" as nearly as can be, to my curled fingers, which now begin to feel the fabric between my first fingers and thumbs; and as I do, it strikes me that an inner lining of satin has been added to the hem. It is hidden from view, but quite discernable, to contact. To myself, I admit, I love its touch. I struggle not to do the obvious. My left thumb remains at my side and does not find its way to my lips.
-
Mother's eyes quickly dart to the hem of "my" cover-up. A brief but knowing smile crosses her lips as she simply nods to me. My intent was to reply, quickly and as straightforward, as possible. Yet, I cannot help but return her smile with a demure and rather bashful grin of my own before doing so. However, my response is delayed, for several seconds I am lost in the softness of satin to my touch as well as the image of the finely laced jersey as once worn by Elias. I muse that his hopeful longing shall soon become mine as well. For the very first time I can ever remember there is no worry within myself, or the others.
With a startled awareness of my daydream, I almost gasp an apology for my mental lapse. Yet before I can do so, Mother's insight leaves little to my imagination or now to anyone else in my room. "Lost in the softness of satin, I thought as much."
With as much composure I can manage, I begin my reply.
"Sorry, I did not expect to ... well ... under the hem ... it was the last thing I expected. But ... but it truly felt ... you know ..." Her reply of "Yes I do," at least for the moment gets me off the hook. Once more, I reflect on the analogy to fish!
"Mom, I mean Mother, may I complete your unfinished sentence, "How the hell..?" Moreover, here I would add to your thought, "...did you do this?" Beyond a doubt, I need to explain"
Barely able to contain her glee she nods replying, "Indeed you do."
"Mother, please permit me, that for some reason I, for the most part, feel myself becoming strangely "Formal?" Something seems quite odd. Both my speech and the manner in which I am now dressed, neither are as unsettling as I presumed them to be: unpleasant or distressful. And for the moment, I do not fully understand why. Again, I must say I am sorry, but questions remain for me to resolve which I do not fully understand."
As I had barely spoken the last of my words, her face changed quickly from that of amusement, to one reflecting purposeful consideration. She did not interrupt me.
"To first answer your inquiry of "How the hell did you do this," I must bring into play Joachems own words.
"To understand fully, "How?" and still answer your question truthfully I must burden you with the following. Mother, the paradigm exists on three level: all at the same moment.
"It has been said that, "Time is but a place." It stands alone for but a brief instant, independent of all else but for a fracton of the moment where it meets space, but none-the-less immeasurably interlocked to events leading to it: the past. Yet, upon occurrence, it becomes the thread of what is past; thereby becoming forever interlocked and never to be changed; at least not in this dimension, or if you will within this plane of existence. All three are interlocked: past becoming present, and present waiting for but the touch of the future, to move once again to become past. Der zyklus ist ununterbrochen. (The cycle is continuous.)
"Within the paradigm there are three levels. The first level, the macro, can be simply termed as "metaphysics;" concerning itself with the study of the nature of being and beings, existence, time space and causality; in essence, everything that happens must have a cause. The second level, the epistemological, studies the natural history of knowledge as well as its validity, if you will: truth. Ethics, the third level, is that by which we live our daily lives.
"The metaphysical is responsible for the principal behind the paradigm: "Wahrnehmung." It relates the limited to the unlimited. Mother, it is from this, which we would form the golden ethical rule, "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." To reach the understanding of oneself, or "Verstehen," true belief is necessary. Here do we form our ethical norms, as in the sacredness of life, even the conception of freedom. It is only then, that we attempt to form the world in which we live; by attmpting to "structure reality" with our codes of conduct. For example, "true and correct behaviour." Doing the right thing is what is termed "Praxis." Mutter, haben Sie immer die rechte Sache getan. (Mother, you have always done the right thing. )
"Each cycle of life, which we have been, is not isolated. Each lifetime elevates us to a greater awareness and understanding. Each built upon the other, never forgotten. Without start and without ending, each flows from one to the other. Elias spoke of "Nobilis." Truthfully, for us all it is so.
"Unser "Adel des Zwejes" wie Ihr abstammt dieses ist. (Our ""Nobility of Purpose" as is yours stems from this. )
"Mother, the carousel, which you presented me, is significant, it flows continuously when keyed: round and round. Having no real beginning, and no discernable end; akin to birth, when keyed, death upon the springs failing and rebirth when once again keyed. The starting and stopping point is but a mere visual point of reference to those who view it: in present time. My notch upon the rump of Walkeria was mine.
"But it also bears the realization, which struck me as a child. Last names are but a mere and all to recent contrivance of society. I refused to etch my last name to it; considering that only, my first and middle names were of importance or consequence. The first names of the previous two whom I dreamed of were Astyanax and Elias. Each had a middle name, as did I. Mother, our common middle name was: Hector. The only name denied me, as well as Elias, was of a girl who at the beginning of each nightmare and the end of each would come to face us: the very same which stands before us now. Guter nachmittag frauline. Ihr gesicht ist so sub, wie ich mich erinnere. (Good afternoon frauline. Your face is as sweet as I remember.)
"The extra time given by Krystal was necessary for me to formulate my thoughts. Die vier vonuns warden zu ihr verbunden. (The four of us are obliged to her.)
"There are but two other items, which must be reconciled. The first concerns the puzzlement of my living brother: specifically, his quandry as to my delight with Thor's feather. Mother, the eagle has been the symbolic emblem of many kings and their realms; the personal companion and servant to various gods and goddesses; and representative even today of many religions as well. It is the noblest of birds, unquestioned ruler of the sky, fearless and without peer in battle.
"Bemutten Sie den einzigen Adler, den ich war geschwartze verachette, das nach dem verdrechten Kruz gehockt wurde, vorstzlich so getan in einer shameful Spotterei der warheit, des valor und der Ehre. (Mother the only eagle I despised was the blackend one, which was perched upon the twisted cross; purposely done so in a shameful mockery of truth, valor and honor.) Anstell von der wahrheit gab es Lugen. (Instead of truth, there were lies.) Stattdessn vom valor, gab es massencowardness. (Instead of valor, there was mass cowardness.)
Anstell von der Ehre gab es nur Schmach: atimos olous - alle warren unehrenhaft. (Instead of honor, there was only dishonor: atimos olous - (all were dishonorable.) Das lebende, das ich verehrte. (The living one I adored.) Das andere, das ich verabschuete. (The other I loathed.) Es war meine Ehre, zum zu beruhren, was ich wuBte, un truthful und koniglich zu sein. (It was my honor to touch what I knew to be truthful and regal.)
"I understood the "Legend of the Eagle" all too well; for each time I peered into his eyes, and his into mine, I was told that once more I would find him: led again by a shadow; and, as Elias, I would leave this world and that he would take me with him: home.
"Permit me one further thought. Aside from the joining of the three pens, there is but one voice left to present himself, to complete the paradigm. Before I take my leave, on this I will speak for Astyanax and Elias as well. Mutter frohlich erwarten wir Ihr umfassen und Lullabies. (Mother, joyously, we await your embraces and lullabies.)
For several silent and halting moments, I could only reflect on what Joachem had just spoken of to Mother. I understood his delight in but the touch of a feather. It was now my honor as well.
Tranquil, I had never used this word before to describe what I felt. For the moment, I allowed myself to do so. With Joachems declarations, my past actions as well as those which I would take now, or in the future, appear as both necessary and logical. Realizing that the stage was still mine, I continued.
"Mother, the game, which I promised to Athena, to never play in reverse, to meet my "living" self, is still played, moreover, there was no promise or vow not to move the hands forward."
I pivot to look straight at Christina, while I continue and try to become somewhat less formal.
"I concentrated on little else except to perfect the script, in which I was involved. And Christina, I understand that you are now physically older than I, but it was my choice which allowed you to be so. Besides, I know that I'm a whole lot older than you are, I just never had a chance to grow up and do anything else about it. So please, stop calling me "little one." I know you said it was a term of endearment but you already broke your promise to me about using it in front of anyone else except family. Besides, I'm not that little, am I?" I quickly add, "No, don't answer that! You'd only make another joke about me where ... where ... just forget about it .. O.K?"
Her giggling of, "Whatever," is her single reply. I continue.
"And as for your being a grade ahead of me because of the tests we took: I was not daydreaming when I took them. I don't have to be in the dark or asleep when I play it! I was too busy looking at you, and thinking about Mom and Dad and trying to get all of this just right. I didn't want to be bothered about answering some mundane questions, which I already knew the answer to, or even had lived through, and were being presented to me as accurate while in fact the answers sought were mere warped fabrications!" With my last word I turn once again to face Mom.
"Mother, I'm sorry, the last word I spoke to Christina also has a double meaning. You could not make a choice on insinuations, half-truths or lies. For me, that is all so true.
"The extra second spoken of, was for you, most specifically your decision, which I considered necessary to be unforced and willfully given. You needed to understand truthfully the whys and wherefores before you decided. If you had decided otherwise, I was prepared to accept the consequences. Your halting touch of the pen with your left hand aforded me the opportunity; I needed to make certain it was: right. I must apologize for making you feel so terrible. However, I had promised myself to be unyielding and determined to help you succeed where others had failed. To insure success I could not do otherwise and as I said before, you played the part well. I truly believed you. Yet you give me too much credit, honestly, I scripted little else.
"I frankly knew nothing about Brisa or my new sister, Aeron, or of the picture girl; I mean Melinda. After all, it was only yesterday that I found out her name. The image of her face was always pictured in my mind. I honestly thought she was haunting only me. None of the others told me of her. Honestly, I feared to look at her, but for some reason felt compelled to do so."
Once more I turn, this time to face the object of my stilled haunt.
"Melinda, ...
-
"...again I must apologize to you. I was truly crude. Not only in my use of your name, but also in my attempt to explain my frustration with you, I'm sorry, I meant, your pictured image. That you are a key to all of this I am certain; especially so, where your beauty marks are concerned. I made a faltering analogy, of you to Aquila, who was not only the messenger of Zeus and carried out his will to find the most beautiful youth in the land, Ganymede, to become cupbearer to the gods, but it was he who also carried Zeus' thunderbolts into battle with the Titans. I did not intend to imply ... I mean ... that your beauty marks ... were ... of the same image.
"You heard my Algonquin sister task me: "Am I still as creative and insightful as I was before?" Melinda, your beauty marks, if one may make an analogy, is as a constellation, similar to which I pointed out to Aeron in the night's sky. The constellation of Aquila is adjacent with that of Aquarius, or Ganymede, if you will, and the most obvious way to make it evident, was to connect the dots of light; as within the game. Please do not misunderstand me. Again, your beauty marks, all of them are not ... not ... no ... they are not Aquila: the Eagle."
My all to brief moment of tranquility begins to leave. In its place, anxiety, the nervousness of awareness begins to replace it.
"Aeron said, "Look about you. You have seen but do not understand, the connection is evident, and crystal clear." Only on the clear nights or equally clear morns could the constellation be seen: wenn Sie Werden ... Verdammen Sie es zur Holle! Mein Gott! ... freie Kristallnichte! Krystal?
Buchstabiert mit einen afangenbrief von "K" - seine Bedeutung ist die selbe, als ob buchstabiert mit einen "C" Leuchtend und frei ein adderes spiel auf wortern! Es tut mir leid zu allen besonders zu Ihnen junger Melinda aber meine stillborn Schwestern, die Name auch ein Schlussel zu den ganzen diesis un nur ist jetzt, mich anschlossen die Punkte hat. Ich bedeute mich, Christopher, nicht Joachem!
"CRAP! - oh sorry ... I couldn't help it. What I said was; "...if you will, Damn it to hell! My God! crystal clear nights! Krystal? Spelled with a beginning letter of "K" ... its meaning is the same as if spelled with a "C" ... brilliant and clear ... another play on words! I'm sorry to all, especially to you, young Melinda but my stillborn sisters name is also a key to all of this and only now have I connected the dots. I mean me, Christopher, as Joachem!
"Wirklich gibt est Bedeutung in der Nebeneinanderstellugg von Worten, ihre Bedeutung und gleichmaBig in ... in einen name. I mean, truly, there is significance in the juxtaposition of words, their meanings and even in ... in a name.
"Forgive my ... my broken thoughts. My living older sister, Aeron D. has keyed my memories! She said I, as Elias insisted, "... that, events yet to occur centered upon the meanings and intricacies in the usage of words, their juxtaposition, or in fact, of something as simple as a given name." She even said that both of us, Christine and I, "were indistinguishable" as foretold. That's exactly what Christine said just a couple of minutes ago. But ... but ... it's the same word I thought of only moments before as we sat together on my bed! Aeron said that I would comprehend shortly. She said, "I too think you are cute" Only Christina has told me that and that was just a couple of minutes ago too! Which ... which means I can do ... more. Even as we speak.
"Melinda! Look at what hangs from the Parascenium, I mean, look at the walls on either side of my bed. No! Look to ALL the walls! I am surrounded! Every glass encased specimen, I have painstakingly spotted with luminous paint in the same location with the same number of freckles to mimic those that are on your face!
"Mom, when you called her my "dream girl," I thought you were being sarcastic!"
"... it ... you ... all the ... all the time ... right in front of my ... face ... and ... and ... ohhh no! ... even if I woke up in the "dead of night," all would flutter with the blink of an eye; all would seem to come alive and waver, all were in front of my face! Even as Elias, when I walked through the meadow, they would surround me. They even took Christine for me ... as did you!
"When I looked in my own mirror just a couple of seconds ago, not only did I see my face starring back at me ... but also the mounted specimens of the opposite wall. Obviously, I could not see the forest for the trees, through the thickets, through your make up, or even through my never-ending dreams of your face, or ... or ... even ... even ... past my own reflections of a girl ... I was always ... looking for.
"Christine? Your clothes, most of those you bought are embossed with it, but some were hand stiched or ironed on. I asked you before, why did everything you or Mom had me wear have them on them. Even the short-shorts on ... the right leg ... not the left ... crap ... even that was a visual play unto itself. You knew! You both did!
"Melinda, if one were to connect the marks upon your face, the outlined image would not be that of the eagle, but; that of a ... a... please ... if you step closer you can clearly see what I have written upon the glass, below each mounted specimen. And ... and ... ohh jeeez ... only now do I fully understand what I have written beneath each ... Astyanax ... Elias ... Joachem ... all of you ... you ... you teased me!
"Indeed, you knew something that I did not! All of you laughed at me especially because of the words Astyanax suggested I write ... beneath each specimen. "Petalutha Mou." I know your mother Brisa understands what I have written. I would assume you do as well. Can it be true?
"It suddenly occured to me after considering Joachems words concerning his and Elias' visions of your face. They were not afraid to look. Again, if Joachem used the same word to describe your face as I, then ... a double meaning would be sweet. Forgive my witticism. I stated before, "why not concentrate on the one that isn't killing you."
"Sie ... toteten mich ... nicht? Sie toten mich nicht! You did not kill me! ScheiBe! ... You were not a horror, nicht, gerade das Entgegengesetzte! ... Just the opposite! Just the opposite! Joachem figured it out that at the beginning of each it was your ... sweet face ... at the end of each horror ... again it was your image ... I concentrated on ...if anything I would always try to break away; from my nightmares just to concentrate on your face ... not a horror ... just the opposite ... soothing .... or ... sweet.
"But ... but ... why would Astyanax have me write those specific words? Of all the words I could have used he wouldn't let me write anything but those two! "Trust me," that's what he said. "Just, trust me."
The wisp of a smile, which had just appeared on Melinda's face, now broadens as I continue.
"Melinda ... bitte ... tell me what your name means ... bitte? No! Don't! It is more that your given name, much more! I saw your one eyed glance when Mother spoke my previous names. As soon as she said "Astyanax" your interest became more observable and all within me laughed. To you his name was as a prompt; queing further interest." Silently I consider the obvious. There is a tie between the two! I continue.
"You know that just a couple of seconds before I asked you to write something down on the pad; a secret that only you could know about! If I were to bet, right now, it would be something that connects the two of you."
For the first time where I truly had expected the girl breaking my nightmares to speak, to say something, anything, no matter what it was, it would have been better than the silence, which replies. Her eyes have grown wider and her broad smile has changed to one of stunned incomprehension. As she hold her breathe, I press on.
"Melinda," ... as I think to myself, I'm actually saying this? ... "my sweet, have I become as insightful as Astyanax once remembered you to be? Christine, please, moments ago I asked for your assistance and you agreed. With but a touch of your hand, in a moment, please do so."
"Melinda, as puzzled as you appear to be, I am not. And as apprehensive as I feel you to be, again, I am not. Your face is, sweet, and unforgettable. Joachem's words once more provided me with yet a key piece of the puzzle. Only he and Elias were unaware of your name. His words, "The only name denied me and Elias was of a girl ..." By inference, Astyanax knew what the name was. It is the same face, which Astyanax envisioned upon his fall and the name tethered to it. His memory is mine!
"But we are here now. What has happened is thousands of years old. Where all others thought you mad it was only the truth you spoke. All the words you prophesied where to be considered lies, but every perceived lie told, was the truth. You were incapable of lying! A vain and childish god, whom you outwitted, cursed you. A black hearted mortal, servant of a dark lord, who I offended, cursed me."
Astyanax understands, and is now particularly, stilled. The other two muse to my awareness.
"Melinda, the one you once were, was there as well. She foretold, of the coming war, the fall of Troy and of the danger lurking within the giant horse created by ... Odysseus. She was considered mad! Her rants of prophesies went unheeded! That was the curse, that no prophesy spoken from her mouth would ever be believed. Through the halls of Troy she ran with hair flowing and arms flailing, all thought her a lunatic as she fluttered about, from rampart to rampart, wall to wall and by appearance with no direction screaming her prophesies of doom. For some reason, all but one: Astyanax. He alone believed her and affectionately coined an expression, which he silently spoke to himself every time he viewed her erratic motions: "Petalutha Mou." He believed you and he was right!"
I turn to my eldest living sister and speak. "Aeron, I'm sorry, sister, when you spoke minutes ago you said you had degrees in mythology, ancient cultures and such. Please tell Melinda the name of the person of who I am speaking and her position. Again I would bet that the link between Melinda and Astyanax is more than chance. In fact, I will write her middle name upon the palm of my hand. As you speak I will present my palm for her and Brisa to see and read, and, Christine, there will be no need to touch either; as I already know!"
The smile crossing Aerons face is one of satisfaction. The look on Mother's is that of wide-eyed wonderment. Melinda has become a statue, frozen as if Medusa herself had laid eyes upon her. Christine has not lost her smile, in fact, it could be taken as one of contentment or fulfillment. As for Ms. Agapp, well, stupefaction, might come close to describing it. Lastly, though not the least, Father, only shakes his head, side to side, as he begins to grin.
"Brisa ... Melinda ... understand what I say is historically corret. The one Christopher speaks of was known as ..."
It is here where I present the written name to be read by both, which matches the one which is spoken of, and which matches ... Melinda's middle name.
"...Cassandra. Astyanax the young son of Hector was but several years younger than Cassandra was. Melinda, Cassandra was a priestess."
Aeron pauses for several moments then continues.
"But, understand me well, she was no ordinary priestess, to the contrary, she was the high priestess in ... The Temple of Athena ... highest mortal servant to the goddess herself ... Athena Nike!"
I look to Mother as she shakes her head: side to side. Her slight motion pauses, as her left hand moves to cradle her chin ... thumb and first finger spread ... allowing her chin to rest firmly between the two. A smile slowly creeps then broadens across her face, then to my amazement , curtsies to the SRO at the Procenium Arch, then looks up and bows again. Astyanax says that's for the gallery of the gods. She curtsies last to both Christine and me. A soft but quite emphatic, "Yes!" is heard by all followed by a clenched fisted right hand which pumps as if she has scored a winning goal.
My eyes are drawn to Mother's curtsies and victory hail, distracted from all else as I hear her voice, distracted especially from Melinda's silent movement to take her mark closer than a hands touch from where I now stand. The first words I hear from her are ...
-
"...coupled with the touch of her hand upon my left shoulder. Her voice is truly natural and gentle to my ears. For some reason I just hope I won't get excited. That fleeting thought, only seems to ignite me and I hope it will not figuratively "chum the water."
Her hand slightly moves, slowly and ever so cautiously up the side of my neck and gently comes to rest upon my left cheek. Having turned into her light grasp, I realize that I have been lured in and played as well.
To look at her from every angle possible was what I had envisioned. This is not what I thought would occur; instead, it is she who has encircled me. I at last come face to face with her. I understand the look in her eyes. I am no longer the bait, I moan to myself, "I'm the main course!"
"Christopher? Or, speaking as Cassandra, should I address the others as well? Joachem, Elias and my beloved Astyanax; I don't want to speak, if it makes you feel sad about the things we've gone through. Your observations are correct, for right now, it is hurting me, though you claim, not you. Truly, as you've stated, it's all in our past and history. At one time, I had played every one of my cards. I am pleased that is what you have done as well. With various gods, both of us have, thrown the dice, though some had hearts; as salted ice, all to bitter and cold. In return, down here, upon this mortal plain, any loss is truly dear; but someone must pay. My sweet, horridly, you have learned that the winner will take all and consequently, the loser must fall.
"I have little left to say. Yet somewhere within, deep inside me, you have to know I still miss you. Am I to you, still, the words you thought and wrote? If you desire, it could be so.
"Obviously, I have been both specter and now a spectator in your show. Forever, be it night or day: a prop, highly visible yet generally having gone, unnoticed; that is, only up until now. For you the game is on again. However, my question to you is serious; shall I become a lover or a friend?
"I understand that in this time, if you merely wish to shake my hand, and walk away we can and will do so. If the latter choice is made I apologize if now, or later, if it will make you feel either bad or sad.
"Honestly, if that is the choice, I will be brokenhearted but that is to be expected. But what can I say, obligations must be obeyed, and to what end angels or God decide, I shall abide. For, as you have learned and now, you can clearly see, my little one, the winner takes it all.
"Please, consider, before you reply to my query; as there is more to speak of.
"The one I am now, Melinda, is also special. Only now does she understand that you will only speak the truth to her. Is that not so?"
All I can do is nod, shrug my shoulders and reply, "Yes. Why lie? A lie means you have to remember what isn't true, so if you make up something, like a lie, it's too much trouble trying to keep your story straight. Besides, eventually you'd be found out, so why bother. But, of course, to many, the truth is sometimes a matter of perception or convenience. To me, personally, it is a matter of honor."
Melinda merely nods, as if still in her mental haze, and continues, though I am uncertain if it is actually Cassandra or Melinda who now speaks. "How romantic, I am thoroughly flattered, that in your dreams, you would see my face and consider it being "sweet." No, I must apologize, for what little I have heard there were no sweet dreams. You stated, "Why not concentrate on the one that isn't killing... you." I can't begin to imagine how bad they must have been. Someday, hopefully soon, you must tell me. But, if only by contrast if it was my face, which soothed you, I am delighted.
"I must apologize in advance, but you did say that you were the "oldest twelve year old virgin that you're ever going to meet." In addition, as an afterthought claimed that you "had never been screwed, except, figuratively, of course." Which means that to this moment, you have long remained a ... virgin. Is that true?"
My ever-increasing reddened and wide mouthed stunned face to that question unthinkingly nods, "Yes."
My quick glance towards Christine meets with her wickedly gleeful words, "Maybe not for much longer! Oooops! Maybe, I should have said it sure will be "long" or definitely a "lot longer" if both of you have anything to do with "it!" I can honestly say by the looks of "It ..." as she points to the now growing tented portion of my, I mean her, cover-up, "... That it'll soon be hard for a whole lot longer on the both of you!"
Those within laugh and begin to wager as to my resolve.
Melinda's eyeing grin, to my sister's catty words and gesture, leaves little to my imagination and I presume to all others as well. I close my eyes and shake my head, wondering what else my sprite of a sister will hit me with; while at the same time ponder the saying "that two heads are better than one." I can't help but believe that the other has a mind of its own and is now thinking only for itself, considering, does it point to where I must follow?
She continues, and as she does, it is Melinda who has taken the stage, of that I am certain. "So you're ... only twelve, will only speak the truth, a virgin and ..." the last words are spoken with a giggle, "... in good standing I might add."
"Christopher, only minutes ago I was crying. You noticed, but do you really want to know why? I'll tell you why and don't interrupt by trying to answer ... that was just a rhetorical question.
"I couldn't help but feel how lost you felt standing infront of everyone dressed the way you were. I know Christine wanted to "Fix things up." By that I mean, to set the record straight, about the two of you. And, well, how shy and conflicted about meeting girls you were or unfortunately maybe still are.
"Chris, what is left, to fix up, is in my hands. You fretted over me being here and seeing you dressed like a girl. I wouldn't wreck your life over something like this. Trust me. Especially since I know that dressing up, at least this time, was truly Christine's idea, to prove her point." She mirthfully continues, "Well maybe you had a "point" of your own to make as well.
"But seriously, you wanted to meet me face to face even after your nightmares; that takes a lot of courage. I admire you for it.
"Anyhow, for what it's worth, I accept your apology about making fun of my name. But honestly, I wasn't crying about you making fun of it. I never gave it a second thought. I was crying because I knew how afraid and ashamed you felt standing there in front of everyone, especially me, your misunderstood nightmare come to life. Sure, I looked you all over, up and down, head to toe and fingertip to fingertip. I couldn't help myself.
"Dammit Chris, I know you sure didn't want to do a Gipsy Rose Lee in front of everyone and for a fact I sure as hell wouldn't have wanted to stand in front of everyone in my soggy pull-ups either. But you didn't squawk one bit. Obviously, something's were more important to you than whether or not you were going to flash the crowd with something that half the world is born with and that the other half knows all about anyway. But for the record I thought you looked ... wonderful. No. That's not the word I thought of when you were standing there, the word I used was ... Perfect. I was crying for you and because everything I saw was perfect. You are more than just cute, and for what its worth, using your own words, I too think you are "Beautiful. Just" ... what you ... "...really wanted to hear."
"I'm sorry, but for some reason, when you came into my mother's store with your father, something just seemed to make me ... more than curiously interested in you. I could not help the feeling that somehow and for some reason: you were "beautiful" and the perfect "one" for me.
"But I thought I was really odd, you know, after all, Christine's a girl, and I thought it was so strange that I'd be attracted to a ... girl. And all this time it was not ... her ... but it was you. I mean ... maybe I was too wrapped up in ... well ... you already know I had ... sort of a ... damn there's no good way to say this ... for the past ten months I've had a major crush on her. Ohh crap! I mean you!
"The first impression you made on me, is the same as the one word I personally just used to describe you. I thought you were perfect. That's why I couldn't figure out why I was attracted to you ... I mean her. I hate to admit it, but personally, even if you were a girl, for some reason I'd still be attracted to you.
"But its only now, that I'm certain it was you I saw, because the only diffence I noticed just a couple of minutes ago, when you were standing with your back to me, along side of your sister, is that you have a birthmark on your left arm; she doesn't. It's the same one I saw, both times, when you turned to walk out of the store with your dad. Well, there is one other small difference, and I'm not sure if now is the right time to tell you, but, you really need to do something about the callous on your left thumb. I'll explain it to you later, but we can fix that.
"Your sister said you were special, intelligent and especially sensitive and that you both were twins. O.K. maybe she did say the word fraternal. But, I honestly don't remember her saying it. I never imagined ... you don't look at all what I'd expected. If only by your appearance, you're more "satisfying." I can't explain it, but why do I have a growing yen for you?
"You know, it was so sweet the way you described me. I'm really flattered that I was in your dreams. I have to admit, and I don't know how you did it, but you guessed my name dead on. I mean that is insightful; unless of course, you knew, all along and you were just leading us on. However, there is something else about you that's really cool.
"You can dress like a girl and no one would know the difference. Well ... you do play the part well. No, I'm sorry, and that was cruel to say. Your not playing at this, are you? You can't help the way you look and even if you tried to look ugly, you'd fail and just draw more attention to yourself with all the second looks you'd be getting. Christine tried to tell me about how sensitive you were about being mistaken for a girl. But honestly, your sort of like being sugar and spice, and everything nice, but you make a "point" that's especially, you know, .." giggling as she pints to my crotch, ...yummy. To my added surprise she proclaims, "Guess you could tell I just wanted to eat you up!"
In amazement, I quickly turn my head back to look at Mom and shake my head in disbelief, but before I can reply to her more than amused face, "See, what'd I tell you!" ... Melinda doesn't seem to take a breathe as she plows on. The swivel in my neck automatically turns me back to face the predator that, by appearance, would be all to happy to eat me alive. Again, I think of fish: little fish vs. big fish, no contest. Big fish takes it all.
"I must tell you the truth. Everytime my father would catch me in a daydream, he would ask what I was dreaming of. Of course, for me, it was always the same dream. It got to the point that whenever he found me gazing off into space he would softly tell me in the same words each time. To this day, I remember his six words, "You will find your prince, princess." Little did I know or imagine that he would be right on both counts."
Before she can speak another word, I shut my cake hole and stand as if I have been jack lighted. Blinded and wide-eyed; breathless and awaiting fates intervention.
Thankfully, Dad interrupts her presentation. "Melinda. Excuse me. Melinda, I'm sorry but ...
Acknowledgment: The Winner Takes It All, ABBA
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"... I believe you are incorrect about Christopher. Melinda, I appreciate that you have a crush on my son, even if it initially was one of mistaken identity. But Melinda, you are mistaken, there is no way you could have seen Christopher with me in your mother's store, not once and certainly not twice. You probably caught a glimpse of him elsewhere in the mall."
Her reply is concise. "No sir. I saw him with you two times."
Father's retort is equally short and to the point, "I'm sorry, you've made a mistake. Of the four times I was in your mother's store, I went alone. While there were other sales personnel present, it was only your mother, Brisa, who waited on me. Go ahead and ask her now if anyone else was with me. Besides, unless you hid yourself, I never saw you either."
Without hesitation, she replies, "Mr. Markison, I WAS in the store, but I was looking, through the one way mirror to the showcase where you and him were standing at: that's why you didn't see me. On your very first visit, you had some papers in your hand, and were showing my Mother, the diagram of what you wanted made. Christine ... I mean Chris ... was talking to you and you were nodding your head "Yes" after every time she finished talking to you.
"And both times you guys walked out of the store together, she ... damn ... I mean he ... would ... well ... just take your hand and rest her ... his ... oh whoever it was' ... head against the right side of your arm and walkout with you. Uhh ... well it was ... just ... well ... kinda like what a girl would do with her dad, you know. But that's when I first thought I noticed the birthmark. It did seem kinda odd that whenever I saw her after those two times ... well ... it wasn't there anymore. She ... didn't have it again ... I mean ... he did ... Chris that is.
"Besides, the cute little pure white dress with the gold braided waist sash she wore the first time, looked ever so special; I couldn't take my eyes off it either. Ever since then, I've looked in all the designer catalogs and browsed the web sites as well. I still haven't seen anything quite like it. It was mesmerizing, it almost looked as if it all glowed, somewhat soft all over like, but, but, not only white but somehow golden as well. She even had a pair of flat white sandals with gold straps to match which were equally as charming. The second time she came in with you, everything was just the opposite: gold dress, white sash, gold sandals. Again, even if it was the same style it was attention grabbing just the same, especially in the show room, the spot lights made the dress almost seem to glisten.
"Of course, I looked her over, from head to toe. I couldn't help myself, and ... and ... I still can't ... help but look or stare at her ... I mean him. Both times when she walked into the store with you; even her hair had a natural bounce to it; it still does. Girls notice things like naturally wavy hair; especially, if it turns into those soft ringlet curls which barely touch the shoulders. Every girl Iknow would positively go over the edge for hair like that.
"When school started up last fall, I tried to cozy up to her. Sure, I had an ulterior motive ... and ... and ... well maybe I wasn't to subtle about it either. But I tried to break the ice, if only to get close to her, so I asked Christine whom her hair stylist was, what beauty parlor she went to, you know, I wanted the one who did her hair. She just smiled at me and said it was like that naturally. I have to admit, I was jealous and ... and ... hurt.
"Because, honestly, every time I tried to get closer to her ... well ... she was disinterested. Me ... I ... I ... I've been ... preoccupied ... I can't get her ... I mean him ... out of my mind.
"But there is more about what when on in the store. What was actually strange now that I think about it, is, that for some reason both times after you all had left, I went to the exact spot you both were standing in. I could still smell the perfume she was wearing. Sort of like oranges only a lot sweeter. That's the truth! I never really thought anything else about that ... well ... up to now that is. Why is that?
"Besides, I thought it was really kinda cool that you were going to have three specially made bracelets made for your wife; and that Christine was helping you. Especially, since they were similar to the one that Aeron Deryn had shown my Mom that she'd found, about eleven years ago.
"Anyhow, Mother had called Aeron several times, and they talked quite a bit about how closely the newly designed bracelet matched the one she'd found. I really didn't think anything else about any of this, the bracelets, I mean, until just minutes ago either.
"All I could really think about was Christine ... I'm sorry ... no ... I'm not ... why should I feel sorry and apologize about the way I felt. Like I said ... I couldn't help feel that I wanted ... whoever it was I saw ... if that turns out to be Christopher ... so much the better! You don't know how impressive those dreamy, wide eyed, green eyes of his are. Sure I know he's got make-up on right now, so what! He really doesn't need much anyway. Though I have to admit," she looks directly at Christina, "...the mascara you applied does make his eyelashes look a lot longer: more heavenly.
"But ... honestly ... I know I saw him in the store. I saw him twice. I ... I ... fell in love with what I saw! And the more I see of him the more I want him! Every ... little bit of him.
"The last time I saw him was just before you came into talk to Mom again, in her store, not in the mall, for the last time. In fact, Aeron came in about two hours after you guy's left and gave Mother her cell phone number; and asked her to call whenever the piece had been finished and was going to be accepted by the customer who ordered it. She said she had a personal interest in the customer. I know that's true too 'cause I was there with my Mom! I heard what she said and I heard my Mom talk to her. I didn't miss a word! Then eene ekene e sosti metera? Isn't that right mother?
Before Dad can wedge a word in, Brisa, with a smile, takes her que. "E kori mou mila teen aleithea." My daughter speaks the truth. "Iketevo ti szungxorize." I beg your pardon. Sometimes it is ... struggle ... for me, not to break my thoughts into "alles glosses" ... other languages. Well, she is correct, but only as far as Aeron is concerned." Softly she continues, "Melinda, O Kirios Markison einai sosto. Mr. Markison is correct. No one else accompanied him when he and I spoke of the initial design, the cost or of their approximate collective completion date. I did not see either Christina or, this child," as she nods towards me, "her brother, enter or leave with Mr. Markison, on any occasion. "
Ms. Agapp switches her attention from Melinda to Mother, Father and my new sister Aeron D. as well as casting quick glances towards Christine and me. "The last time he was in the store is when he also changed the quantity ordered from three to four. Today's date ... enai aufti pou apaitise ... is the one he firmly demanded.
"For some reason, he was quite adamant, that unless I could guarantee delivery ... seemera ... by today ... aufto to proee ... this morning, actually, that something would not be quite right. My last calls to Aeron, were to inform her of the customer's acceptance. Alla then ti kalesa ... But I did not call and tell her to come here. Oxi ... No. I didn't know the home address of Mr. Markison. He purchased the pieces using his business address and business phone. It was a cash transaction. However, he did provide me his cell phone number." Father nods as if to confirm.
"I was surprised by Aeron Deryn's appearance, almost immediately after he departed. I was adamant that I would not compromise my client's privacy by giving his phone number ... tu se pleri sxeno ... to a complete stranger."
Aerons expression is all to obvious. Complete stranger? Maybe to her, Brisa, she was a "xenos" but to all else concerned, she was family.
"Melinda, you are correct, you were present for our discussion. You know that her pleas for his phone number were based upon not only her explanaton of how intricate a path she followed to track down your fathers work; but also, of her convincing explanaton of how much more than coincidence that either; the found bracelet was to her, to Mrs. Markison and for some reason to our family. You and I.
"Of course, the fact that she knew my first name made an impression on me. Is it usual that people would know it, let alone know its ancient historical significance? Oxi. Is it usual for such distinctively seperate pieces to be similarly designed. Oxi. Se para kalo. Lupame. I'm sorry. Again the answer is no. However, there is more than mere similarity between the two. The duplicated design was a conscious effort.
"So, after hearing her story of how she came to find it, e lexeis meson, the mediums words, and after pleading with me ... I relented, for some reason I felt the need to, I gave Aeron his cell number.
"So here, I find myself witnessing, what, a play involving a family whose roots are as deep as our own. To what end? Looking at a little boy with fears so deep that if I were to know of them would I fear as well? By his own words through the ages, he has been an eternal child, who speaks only the truth and with the Maker Himself? Oxi. Einai perisoteno apo auftos ... No. It is more than that. He has played Tabli me Aufto? ... Backgammon with the One? Ke exhi kertheese? And he has won?
"Not to be sarcastic, alla aufto apatei oti ene defterolepto koitazi ... but this requires a second look. I feel that there is more to his explanaton to his mother; especially so, because I understand, that only a portion of his sister's enlightenment to us all has been addressed.
"And this ... aufto to mikro agori ... this little boy, Christopher ... pos einai dunato? ...how is it possible? When I first saw him, I was certain, a little girl cried. I thought her most adorable, even though so thoroughly upset. Obviously, ekana lathos ... I was wrong.
"Auftos o mikros ines ... this little one ... pos vrorese na xeri oti imon? How, can he know so much? How could he know that I was so leery ... auftis tis sunedriases? Of this meeting? I knew nothing of Mr. Markisons other child ... tu gyio tou ... of his son. I was under the mistaken impression that there were two girls in the family: twins. Tora, briskomae alethena gyoitevmenou apo aufton ton ligo ene. Now, I find myself truly charmed by this little one.
"As for being here, now, it was through Christina's directions, which I followed to this address. I was determined that you would not be set upon by that ... skatacephalon ... shithead ... who threatened you. If he or any of his friends were here, O diabolos o idthios tha exei fobismeno egho, tha exei upartsx pou pleronei. Tone orkizomai! ... the devil himself would have feared me, there would have been hell to pay. I swear it!
"Melinda, do not loose this little one. You would do well to keep him close to your heart as I feel him to be close to yours. If the words he spoke were truly his secreted desire, if such were true, I would not deny him: that is, if it were permitted.
"To gliko mou, my sweet, when you first told me of your infatuation with a girl, I was concerned. That you chose to rid yourself of the cretinous male who offended you was to your credit. My intial misgiving, over your infatuation with whom you thought to be a girl, is no longer a concern to me. He has an inner strength and intelligence. His appearance is as sweet as any boy I have seen. However, for some reason, he may be as sly a mischief-maker as I have ever known. I would know more of him.
"Look at the walls of his room. If you were obsessed with his mistaken image, he was not mistaken of yours. Truthfully. The freckles, which you have always tried to hide, despite my pleas not to do so, are as he has decribed them to be.
"Kanena apo aufto then eine sumtosei. None of this is coincidence.
-
"He can speak, Greek and German. I think he speaks it even better than Mrs. Holtz does; and she's your schools German and French teacher. Aeron said the one he was before, Elias, could speak French too.
"Interesting. Pouvez-vous? Can you?"
From Christine's split screen image to me of Father mouthing the same word as Melisa, it is clear; both are simultaneous. As Brisa and I speak to each other, Melinda looks from her Mother to my Father's bemused look then back to me. It is then that her face once more changes. I can read the one word which crosses their lips in both languages. "Eises! ... You!"
The question now is which one should I address first. Melinda, is my choice, though at the same time I feel I can also explain to my Father; well at least I hope I can. Before I can do so, I try to wiggle off of Mrs. Agapps probing inquires with as much grace as possible.
"Oui. Mais porquioi? Yes. But why?
Je pense qu'il a plusieurs autre que je peux parler et refleter dedans aussi bien, parfois, tous en meme temps. I think there are several others I can speak and reflect in as well, sometimes, all at the same time.
"Mais, je dios admettre, parfois il obtient, confondant, mas vers le haut jusqu'ici, je n'ai pas vraiment essaye de parler reellment dehors fort. But, I have to admit, sometimes it gets, confusing, but up until now, I haven't really tried to actually talk out loud. Quelle difference est-ce que cela te fait? Respectfully, what difference does that make to you?
"But excuse me, I need to explain to Melinda and ... well ... my Father as well about ... well please just listen. While I know you kind of like me I hope I will not offend you by what I am going to say.
"Melinda, honestly, the ... the ... one who is standing in front of you now ... me ... Christopher ... well that was me but before I was born. I know this sounds strange. But, I told everyone before that I had scripted what I had to make everything come out right. How could I ignore my Father? Think about what I just said. I can do more, a lot more.
"I know its confusing to you but you actually saw me dressed in what all would be souls are dressed in. The first time you saw me, honestly, it was nothing fancy, just a plain white tunic with gold sash. Of course the clothe is ever so special and has many unique characteristics which are not clearly observable. The gold sash and even the sandals are what you might call standard issues. The second time, well truly, that was fancier. I kinda loved the way it glittered, that's why I wore it.
"Besides, you have no idea of how soft those tunics are. They feel a lot softer than satin ever could be. Of course, you don't buy them in any store or on line. And as for the orange smelling perfume, that's called ambrosia. I found that out for myself, the hard way, a couple of years ago, but just started to remember a lot more a couple of minutes ago.
"As for the bracelets, well, they were for some really special girls. One was for my Mother. One was for Christina and the other was for Krystal, I mean, Aeron, my new baby sister. Well she isn't new just yet that is. But she will be! But honestly, I didn't have anything to do with the fourth bracelet. Right now, I don't know what the fourth one is all about.
"You heard me tell everyone what I was always called up there. Even you couldn't tell the difference when you saw me coming and going. But honestly, I never knew you were in the store or that you even really existed until yesterday! Or start to know even more about you just a couple of minutes ago when I connected your middle name with Astyanax. And, I wasn't yanking your chain either! Your middle name and face is the same one I remembered when I got thrown off of that damned cliff!
"And if you haven't figured it out already, 'cause you came in late for the first act of this ... this ... crap! ... I have a middle name too. Bet you can't guess what it is? Can ya?! No wait. I'll even tell you my initials C.H.M. First and last names don't count! No studying Melinda. What the hell does "H" stand for? No don't guess! That's another f'kn rhetorical question! "H" ... Melinda ... stands for Hector!
"Your mother's whatever killed my father a long time ago! Your no dumb ass! You hafta know what his name was. Even I know it. No. No studying here either. Lived through it. Well almost all of it anyway. What I don't get is how the hell you, or Cassandra, wound up being her, Brisa's, daughter!
"So right now, if its all the same, to everyone, not that some of you would've noticed or given a rat's ass about, but my stomach is still hurting and ... and ... oh the hell with it! All of you think I'm so friggen smart and sly! Bullcrap! I'm smart enough to know that I just have'ta get through all of this this time. If I don't I'm history. What a joke! That's what I've always been or wound up as being: history! You know. Like ... in ... dead like me!
"I know you all have a lot of questions but I can't stand to answer anymore ... not now ... I can explain later if you'll all let me. Besides, all I really want to do is to get those three pens together. That'll get my mother off the hook. And of course, I still have to face my Father: naturally. You know that won't require anything formal to wear. Just my birthday suit!
"And I don't want to be formal anymore! I want to be me. Just me! I'm tired of being looked at like, like, I'm the most beautiful boy in the world. The other name for it is SISSY! Melinda, you think I haven't caught on to the words you used to describe me?! I'm not that stupid! Sure I'm starting to cry now, but crying, well for me that's nothing new. I've had years of experience!
"You know Melinda, it was clever the way you used the words you strung together to describe me. Sure they were separated by other words, but you used them all in a special order. To get their first letters to spell the same word I'm always afraid to hear and that ... that ... you used on me ... even if you didn't know you were doing it! You did it to me twice!
"You remember the words: "Special," "Intelligent," "Sensitive,"
"Satisfying," and "Yen." What've ya got? No. Don't answer, just another damned rhetorical question. "Sweet," "Insightful," "Sugar & Spice," and how can I forget "Yummy?!"
"How can I forget those kind words, that "you will find your prince, princess. Little did I know that he would be right on both counts." No, I'm not brain dead, not yet anyway. I know what that's supposed to mean too.
"I honestly apologized to you about using your name as I did. Instead of just getting mad and yelling at me you tried to sneak some words together to make ... make ... me feel like so much crap ... an ... an ... anagram!
"Go ahead. You don't have to think it. Now you can say it out loud. Even when you were describing me you were still calling me that name. SISSY!! Damn I HATE YOU! Its almost as if you were calling me out about something. The way you talked about me, it was more than you wanting me to feel good about me. You were knifing me just as sure as I was carved up by that bastard who did Elias in. He took my tongue. You talked as if you wanted my heart. But, I could tell. You wanted my soul. You, "A lover or a friend," sorry, no sale on either count! So don't give it a second thought ... it's all right!
-
"You know, what makes me feel even worse is that I was almost ready to trust you. Just like, you asked. And maybe more so because of what Astyanax suggested I write. So if your gonna be broken hearted. Go right ahead, maybe that's what you really need to be, nobody right now can or is gonna stop you. Especially, me!
"Some "dream girl" you turned out to be: especially to me. So what's a couple of tears more? I'd a been better off just getting by without anyone like you always looking at me. As for all the butterflies that I glass cased, don't worry about them either, "Petalutha mou," .. "My butterfly;" they'll all be in the garbage before I go to sleep tonight!
"What's more, if I ever see your face in my dreams again I'll understand what you really are, nothing more than a sneaky fake.
"Oh, and if you need to put more make-up on to cover over those freckles, make sure it's blood red. That's what Szach-eh-waneh had on his face when he wasted me! He didn't tease me with his looks. He told me what he wanted and he made damn sure I had a taste of it and that it was on mine too, before ... before ... oh ... screw you!
"I take back my apology about making fun of your name. You were cold, calculating and almost black hearted. Apologizing to you, that was my mistake Melinda. Believe me, I won't make that mistake again! Your face might have fooled me but how could I have been fooled by your name?
"In fact it wasn't only your face that set me off yesterday it WAS your name. As soon as my sister thought it, I went ape! I even accused ... her ... of backstabbing me! All the time it was gonna be you!
"Your name Melinda ... your name ... your ... name?
"You know, every time your mother wanted to talk directly to you, or, to make a point, she started with your name.
"Your mother used the words, "To gliko mou" ... "My sweet" ... those are the words she used just a couple of seconds ago ... but it was the way she used them ... it's supposed to mean "my sweet." But ... it's the way she used it. Except, except, Melinda doesn't really mean sweet. It means the dark or the black one! What an appropriate description!
"Sure, there is a second meaning but it really doesn't apply. Not the way she used it and certainly not the way she spoke it, lovingly.
"Which means that she used your name either incorrectly, or ... or ...? I know your mother is too smart to use your name wrong. Which leaves only one other explanation. She began the sentence describing the name, which in its meaning, to her, you should have been named ... Melina ... soft and gentle, soothing, sweet, like honey. That's the way she used it to start the sentence. You were misnamed? You WERE misnamed! But why? Melina ... that's what you were supposed to be named. Not Melinda! So? Am I right? Do you have anything else to add to that bit of information? Should I keep on going?! On the other hand, are my rhetorical questions now just so much more sensitive, insightful, sweetly sensitive and yummy, ooie-gooie, sissy twisted word crap for you to handle?
"You didn't have the balls to stand and tell me to my face that I looked like a sissy! Even that's a joke. Of course, you don't have any and I'm shy of one myself. But, you skipped all around the word. Sure, I have long hair and it looks like my sisters. But, you know, I could just turn that around. Her hair looks just like mine. So does her face. Even down to the ears, eyelashes and eyebrows, well, maybe even the lips too. So what does that make her? If that was all you were falling all over her and going gah-gah about then you're pretty shallow, and I feel sorry for your mother. She has class. I guess she couldn't pass that on to you, could she! You had to try to be so clever. Who's the clever one now my superficial poppet?
"Or is the "Sissy" you sneakily mocked just leading you on? You dreamed of a prince, princess. Well, you're half right. At one time, I was a prince. And, as for being a princess ... that's in your dreams! Not mine!
"Why are you even still standing in front of me? Why don't you just turn around, walk down the stairs and run out the door? Why do you remain? Haven't I been clear enough about how you made me feel about you and myself? Your "sweet face" ... guess even that'll start to turn my stomach ... guess I've had one sweet too many. Now that I think about it, it isn't only candy that's gonna make me sick, it's just the thought of having to look at you!
You said, "Trust me." Master Su, my martial arts teacher, told me to keep my enemies close, but my friends closer. I swear, you'll never get close enough to knife me in the back again! I trust you just about, as far as I can throw you!
For the several moments of silence before I continue, it is clear that Mrs. Agapp is stunned. As for the false sweetener, she appears to be miserable. I mull it over to myself; at least, there is symmetry, so am I. The tears she's crying are convincing, and with reason, I truly did make a girl cry. But, why do I feel she almost went of of her way, to make it so obvious, as if she was begging for it to happen? I turn my attention to Mrs. Agapp.
"Mrs. Agapp, I truly apologize to you. I said before, I did not want to offend you. But, I know otherwise, I'm sorry. You said you wanted to know more about me. Well, that's what I've been trying to find out about myself as well. It's just that, your daughter Melinda, well, I've never been this angry before ... well ... maybe yesterday with my sister I came close.
"Well ... actually ... maybe it ... it ... was because ... because, it was the first time I ever got ... excited over ... thinking about .. about ... I mean when she ... she touched ... it was the first time ever. I'm sorry, forget I even said anything about that. But really, it almost seemed like your daughter was just teasing me and purposely leading me on, you know, playing me for a fool, but at the same time somehow wanting me to explode at her. I mean ... if ... if ... she wanted me to more than ... than ... well like her and stuff like that .... why did she ... do what she did?
"I know you only want what's best for your Melinda. But I'm not all that certain it would include me. If its all the same to you, I honestly appreciate all of the hard work your husband did on the bracelet he made for my Mother. And, I don't know if my Dad has picked up the other bracelets he ordered, well, through me anyway, I want you to know if their half as great as the original, I, thank you. They'll be wonderful.
"I really am sorry for my outburst, but ... it wasn't right what she tried to do. I got angry and ... well ... maybe I did go overboard. Clearly, I know you would not want me to be around her at all, I mean, as far as her being the guide of the school tour I was supposed to take with her. Besides, I don't think I want to be around her all that much either. So ... if you want ... maybe with my sisters help ... I'll try and find someone else to walk with ... even if it is a girl.
"And as for your statement about a further explanation from me ... I mean ... about my sisters enlightenment needing further study. You are elegant and smart. There is more. But please, I don't think I can take much more of this right now. I know you don't know half the stuff that I even dreamed about. But I'm telling you the truth. Every dream I've ever had just killed me. You can ask my sister or my parents. They'll tell you the truth. All I want to do right now is to finish what I have to do.
"But I would ask you one favor. If you ever find out why she tried to embarrass me and cut me, with her words, please, tell me. I promise I will never try to find out anything else about you or her."
Mrs. Agapp shakes her head, side to side and sternly replies, "No little one, you may not ask one single favor of me. Melinda, my sweet, for the moment, come and stand by me, before we leave, I will speak my mind. Moreover, trust me; I will only speak the truth. While you, Christopher H. Markison, will stand and listen as well. However, more, you may wish to become less formal, for me, on the other hand, it is necessary that I do so. I believe you claimed you had no knowledge of my daughter or even of her name and, that, you did not script, this portion of what you or my daughter is experiencing. I believe you.
"Under other circ-umstances, I would have taken you over my knee and blistered your impertinent behind, Trust me; you would not have sat for days without remembering my hand. In addition, you would have known better than to look to your Mother or Father to intercede. I am certain that they have taught you better. I will take this to the conclusion of what I feel is my participation in this, this, play.
"Move closer, stand in front of my daughter, the one you have reduced to tears and me. Understand, only through your eyes must you see her, not another's, even if it is easier for you.
The serious nods from my parents and sisters alike, are in unison. Cautiously, I approach the lioness that protects her cub. I mentally note that if Mother's finger once softly beckoned me, Mrs. Agapps is now more of an emphatic demand. Guess they all have the same sign language down pat. No studying!
The other thing I realize is the disgust I have doing this. The closer I get, the more difficult it becomes to look at either Mrs. Agapp or ... Melinda. Honestly, I cringe at looking at both of them, but especially Melinda. I think to myself, if my Mother felt half as bad ...
In the few steps from the stage to arch, I consciously begin to fondle the satin hem sewn beneath the cover-up, guessing old habits die-hard. As much as I want to, at least I'm able to stop my left hand before it gets too far. I imagine the wry smile that is now crossing Mrs. Agapps' lips, signals that she has noticed as well.. It's kinda obvious. In any case, just before I stop myself, Mrs. Agapp does it for me. Her right hand takes hold of my shoulder and pulls me close enough to stand exactly in front of the two of them. I know better, but somehow, I think crying is contagious. Mrs. Agapps eyes are starting to leak as well. The angry outburst I expect from her is anything but. The mask she wore before melts away as she begins.
"Christopher, I told you before, you may not ask one single favor of me. You may ask as many as you desire. Be quiet and listen. When you have heard what I have to say, then you may continue your odyssey to completion. I will not ask a rhetorical question, it seems you have had your fill. Besides, it is evident that you are a master of rhetoric; it would be pointless as well as insulting.
"Kurioi: kai Astyanax, Elias, Joachem ke Christophorus; nobles oloi. Christophor, opogonos, tou dunatou Hector, uperaspites efphroston tou Troiu; I O' agapemenos apogonos tou Achaens meghistu polemiste Achilleas, einei teememenous ghia na einai sti sundthiasmena parousia kai to toksxo sas se sas. Zeto sungnome gyia tis energeeis tis koris mou Melinda Cassandra. Esaste sostoi na thumothete steen anarmoste prospatheia tees na sas eksxapatesie. Masters: Astyanax, Elias, Joachem and Christopher; nobles all. Christopher, descendant, of the mighty Hector, stalwart defender of Troy: I, the beloved descendant of the Achaeans greatest warrior Achilles, am honored to be in your combined presence and bow to you. I apologize for the actions of my daughter Melinda Cassandra. You were right to be angered at her inept attempt to deceive you.
"Clearly, you are clever, insightful, and as cunning and sagacious a child I have ever known. Moreover, articulate, if the mood so strikes you.
"Additionally, my little noble, and here, take no inference of disrespect; you are clearly as sensitive a child as I have met. I do not use the word to belittle you; on the contrary, you are perceptive and completely aware of what surrounds you on all levels. My precious little one, Odysseus, the King of Ithaca, wandered for ten years after the fall of Troy and lost all who he took with him, before he returned home. You, a boy prince, have wandered for over three thousand years and have not lost a soul. Einei e teme mou gyia na sas sunanteiso. It is my honor to meet you.
"Somehow, you have pierced what only my husband and I have known. My daughter's name Melinda was an error, not of our omission, but rather of another's purposeful addition. The "d" in her name, being added purposely: not by myself and certainly not by her Father. To both of us, until just now, it was inexplicable. Her Father desired the name of the child to be Melina. A nurse at the maternity ward, for some reason, wrote the name incorrectly upon her birth certificate. Supposedly, neither of us was aware of the error. Yet, honestly at the time, somehow, allegedly both of us misread the name. At first, my husband told me it was through his strongly accented and repeatedly poor pronunciation of the child's name, in English, which caused the error. Several years later, I found out that was not the truth. Ena lefto bvrisketei. A white lie. Somehow, only I misread the name.
"Prior to when she was to be enrolled in school, I again noted the error on the certificate. Yet, before enrollment, for this past school year, her Father almost passed away. Fearing he would do so he told me what he said was the total truth about her name.
"He relayed, what he stated was a decidedly one-way and silently private conversation with the nurse who wrote the name upon her certificate. At that time, her explanation to him was anything but simple: either to understand or accept.
"Please, what I will tell you I have told no one else. Not even my daughter. Even now, I fear your parents will think me mad. Forgive me for now I understand how little I knew then or truthfully even now. My apologies, I find it difficult ... to relay ... without ... without continuously resorting to tears.
"I must preface my remarks. My husband is not an overtly religious man.
"He was quite upset over the mistaken name written upon the birth certificate. He set about the maternity ward to find the nurse who by appearance tended our newborn. All whom he spoke with discounted his description of the nurse. Repeatedly, being told that no one by that description or name worked in the maternity ward. He was beside himself and grew increasingly angry.
"Without knowing what to do, he resolved to return to the hospital room, and remove us from what he was calling the hospital ... ena trello spiti! ... a mad house! To his utter astonishment when he opened the door to our room, the object of his hunt, stood beside my bed.
"Melinda kei imoun kai o duo koimismenous, kathos eiseigage. Melinda and I were both asleep, as he entered. Etan exorgismenous! He was enraged! He moved to confront the nurse as she stood over our daughter with her right hand resting upon our child's head.
"Yet, before he could speak, he claims the nurse looked at him ... and what he saw ... frightened him, no, actually terrified him. He claims her eyes seemed to burn right through him ... flashing in a manner which absolutely petrified him. He also claimed that while he did not see her lips move ... She, none-the-less spoke these very words to him. As I relay them to you, please, look at my sweet."
I do as asked.
She continues, "Still your anger, the child's name must remain as written; until, a little one, who himself is as well guarded as your daughter, pierces the haze of ambiguity which has surrounded her for ages. Then all shall be clear. The first cut of her words to the child must be the unkindest and deepest. Unknowingly, she must entreat his acid replies to her provocations. Only then, will the curse years ago cast, be undone. When spurned and broken hearted will she then come forth and find herself again in love with the truth. The blood shed between two great houses must no longer divide them. The accord is made; she is the bridge, between the two. All of this I have long ago foreseen"
"Christopher, please look at me once more." Again I comply. Resistance is as futile as is trying to stop the goose bumps now raising on my arms and legs.
"Before my husband could compose himself and respond, his head turned to the sound of the door handle to the room lifting as another person was about to gain entry. His eyes moved to watch another nurse enter the room, walking from the doorway to stand by our bedside.
"My husband swears his eyes did not deceive him. As his eyes followed the nurse to our bedside, there to his amazement, the nurse who had just entered stood alone. The nurse with the flashing eyes was no longer at our bedside nor to be seen anywhere in the room. She had vanished. My husband claims that for several moments he mutely stood by and watched the nurse note the progress chart at the foot of our bed. His watering eyes followed her as she left the room. When he turned his head back to the bed, the one with the flashing eyes again stood before him. Again, to his astonishment, without her lips moving, she spoke to him. "Your daughter, once again, shall be in my care as is now the little one whom I guard. A simple prayer, which you will teach her, is all that is required. Do not fail to teach her the following, "Lord, grant me an angel of peace, a faithful guide, a guardian of my soul and body, to watch over me, I ask of You." Aggapemenous, emai ekkeinos o angelos ... Aggapimenous, I am that angel." With those last words barely spoken, the nurse, according to my husband, without the slightest effort, rose ... and ... literally seemed to melt into the ceiling above. He claims also, that the aroma of orange blossoms filled the room.
"At his request, to this day, both he and I have never told Melinda any of this. For some reason, he strongly felt, if that what was to be, it must occur on its own, without our intervention. Otherwise, it would have been contrived. When I return home, this afternoon, tha me skepsetei trello! He will think me mad!
"Please, Christopher, consider my words. You asked me moments ago for a favor: if I could explain to you why she tried to embarass you, and cut you with her words, would I explain. Have I not done so? Does any of what I have said have meaning to you?
"Na esti efxaristos ke epanesxetaste tis lexeis sas. Me teen pekri glossas sas, teen exhete katastrepsi sxethon. Be gracious and reconsider your words. With your bitter tongue, you have all but destroyed her. If at one time, you lost your tongue, it now seems you have found it. Was it as spiteful then? I do not think so. In the heat of a moment, you honored me though called my daughter classless. That is unbecoming of your nature. Please, I solicit you again, do not be so quick to judge, reconsider and temper your remarks: return my sweet to me.
"Eme oli para polu exsokiomenoi me ta lutra tou somatos Hectors apo ti skenei to progonou mou. Thedomenou oti Priam Achilles, parakalo se sas. I am all too familiar with the ransom of Hectors body from the tent of my ancestor. As Priam supplicated Achilles, I plead to you. Return my sweet to me.
"I cannot offer a kings ransom, the great riches, as Priam did. Sas prosfero perisotero. I offer you more. Without doubt, you are not absorbed with gold or riches, only the truth. If you were captive of an unbroken circle, so was she. While you were aware of what you sought, she could only cry to you for help, infuriating you, as foretold.
"Permit a mother's counsel, indeed, the winner takes it all. However, how will the loser and others judge you? Will you leave the loser bereft of all, including dignity? Please, my sweet, you can see so many things and claim you can do more; look kindly at my daughter.
"Then itan to xeri tis pou othei to maxheri ... It was not her own hand which thrust the knife, which cut you. Antitheta ... On the contrary, it was that of a lingering and vain lesser god whose curse only your words could break. Assuredly, as he felled my ancestor by aiding the flight of an arrow to his heel, you have dissolved his last vestige of hate with your bitter tongue and language.
"I will not dance on the head of a pin. Indeed, you are strong, intelligent, sly, and yes, somehow even to a woman of my age, peculiary sensuous while comprising the best qualities of both: yin and yang. Ask your master Su ... the best of both opposite yet complementary forces. Eki, sas exo kalesei ti eseis phobismenoi. Oti ti eseis akougyete? E akousete teen aleithea? There, I have called you what you feared. Is that what you heard? Or, did you hear the truth?
"Opyou phovaste tous perisoterous? Thas sas afhiso na eiste o thikastes auftos. E sungroosse enai thikos sas pou epilevfe. Which do you fear most? I shall let you be the judge of that. The conflict is yours to resolve.
"Lastly, consider again my appeal, do not leave her shattered with your words; can you be gracious in your victory? Merikes phoress, stei nike, enai kalotero na meen lephthia ola. Sometimes, in victory, it is best not to take it all. Separakalo, epistrespete to gliko se me. I plead to you again, return my sweet to me. You said, "Mother you have always done the right thing." Is it in your heart to do the same? Are you less that she?
"Moreover, has my daughter not revealed to you more than what she has told anyone else? Contemplate her words.
"Here, now, I have humbled myself to you and before others. Are you pleased?
"I shall even remove my daughter from your sight, if only for a brief moment. To answer another of your questions, the answer is yes, I do have the pieces with me, which your father ordered.
"Melinda, go downstairs and return with the wrapped packages, which are in the trunk of my car. When you return, place them at the entrance to Christopher's room then leave us. I will offer them to the young noble to judge if they are acceptable.
"Mr. Markison, I apologize. It would seem, that while you are the purchaser, your son, is the designer and would have the right of refusal if he found them unacceptable. If they are not to his liking, whatever he finds lacking will be rectified. Melinda, my sweet, please do as I ask. You can do nothing more here."
I hold my breathe; and understand what a poignantly and utterly dejected crestfallen girl I am looking at.
Before she has left, Aeron D. breaks her awkward and halting exit from the arch with her soft words. "Melina ....
-
"... sweetheart, I am sorry you feel so badly, and, that this has not gone well for you, never-the-less, I must ask a favor of you. If you please, since you are already going to your Mother's car, would you be kind enough to go to mine as well? In the trunk, there is one package. Please, bring it back upstairs with you as well."
Before her next words, Aeron's lips draw inward as her eyes dart from Melina then back to me, then, to return to Melina. Aeron's widening eyes are preceded by the slightest yet perceptible, wagging movement of both ears. She continues, "I'm sorry. Here are the keys."
As Melina approaches Aeron, to reach for the keys, her grasp is brought up short, as my elder sister quickly fists the keys, in one hand with four fingers and with thumb raised. In almost the same instant, with both hands, she pulls a reluctant Melina closer, ostensibly to hold and soothe her. While doing so, Aeron's lips pull inward as again, her eyes dart from Melina then back to me. Her free hand rises towards Brisa, and shaking her head, side-to-side, signals her to remain in place and not interfere.
Turning from the apprehensive looks of Brisa, and looking past Melina, she addresses only me.
"Enigok. (Do not be deaf eared.)
"Bizindoshin! Gidimaagenim gashjendamide'e gwaanisagademo. (Listen to me! Be generous and show compassion for she who grieves from the heart, crying bitterly.)
"Gishpin gii nishkede'e maajinaazhikaw naagwaana wanichigewinan - gii zhawenindi. (If you have a cold, angry heart and send her away in haste your actions will be a mistake - as it is evident you love one another.)
"Gishpin gii inaakonige maji-izhiwebiziwin misawaa-gwayakanaagazi giib aanawaadizi. (If you make such a judgment, ill tempered, even though appearing to be correct you will be in the wrong.) Gagwaanisagakamig baataa. (A terrible mistake.) Gii gashkendamide'e apani gaagige. (You will grieve from the heart forever.)
"Eyiidawayi'iinh gagwaanisagendaagoziwinan. Bekide'e misawaach gii ge'aabi ishkase nishkide'e aazhay nishkaabaanda. (Both sides have been terribly cursed. Be pure of heart even though you remain angry at heart and now look at her with anger.
"Gikeadaagazi ganage gwayakwendaowinan gonimaa maagizhan baataawe gagaanzom igaye. (Obviously, it is possible, that without right and just thought, one may goad with, or sin in words, too)
"Gishpin gii bekide'e,nibwaakaadendam azhegiiwe amaamaayjini wii aano waashkabangin. (If you remain pure of heart, think wisely, and return to her mother; her lost sweet.)
"Gizhaadizi nibwaakaa dibaajina inendam ashki binaaji. Gaye ji gii banaaji wii gaaipe-binaadiziwin? (Be generous, decide prudently and wisely and measure you words to give her new life. Or would you condemn her for eternity?)
"Dibaajimo giin maji-waawiinjigaade misawaa wiinawaa boochige. (Measure your ill spoken words, though they were necessary.) Wiinawaa niboowinci-bichibowin dakwandan maji-inendamawin Irinakhoiw shiishigwe anami'ewigimaa Szach-eh-waneh. (They are as deadly a poison as the bite of the evil intentioned Irikhoiw copper headed rattlesnake priest Szach-eh-waneh.)
"Young boy or young man to be, one will live longer, than the other will. That is your riddle to solve. Only you and you alone can make her stop crying. The decision is yours. Be strong enough to help her and intelligent enough, to make the right choice. Be sensitive enough, to understand why she cries; and sweet enough to swallow your pride. You may choose for they are your choices, all of them. Have I called you the same name as she did? If she reduced you to an anagram, you are a master of rhetoric, among other things, rearrange, discard or embellish the words as desired to suit your needs.
"If you decried your repeated fates, with selfeshness, you would leave her hopeless, forever to roam unhappy; her spirit both destroyed and continually condemned. Your words to her, as they stand now, are an endless death sentence.
"Onjinazhiwe booch. Nishewe. (If you must kill, kill for a reason.) Act honestly and justly. Gwayakose. (Temper your words.) Reconsider what you would do.
""Ginaawaadizi wiiwazonege waaninishkaa. (Act as the leader for those who you have entreated to follow you on this circuitous route.) Miziwe giniwaa babaamaadiziwiin gil menaaji'idiwag. (Complete your journey with honor.)
"Bakaan, inejige banaaji'giiwitaa ose gaagigelamig gakina-awiiya booshke. Nange ni-zaagi. (Otherwise, you will condemn every one of you, to walking in a circle, forever and ever. Without a doubt, loveless. It is your choice.)
"Nandewendan wiindamaagoowewizi azhigwa gii. (As you have gone back and asked for in a dream, I now inform you.)
"Enigok. Nantodan okawininan mayaa madwe. (Listen for her footsteps, clearly audible but out of sight.)
"Enigok. Nisidotam agindan wii naaba. 'Anidizo dago aadagindan. (Understand what is said. Count and recount her steps on the same path.)
"Gi-zaagi'in? Gi-zizaagi'ina? New ningododoon dash niiwin. Nishwaaswi bizhishig. (As I love you? Do you love me? Not one word but four. Eight in total.)
"Awibaa. Bagosenden wii danizi. (Be calm. Ask her to stay.)
"Enigok. Eta giishpin ji bagakaabandan gii zhawnindi. (If only you could clearly see that,you love one another.)"
With my nod of understanding to Aeron, she begins to smile and gently kisses Melina's cheek, while softly whispering in her ear; which, by appearance pains her further. Her wounded exit is apparent. As she moves past her Mother and begins her slow trudge to make her way down the stairs, I can't help but notice her attempt to steal several quick and short-lived glances back towards me, becoming even more upset and distressed, as she does. Also evident, is that I must address Mrs. Agapps' pleas. Before I begin, the distancing clop-thwacking sounds of Melina's footsteps resonate throughout the stairway.
Turning to Brisa I speak. "I'm sorry. To answer your last guestion ... no ... I am not pleased. I take no pleasure or contentment in what I have done, to you, your daughter or to myself. There is none. Only emptiness.
"Mrs. Agapp, beloved descendent of Achilles, the Achaens greatest warrior, for the moment, I respectfully and formally respond to you, both as Christopher and as Astyanax; we are the same. You asked if any of what you said had meaning to me. My reply is yes. Unfortunately it does. Both of us have lost much. Yet, if I had known half of what you told me before I spoke to her, I would have held my tongue and in so doing lost even more. This conflicted and unhappy encounter would not have come again for a very, very long time; if ever.
"First, I must take issue with your solitary praise of me, stating that Odysseus had lost all entrusted to him. On this issue, politely, you are in error. He did not lose all the souls who followed him. His promise to me, before I was cast from the precipice overlooking the fallen House of Priam, was in earnest. When I looked into his eyes, I understood, he spoke the truth; and realized that he would have been honored, to have me as his own. Of all who willingly followed him, with help, I am the lone soul, who survived. There is more to be said, on this, but for the moment, I must digress.
"Second, I would ask a favor and would hold you to your word. That before you leave, you speak to my Mother and Father, about your husband, concerning the hospital, and as to what he saw and experienced: neither, will think you mad; and when you return home, nor will your husband. What he saw was accurate. His desire for this to unravel naturally was regretfully correct. Again, I respectfully ask that you remain and not leave quickly. Besides, the long lingering questions of, my Mother and Father, with your explanation, may lay many of theirs to rest. More to the point, I am certain they would enjoy your company as would I.
"Mrs. Agapp, the nurse your husband saw, is likely the same as the one encountered by my parent, and the same who has watched over your daughter, my sister, my parents and me. If you misread her name but once, her name has escaped them repeatedly. There is more to her name than you realize. Shortly that too will become evident.
"Moreover, if it has gone unnoticed by you, and the others, I must draw your attention to the mediums' final statement, within the relayed paradigm, referencing the golden "Tri-Delt" letters, which hung above the door to my Mothers sorority house. "For in the letters another secret may apply." The statement itself was a double entendre. My Mother accurately noted the alledged coincidence, that Delta, is the fourth letter of three alphabets. "Tri-Delt," though, the three are seperate letters, each references three distint yet interlocked events.
"One, would be the recollection of the bet my Angel relayed to me, that those chosen would be allowed to come with me: a total of four.
"The second, also noted was the summation of the last integer of my steps, my rise and fall, as I stepped the stairway, the sum total being four.
"Finally, "For in the letters another secret may apply," are the last words of the paradigm, which the medium tendered. The statement is, in every aspect, duplicitous yet symmetrical. The first word spoken, a double entendre, referenced the fourth letter of the alphabet, in turn referencing the additional letter added to her name; the statement was a riddle within a riddle. The Gordian knot had to be unraveled. Metaphorically, it required the Alexandrian solution.
"Moments ago, I became angry, no, that is not corrct, I was incensed and consequently insulted your daughter while praising you. I understand that what I said might have been necessary, to lift a curse, but it truthfully does not make me feel well. In all honesty, I feel dreadful: not only concerning making her cry but also of losing something perhaps more valuable, losing sight of the truth. I understood what you offered. However, what you offered is not yours to give. It is hers.
"You advised you daughter to neither loose nor deny me, if it were permitted. Mrs. Agapp, she neither lost nor denied me. Regretully, I lost and denied her. I pushed her away myself. What may have been permitted was dissolved by my words.
"Truthfully, both of our obsessions brought us together: mine, a vision of her beauty; hers a vision for her love of the truth. If anything, mine was the most superficial. What is more evident is that the verbal knife which I cut her heart out was crueler and sharper than the one physically used upon me; thus, becoming the Alexandrian solution to which I alluded.
"You pleaded with me to return "your sweeet," "to gliko sou," and to reconsider my words. I am doing so as I speak. My desire to see your daughter was not to evaluate her or meant to demean her. To the contrary, I desired to look beyond the one dimensional picture, which nightly preceded and followed my nightmares.
"Having stared so long at her; not measured in the meager minutes of a fleeting memory, but for over three thousand seven hundred years of a constant vision, it became something I had to do. If I had not done so, then none of this would have happened. Is that good or bad? Truthfully, I am torn. Never-the-less, you are correct, none of this is coincidence.
"Please understand, I merely desired to view her from another perspective. Honestly, I would have walked continuously around her, not merely to gaze, but also to reachout and touch someone who had become so suddenly real. Moreover, the way I am speaking to you now, understand, this formality is not my choice. And, for the mment, I will lapse to what I desire ... I want to be ...
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"...oloklerou ... aphobo ... entirely ... unafraid.
"I know it's only one word to you ... but ... it means a lot to me. You said if you knew my fears that you might be afraid as well. Mrs. Agapp, really, you wouldn't want to remember all the stuff I do or even half of what I've been afraid of: and, I've been afraid of a lot of things and now they all seem to be balled up into one big mess. Heck, I'm even afraid to go to sleep at night ... nightmares mostly ... but sometimes ... sometimes ... I don't get to wake up ... you just ... I just ... you know ... it don't take too long to go where I've been ... for me ... been there lot's of times before. Besides ... besides ..." I trail off ... shaking my head, side to side, while fingering the secreted satin hem ... as my legs begin to shiver and shake, while I continue, "... and ... and ... for me or who ever I was ... the end always comes too fast. Now it seems that even my old bad memories are demanding to linger and last forever, while I add a whole lot of bad new ones to them, like now. At least when I wasn't here, alive that is, it was legal to have a good dream.
"If I had met you before today, I ... well ... I used to stutter...a lot...actually...it was so terrible I was afraid to talk. But Astyanax helped me out with that. Go figure. Now it's a struggle for me to just talk natural ... without...without...sounding like some sis...I mean... nerd...you know...all so polite.. prim and proper...all formal and stuff like that.
""And...well I guess you've noticed I have another kind of a problem...well maybe two or three more. Obviously...I need to wear pull-ups ... and ... and ... sometimes diapers at night...o.k. maybe even in the day too...especially if I get stressed out or nervous. I just hope I don't puddle up on the floor right now 'cause the other thing I freak out about is that ... that ...I'm really afraid of girls. Especially since, I look like one, and everyone makes fun of me... well...they've always have and still do...nothing new there. Of course, there's more ... it has to do with the prince and princess part...your smart and can figure that out.
"But...honestly, I've always been alone...like in just me...no...no...other.. well...I'm still a virgin...go figure...afraid of girls and still a virgin...duhh...no...no studying the why or wherefores there either.
"Besides, how can I even begin to tell you how alone I am, right now, I know I've never been this close before...to... to...actually...actually wining? Is that the right word? I thought wining would make me feel good...instead...instead inside...emai koilos...I'm hollow. If wining makes me feel this bad I don't think I want any part of it.
"I mean...I'm really happy for my Mom and Dad too. But... now...now I know that when three of the four that I chose are gonna be born that I'm going to be...be...really all alone. Does that make any sense to you?
"I'm gonna leave me behind. No, that didn't come out right. They're gonna leave me behind so...so...really...I won't have anyone inside to talk with me anymore ... even if they...I mean...they were all me...now...now they'll be gone and I'll...I'll be even more afraid...'cause it means I really won't have anyhone to...this isn't right...I mean why would I go and purposely ruin something that I so desperately wanted? It wasn't a secret to me. I didn't want to hurt your Melina, honestly.
"If there was another way I know I would have done it... but...if I fudged what I did...then...then...I wouldn't feel so great about doing the right thing! What a laugh. Feeling great? Satisfied about the right thing? No. Not at all. Just the opposite. Between the two of us, Melina and I, it's obvious that there have been many hearts broken and scattered about throughout the past.
"Tora...me na kanei to sosto pragma...duo perisotero prosthekete molis. Now...by doing the right thing...two more have just been added.
"As you suggested, I have considered her words, carefully, and I know what she told me, and revealed to no other, was the truth. For what it's worth, that's still her secret. I won't tell. Besides, I might look like a girl but I'm not a bratty tattletale. I mean, why would I? I'm not spiteful.
"Mrs. Agapp, you said that you believed me. Sas efxharistoume...Thank you. For some reason you're a whole lot easier to talk to than...than my M...no... it wasn't her fault if she didn't believe me, but it kinda suc-ks big time. I mean, I always told the truth and got creamed for it. But with you it's different, you said you believed me. I mean if your Melinda lied to you, just from the way you spoke to her I know you didn't intentionally hurt her. I mean like go out of your way to be mean and stuff. So why...was I...always dumped on? I'm sorry ... I'm just kinda thinking out loud.
"Please listen, you repeatedly pleaded with me to return your sweet. Fusika, yia me polu emai athunatos. Physically, for me that is impossible. The one called Melinda, and so named, no longer exists.
"Tos pou etan prin apo exhi allaksei yia panta. Then mboro na teen allakso piso. Who she was before has forever changed. I cannot change her back.
"In this life, until moments ago, she was misrepresented. While you may not have understood many of my newest sister's words, I did. Lupame, forgive me, for now I must lapse to formality.
"What remains for her, Melina, to return to you, is a matter of choice. It is no longer a matter of expediency. The "I" must no longer remain a matter of convenience. Your words, not mine. It is her choice. It is only now that I realize why "I" have been at the center of all this. Do you both understand?
"Mrs. Agapp, I did not ignore your pleas, to the contrary, nor did they fall on deaf ears. You asked me to look kindly at your daughter, I have done more than that and as for leaving her shattered with my words; I would not do so. It will take but four words to soothe her heart, a total of eight to discover herself again. Eposxomai, tha meliso allo enas yea na apokatasteso teen karthia tis. I promise, I will speak but one to restore her heart.
"Mrs. Agapp, please, do not turn around, I have been speaking to both you and Melinda. She is standing outside the door to my room. She never went all the way down the stairs as you asked; or, as I demanded and as Aeron requested. She merely took four steps down and tried to sneak back up to listen. Most sandals make the noisiest sounds. My ears are still as sharp as Elias' ever were.
"Ean e alethea epidthioketai ellikrina, then tha stasso me to dthromo. If the truth is honestly sought, I will not stand in the way. Again, I did not turn a deaf ear; either to your pleas, or to her halting exit.
"Honestly, if I were in her shoes, I would have done the same. That's what I would have done. Melinda, I know you are standing outside the door to my room. You have heard every word.
"If you desire and seek the truth, I will ask you to stay as well. Oh, and please do not try to sneak down the stairs to try to make believe that you are not there. Each step makes its own particular sound, believe me, I would know; counted and listened to each step myself.
"I can even hear you breath, heck, even your sniffles give you away. I promise, I will not say anything else to upset you further. Well, maybe what I have to say will make you cry, but I apologize for that in advance. However, between you and I there is more to be said. Moreover, what is spoken must be face to face: you and me.
"When I asked you just a couple of minutes ago, "Why don't you just turn around, walk down the stairs and run out the door? Why do you remain? Have you not figured out the answer? Melinda, don't just stand there, why don't you, do as three of us have asked? Will you remain as you are? Prepe na eiste panta toso antithetoi? Must you always be so contrary?
"However, for the sake of arguement, your Mother was in error; there is one thing that you can do here for all of us. Listen carefully. Don't leave, I'm asking you to stay and do not leave the packages outside my room. Melinda, when you return, with your first words, you must tell me what you think. Honestly. But you must speak to me first. I'll accept them from you with your Mother's permission of course. You are smart, consider all of my words."
With my last spoken thought to Melinda, Mrs. Agapp casts a quick glance outside my door to confirm her daughter's presence. Mrs. Agapps' slow nodding consent, is couple with her well-presented rhetorical questions, to which she understands, at least from me, do not merit a reply. It is her smile as she begins to speak, which I note. To sumpatho.
I like it.
"Christopher, my child, forgive me, if I may, listen once more to a mother's counsel. It would seem that my part in this has not yet run its course. Indeed you are precient. I will explain in a moment. Sas epistevome yia na kane ta sosto pragma. I trust you to do the right thing.
"Alla prota ... but first ... me epitrepsete ... permit me. You assert that He has peered into your soul, with His Jeweler's Eye. In all the times, he has done so, has He found any imperfection in you? If not, is it not His considered judgment that you are supposed to be as you have been, through these many thousands of years: ena ormorfotero pedi? ... a most beautiful child? Would you deny your own words that you are, "Beautiful, just what I wanted to hear?" Is that consideration not worthy enough to ease your mind as to your appearance? Parakalo, theoreste oti e emfanise sas se Toon enei simantike ke skopime. Please, consider that your appearance to Him is significant and purposeful, if not also pleasing.
"My sweet, you said you will not lie and only will speak the truth. Your very words, "Right Christine, really stylish, lace and satin bows, just what I'd want." You cannot deny that those are your words, for they certainly are not mine. If they were truly your secreted desire, and would soothe you, for the moment, to you, what would be the harm?
"Besides, there is or hidden of you, more than what the sheer pretense or illusion of what is observable to that which, in fact you actually are. Lupame, tha aplaploieso. I'm sorry, I will simplify. An obsevable disguise may be mistaken, and not be entirely understood: unless, the true depth of the disguise is made evident. For the moment, you are dressed as a girl, or more poignantly; by the inference made of you, and so personally taken, through the means of an anagram, a "sissy."
"Lupame, ke then semaina kamia parabvase, alla apo teen emfanise kanenas then tha ixsere ti dthiaphora. I'm sorry, and I mean no offense, but now, by appearance, if seen by another, no one would know the difference. As,to whether you are, male or female. Only you would know. The connotation to you therefore either becomes one of personal derisive recognition or of rejection, be it partial or in total.
"Mono tha xerete teen alethea. Only you would know the truth. Se oli o oloi, pedi mou, tha esaste steen pragmatikoterea, ena ainegma. To all others, my child, you would be, or in fact are, an undecipherable enigma. Este kurios tone lexon; tous xresemopoiete yia to ofelos sas. You are a master of words; use them for your benefit.
"Christopher, beneath your facade is a quite attractive, eye-catching and striking ... neo agori...young boy. That is the truth. You know it as well as all who have seen you as you were born. Of that there may be more said, but, I too have considered your words as well as your Mothers. However, it is not my place to continue on this subject.
"Merikes phores, to gliko mou, ti mbore na amfaistei na enei ackrivos to antitheto. Merikes phores, to gliko mou, ti emfaniszetai na enei letos enei steen pragmatikoteta isxurotero apo sxaluve ke arketa upervolika. Aisthenomei, me se, o opious eiste alethinos. Kreveste polus. Akoma, eistei timioi, isos se ena elattoma. Lupame, I am sorry.
"Sometimes, my sweet, what may appear to be fragile is just the opposite. Sometimes, my sweet, what appears to be delicate is in fact stronger than steel and quite deadly. I feel, with you that is true. You hide much. Yet, you are honest, perhaps to a fault.
"And here take no offense. With the greatest of respect, as was Hector; perhaps, you are a little bit too noble.
"Your Mother's well founded reluctance to allow you to be turned by your, or even your sisters desire of you, to fall in love with the touch of satin or lace, was for the most part, understandable. Oi pio agapestosi, olon ton pullun pragmaton mborete na prospathesete na krepsete, aufto pou then mboreite na krepsete. Dearest, of all the many things you may try to hide this you cannot conceal.
"I would only add, that if it were permitted, I would spoil you myself, be it with the satin and lace you desired, my gifts, or to allow you to futher lose yourself in the lustrous touch of velvet to your skin. Your sister Aeron stated, that you are cute. Little one, you are so much more: delightful, endearing, appealing, adorable, charming and yes, even pretty. There, I have used words to describe a fraction of you. Now, consider, have you taken offense at my description of you? I hope not. Other words come to mind as well: lithe, striking, if only by appearance quit agile, alert, attentive, vigilant, observant, deceptively muscular and well sculpted, perceptive and sharp-eyed. Have you taken offense to these words? I know better. So do you. Yet there is one more observation I will note for you. There is an inner strength-awaiting emergence. When it does, my child, I would truly wager a young nobles ransom, that you would be a most frightening and formidable adversary. Ena polemistes ton tromatikon dunatotetone. A warrior of terrifying abilities. One if he so desired, could destroy another with words alone. Truly, a more frightening counterpart than the one who oppoosed my ancestor.
"Now, if I have upset you, with my descriptions and observations, I apologize. If I have anything else to add, it would be that you would walk with my daughter on this guided tour. If there is a disparaging remark made ... forgive me ... but it has just struck me that for some reason through your repeated lives ... that you have had the strength not to fight...dear child ... while it is an admirable quality...it would seem that the time has come for you to become more than a forlorn chld. Little one, consider my words as I turn my attention, first to your sister, then to your parents.
"Christina, it would seem that you are quite capable of indulging in mischief yourself; you are as beautiful, if not more so, as your brother. You are subtly captivating, yet unkowingly to another, insidiously invasive: a mischief maker of fashion. To what end? I have yet to reconcile that question. However, one thing is certain, that the two of you are individually unique. The mischief both of you could cause together is unimaginable. But then again, I have always treasured the inexplicable. Take care of whom you touch, the results may be of consequence.
"Julia Athena, it is my business to purchase precious gems and continually asses their value. While doing so Julia, it is not only the gems, which I must consider, but also those who would tender them. I must look beyond the obvious and search within for the flaws, which would diminish a gems intrinsic value. It is with the same jaundiced eye, which I must evaluate the dealer. The nuances each has, in my presence, are under my constant scrutiny.
"Julia Athena, I am not a fool. I am not a frightened child whose concerns to date have been of survival or of perpetual loneliness. Moreover, I acknowledge the child's veracity. It is evident that you in the past have not.
"Furthermore, even without my jewelers eye, I can see when a garment is intentionally altered. You have withheld information as well. You have not completed the mediums counsel. By your own statement, it was a purposeful omission. Also apparent, is the significant issue of trust involved, not only between you and your son, but also, between his father and him.
"Forgive my uncalled for observations, but Mr. Markison, does this absence of trust include you as well? When the child looks at you, his eyes take every part of you in, as if measuring his distance from not only your gaze but your grasp as well. Even the breaths he takes alter, as if expecting a coming tragedy not of his own making. Respectfully, by your reticence to become involved in this matter; at least to this point, if ony by appearance, it would seem that, you are at war with yourself over some matter concerning the child. If I am in error, I apologize.
"There is one more matter, of which I will speak. Christopher, I repeatedly pleaded for the return of my sweet. Thankfully, your honesty is beyond what I sought and wished. Minutes ago, I called you precient. I desperately wanted my Melina, my sweet, returned to me, not the misnamed and contrary child with whom I have so arduously contended. You understood. You, my little one, are as discerning and worthy a soul as I have met.
"Mrs. Markison, Julia Athena, I understand your past actions were necessary. But, I would ask that if ony for a brief time, that you indulge the child. There is more to this than mere whimsy. If, by appearance, he must hide behind the natural pretense of a young girl, it must be for a reason. Besides, by your own words, you have painstakingly avoided showing even the slightest hint of favoritism to the child, or should I use the words, additional love. As one mother to another ..."
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"...open your heart.
"Yes, I heard your words to him, as did we all. The child understands words better than you realize. However, Julia, sometimes, a miserly measured and stinted love, is nothing more than a bouquet of flowers: capriciously purchased, easily tendered, cherished for the moment, but soon forgotten after they have withered and died. Some types of love can be the same.
""Julia, sas eipa ego then eimai anonoietos. Julia, I told you I am not a fool. When the child asked if his pull-ups, "etan kokino me to eima" ... "were red with blood," you refused to answer. No, that is not correct, you did reply. But, you spoke cryptically. Your comment, though truthful, assiduously avoided the answer he sought. Why do you prolong the chld's agony with the subterfuge you have promulgated? Akome kaixero teen apantesi emopion tou paedthiou. Even I know the answer before the child does.
"While he gave you what you cherished the most, what have you unconditionally given in return? That is, beyond expectations, just, to do the right thing and nothing more? Julia, to you, I am only a stranger, but even I understand that the little one, who still quakes before us, has tried to instruct you in more than what you had dared to dream. Katalabvendete? Do you understand?
"Only moments ago, he said he now trusts you, while the others he claims to have been, have always trusted in you. That in itself is a contradiction to your logic of how you have engaged him. Unfortunately, to but minutes ago, it would appear you have been an ice queen to the child, if you have only "done the right thing" and nothing more. I will ask you again. Katalabvendete?
"No, there is no need to answer. That is a rhetorical question. The perplexed look on your face is explanaton enough. You do not. Permit me. The truth, Julia, is only that, nothing more nothing less. Einai ena krio gegonous. It is a cold fact. Eiste e eikona kathrefton tis? Are you its mirror image? I will not apologize for my excoriation of you, were you as cold to the child, as his cries have led us to believe?
"If only from my brief observation, the objective hunted, is exactly towards what he has single-mindedly, with an unswerving dedicated passion, has directly guided you towards. It was you he sought, and you, upon, whom he wagered all. Now, he would even sacrifice his victory for you, his, raison-detre, and by doing so, he would be lost to us forever. Despite his concern for his own mortality, his primary concern is to and I quote, "Let you off the hook." Amazingly, from what little I have gleaned from this, your son still maintains his sense of nobility, despite all, quite extraordinary.
"Indeed, there is a matter of trust between the two of you. Of that, I have no doubt. The child has made no eternal pledge to me. He made it to another. Nevertheless, what he would do for me, my daughter, and my family, in appreciation, I pledge to him my respect, and affection. Tha tone prostateva san etan mou dthikoi. I would protect him as if he were my own. That I promise!
"Nor, Julia Athena, did he oblige himself to me. The obligation is mine to him.
"You both may consider my words as insignificant misperceptions, petty and triffling; as well as uncalled for intrusions into your personal affairs. It is not in my nature to succ-umb to social falsities. Besides, even if uncalled for, my participation in this, if only for the sake of my own daughter is necessary. While I am here, I will speak my mind and damn the consequences!
"As a mother, if you have only dealt with the truth, as a mother I have not. Even so Julia, I allowed myself the failing of most mothers. I trusted my child and opened my heart to her. I did not condemn her with my additional love. To the contrary, it was generously given, over the years, and certainly, not measured and withheld until some climatic moment to endear myself to her: as your moving mea-culpa was to your son. If you consider me spiteful and unsympathetic, Julia, your son is a master of rhetoric, in all the words you spoke, he would have all too soon discerned the contradiction. If not for his preoccupation with my pleas, as well as the living image of my daughter, he eventually, even without, the slip of a tongue, would have perceived the inconsistency. Katopeen, pos tha eixhate apokrithei? Then, how would you have responded?
"Aleithos, kinoontan. True, it was moving. But you hoarded the essence of what was called for through many years until now. Julia, I am not speaking of words. Oi lexeis, mboroun na blaspoun, na therapevsoun e na skotosoun. Words may hurt, heal or kill. No Julia, it is not the words, by which the child was motivated. It was the touch of a hand. Your son's words, "The first time ever I got excited over thinking about, about ...." Once again, he halted his measure thought. However, here I shall fill the void for him. Julia that void is but one word ... love. By appearance, it is that which for thousands of years he has been shorn of, and still so desperately needs.
"You gave him three well-presented reasons containing many words. I would wager, you have rehearsed and revised them for years on end. Pos upertoptikos, alaszonikos kai pompodthis na skeptei oti auftos then that katalabvene telika, me aufton ton trop na gyne periphronetikos sas? How condescending, haughty, arrogant and pompous to think that he would not eventually understand, thereby becoming dismissive of you?
"Did you ever consider using but eight instead? For example, "Please, forgive me. I was in error, truthfully."
"If your love for the child goes beyond the truth, does it extend beyond merely doing the right thing? Moreover, will he consider himself an intruder when your other children arrive? When he views your affection towards them, tha ghinei paresakto? ... shall he become an interloper? How shall he, in his own words, "Fit in?"
"If you have looked at love from both sides, as claimed, it is only from your perspective not his. While you understood your failing, have, you ever considered the consequences, beyond what has driven you?
"Ean metera pou exhei upstereixei panta me mia pou einai to antitheto ke mono tora mbriskete sto xhelios tis anupopsiates ekplerosis stis prosefkes this xhalazi mines sas stous ouranous epano apo ta psullaego krios. As a mother who has always contended with one who has been the opposite and only now finds herself on the brink of unsuspected fulfillment to her prayers; your victory hail to the heavens above leaves me cold. Indeed, YOU may have succeeded in your pursuit; but it is the child's hand, which has predicated your accomplishment. Yet it is not only his hand, which has scripted this. All of this is for a greater purpose.
"Even the look in your son's eyes speaks volumes. He understands why he is the center of this.
"Gya tone, then uparsxei kamia dthiaspeui. Exhei pagyidthefte. Piasmenos se ena Isto tone dthiadthosikon zooun stis opoeis kratate tora to kledthee. For him, there is no escape. He has been trapped. Netted in a web of consecutive lives to which you now hold the key.
"I understood his words. As I have stated, it is my nature to observe those whom I deal with, moreover, even the twitch of an ear or the furtive glances between a younger brother and older sister, does not escape my notice. Polu liga. Very little does.
"Now, if you so desire, tell me to go to hell, but smile as you do so because it will be the truth you speak. If not, and I would hope not, then there is little left for me to add except that moments ago your beautiful son asked a favor of me, to remain and speak to both of you, now, after my diatribe, would it be an additonal burden to do so?"
Mothers stunned silence and cautious wagging of her head from side to side, allows Brisa, without her even looking at Dad to continue and as she does, The Gallery of the Gods, in unison, nod their agreement. Brisa continues. But as she does, her eyes focus upon me as she speaks once more.
"Christopher, behaupten Sie zu verstehen. Sie wirklich? Sie erkundigten sich, wie sie, Cassandra, meine Tochter sein konnte. Es wurde scheinen, daB jetzt Sie auf der gegenuberliegenden Seite der Munzesind. Verstehen sie? Werden Sie Stille verwirtt? Der Kreis bleibt welterhin unversehrt. Aber nun, sind Sie, hundert und achtzig Grad von seinem Anfang. Es gibt keine als Rahmen des Hinweises zu verwenden Kerbe. Betrachten Sie den Protagoisten, der Tyrannen sich engagiert. Sie verstehen, wem sprech ich. Ihr Aussehen ist jetzt ein Anhaltspunkt. Wenn meine Tochter die Brucke werden solt, sind Sie der Begrunder von ihr aller.
"Christopher, you claim to understand. Do you truly? You inquired, how she, Cassandra, could be my daughter. It would appear that now you are on the opposite side of the coin. Do you understand? Are you still mystified? The circle still remains unbroken. But now, you, are one hundred and eighty degrees from its beginning. There is no notch to use as a frame of reference. Consider the protagonist who engaged Hector. You understand of whom I am speaking. Your appearance now is a clue. If my daughter is to become the bridge, you are the originator of it all.
"Mr. & Mrs. Markison, forgive my forwardness in this matter alone, but all I have heard from my daughter, have been her continous longings for whom she mistakenly considered your daughter. Regretfully, neither your son nor my daughter has been properly introduced to the other. If it is satisfactory to you both, consent to the introduction."
Without waiting for a reply from either, she continues, but turns her head to the still empty doorway, speaking to Melinda in a tone of voice to which I would not want to be on the receiving end.
"Melinda, listen carefully, hopefully, hopefully, this is the last time I will call you by that name. Three times, you have been asked to leave and each for various reasons. When you return with the packages, do, as you will, the choice is yours. But I promise you this. From this day forward, and each day afterward, if you remain the differing child you have been, I will not need a light to read by in the evening. Your ever glowing behind will do just fine! Tora adtheia! Now leave!"
Elias, Christine and I are in accord. We wouldn't want Mrs. Agapp to blister either of our butts. Astyanaxs' first words ...Uhh Uhh...Kanenas-tropos...Kanenas-pos ... match those of Joachems...Uhh Uhh...Kein-Weise...Kein-wie. They are identical to those thought by us all, "Uhh Uhh...No way...No how."
Before Christine can think of a smart ass comment to make I take the lead and speak to her.
"Christina..
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"...right now, you're thinking about how "sweet" I am or might be about all of this, and how "sweet" it might turn out, thrill me, just think of another set of words. For now, make somebody's day, please, why don't you go and get what you were going to before I stopped you. We both know what it is. By the time you get back, I promise, you won't miss a thing!"
For once, my sister listens to me and doesn't make a scene. No pun intended. As she rushes past Mrs. Agapp, each takes care not to touch the other, though; the eye contact between the two is considerable. Before Christine has completely turned to the right, to begin her brisk walk towards her room, I look at my Dad; and, as I exhale, I appreciate that he may have the roughest part to play. I truly feel unhappy for him.
Melinda's footsteps, down the stairs, are almost coordinated with my sister's quick steps back to her room. The quicker pace downward is noted, as is the tell tale sound of the audible click-clatch of the front door now being turned open followed by the clack-thud low mid-base reverb, of the door being slammed shut as the cylinders cold metallic click, finds its keep.
Christine has made her way back to her room, the sounds of her rummaging through her closet, though heard, are almost lost in her boisterous and increasingly frustrated curses. Her puposeful search has become an expedition of frustration.
The looks on both Mrs. Agapp and Aeron D. are outwardly in accord. Both have faint, almost cryptic smiles.
Mothers face, has lost what joy there was, becoming apprehensive if not fearful and gloomy. Her roaming eye's take in her imposing counterpart, Brisa, while also darting from Dad to me and then back to Brisa then falling back to take in Aeron D. as well. Aeron D. and Brisa exchange the same quick looks to one another. Then, as if on cue, begin the same stone-eyed process from me, to Mother, Mother to Dad, and Dad to me. The looks from each one to another, engaged in by all, is vaguely reminiscent of a past memory, of one who will slap leather first. However, the first to touch will not necessarily be victorious. In the stillness, I consider that for here and now, it is not the singe-action revolver, which will kill, but rather, the single-action of a misspoken word, which may be as deadly; but to whom? Moreover, while it may not be a stray bullet which will harm it very well may be the stray word.
The increasing tension is visible. Mother's hands are trembling as once again she pulls one pen from the smock she wears and the other from her shirt pocket, carefully holding both in her left hand; obviously understanding that she awaits the thirds arrival. Though trying her best to appear relaxed, for her, now, that is impossible. The hazed closet mirror she glances into cannot mask the droplets of sweat, which now begin to bead upon her forehead. Nor can it shroud her increasingly labored breaths. The truth has become indisputable; it is no lonter a shield, which she may hide behind. Painfully, she holds the key. But does she know what must be done to unlock the net in which we both are trapped? I knew I hated fish for a reason. The question has been posed, has she been schooled, or shall her private iciness hold sway? Again, my silent prayer for her is one word, "Please." Brisa has given many clues, as has Aeron, but so has Mother. If one is the mirror image of the truth, which one is it trapped within the looking glass. The image is real, but from within, looking out, what it perceives , is the opposite. Now the thought is also clear that my observation to Melinda was sound. I am not the opposite side of the coin, but rather the true face of it all.
For the several moments that all stand and eye each other it becomes evident to me what must occur. As I too look into the same mirror I consider that, this time, I will not yield without a fight, no, not this time. Yet, I must be soft-spoken and synergistic. Moreover, be as intrepid and sagacious as both Aeron D. and Brisa, would expect of me. It is my obligation to them, now, I really do care what they feel about me, and in return, I feel affection towards them for it. Both would be proud of me. I have arranged and used the words to my advantage.
Further losing myself in thought, my mirror image continues to stare blankly back. The bows and earrings are still in place. For some reason, even with the hastily applied make-up on him they appear...passable, yet inconsistant, if only for the all too observable earring clips. I realize that now, after having called him the name he dreads, that he is the fearful one trapped in the mirror, not I. Individually, I would leave him behind for dead. However, pragmatically, that too is not even a short-term option. The one ensnared within the mirrors confines can figuratively die alive for some time. I acknowledge that for some reason, he will be necessary, but that over a period, he will be assimilated. Truthfully, a cold-hearted thought, but logical. Both Aeron and Brisa's thoughts were sound, but I have adapted each counsel to suit my needs and desires. There is no derisive recognition, only a provisional acknowledgment that I can live with.
Dammit! This formality crap is getting to me! O.K. If I have to look like a girl...no...that ain't right! My sister looks like me. I sure as hell know that I don't want'a be a ditsy air-head, she's not! But damn it, why am I so fricken "proper?" I'm gonna get pounded royally if this keeps up! Why can't I just think normal like? Brisa said this was, "All for a greater purpose." Black and blue bruises ain't my idea of purposeful body art! I was giving Christine a rash of crap for it...now it's getting worse with me! What the h..."
"Gotcha!...Finally! are the two shouts by which Christine interrupts my mindset. Sarcastically I quip to myself, a clear case of "boisterous interruptus." The colorful metaphors she shouts are equal to the similie, as she begins to throw some of the stuff back into her closet, that she had quickly pulled them out of.
The three within reprimand me: I have ended my thought with a preposition, my solitary reply, "Bullshit!"
Even through the walls, her words can't be missed. Each successive thump on the wall is married to a loaded similie or two. "Damn worn out fk'n high heels...get...ugh...the f'k...back...uhhh...in...ugh...there! Ohh my fk'n
...jees...us...carap of...yukk...a pink ass...dragging...my butt down...backpack!...was always a royal piece of...worn...get...out!....of my...crap...way! What!!! pee euuu...to hell!...whha...are...with these...tangled...up!.... uhh godda...t-what wadded panties!...ggggrosss...me to the max....out!...doing here?!! Damn son of a...falling down...bitch...hanger! I ...can't...dammit!...son of a...stay where the hell...worthless...I mean it...dammit...stay...where I...hung...YOU!!
She goes on. But, here and now, why bother. It's more of the sort of stuff some really p.o'd girl might say if she had a mind too. Least I would anyway. That is, if I was one, in my mind I mean. At least she's offered some comic relief.
Anyhow, if this were a race, Christine would have blown it. In her haste to get back to my room she trips over her "lovely" pink backpack that she had dug out from the cavern she calls her closet. I mean it'd make five of mine. Girls have all the clothes and stuff they want and still complain that they don't have anything to wear. Am I being catty or envious? Go figure. Anyhow, before she takes a header to fall nose first onto the floor, she regains her balance while at the same time, downstairs, the slam of the front door announces Melinda's raucous return. Of course Christine attempts the obvious and tries to kick her wonderous backpack back into the closet. "TAKE THAT!" she screams, as her toes hit the still heavy offending member. Her shouts of pain now meld with Melinda's not so dainty footsteps as they come tromping up the stairs. If either is ticked, neither attempts to hide it. As for Melinda, I can't blame her either. If Brisa said she was gonna turn ecologically friendly, by making my butt glow in the dark, I think I'd have to tighten up the butt muscles as well!
As fate would have it, Melinda's last step from the staircase ends up in disaster. Of the purposeful and emphatic entrance she might have made, she instead finds herself sprawled face down on the hardwood floor entry to my room. Four seperately gold foil gift-wrapped packages, complete with white satin ribbons and bows precede her embarrassing, less than graceful appearance; all followed by a significantly larger, but plainly wrapped box, which skids to a halt beside them.
To my surprise, Brisa, maintains her position, and by her own inaction and stolid appearance, without a word, forces Melinda to gather herself as well as the scattered packages. While words are not exchanged, the looks between the two are enough. Mrs. Agapps' looking down at her daughter, is one of expectation: unequivocal and unconditional. I have seen that stare before and its meaning is clear. Screw up one more time and your so totally mine!
Melinda is, looking up. Well ... maybe. Her face is one of apprehension and dread. I empathize with her. Will the ice hold my weight? Will I freeze first or drown? Or both? Will it hurt much when I hit the ground? Why am I falling in slow motion? When the knife is forced to the hilt, will I cry? Will I make it to the shelter before the wolves have found me? Don't think so. Yes, I understand that look well, too well.
With as much poise and self-control as manageable she has studiously avoided looking into my room; and, in the midst of as much mental calm as one may expect, gathers the packages. Her attempts at regaining total composure are noticeably less than successful. During her face forward fall, the rear of the short white skirt she is wearing has lurched up and forward, coming to rest up over her butt; exposing her lavender laced trimmed pink panties. The telltale form, of what she wears beneath them is conspicuous. As she stands the back of the skirt clings to the small of her back.
I control my desire to smack my lips, well almost. But I cannot escape the purposeful gulp as I stare at the situation, which now presents itself. I close my eyes whispering but two words, "ohh ... Jeez."
It is from Christine's perspective that I now look down towards Melinda's humiliated face. In tears and unknowingly further shamed she regains her stance. As she begins to stand, her tearing eyes have lead her head to the motion of my sister's feet that now stop to stand in front of her. Christina thankfully uses good judgement. She makes no contact. There is no need. Even without the touch of her hand, I know what is going through Melinda's mind.
Cautiously, Christine edges past both Melinda and Mrs. Agapp with the sought after object firmly gripped in her right hand. Without hesitation, her first thought is to present it to me. With eyes closed and without prompt, I refuse.
"Christine, what you theorectically "found" at Meadow Watch and have hidden in your backpack until now, was not by chance. We both know why the eagle landed to face up with you. He clawed it from the earth, for me." I open my eyes to look at Christine, and continue, "Not you. We are mirror images. I do not look like you. You look like me. It is for that reason, he allowed you to take the pictures of him for me. What Elias supposedly lost over two hundred and fifty four years ago once belonged to Edwina A. Worthington. In fact, it was never truly lost; its location was always known, but not to man. Aeron Deryn, also known as Krystal, said, Think of Aquila. There in shall hold the key."
"There in," it laid waiting. For you, "shall hold the key." What a simply complicated and perfectly turned phrase. The eagle held the key, as does my once similarly named sister. What you hold Christine is now Mothers, give it to her. The remainder of this riddle is hers to solve."
Mother's now bewildered look is logical. As she holds her breathe, it is with significant consideration, that she accepts what Christina holds. She neither smiles nor grimaces. She simply stands alone, eyeing the two pens in her left hand, while ever so slightly fingering the still soiled third in her right, between thumb and first finger.
Her looks to me are simple enough to understand. She is at a loss. The twists and turns of the paradigm have left her emotionally wrought and crushed. She is so near and yet so far.
With a forced smile, Christina acknowledges my nod and gesture to occupy her former seat on my bed. For now, she has played her part. Her Theatre of the Absurd is about to enter its finale. My gentle whisper to her is simple, "Christine, don't worry."
Melinda begins to walk towards me. But, Brisa, with her left hand, firmly grasps her around the waist and begins to speak. "Oxi. Prepei na pareimenete. Kratiste tis skepsis sas kai proeidthopoieitai epises. H olithese mias glossas tha telelione mia psuxhi. Parte teen prosexhi poiu then einai dthikos sas. No. You must remain. Hold your thoughts and be forewarned as well. The slip of a tongue would end a soul. Take care it is not yours."
While sympathetically lowering the back of Melinda's skirt with her right hand, as a mirthful afterthought and with eyes focused on me, she concludes, "En toutois, aufto tha emphanizotan oti einai e parthenia sas poiu einai sti megalefteri dthiakeendthunefse, apo teen psuxhi sas." "Though, it would appear that it is your virginity which is in greater jeopardy, than your soul."
My spontaneous response is to shrug my shoulders and demurely grin in embarrassment while I mutter to myself, "What an utterly amazing lady." My slight nod of acknowledgement to Brisa is returned with a knowing smile.
It is then that, as gently as I can, turn towards Mom and begin, "Mother, ..."
-
"just moments ago, you and Mrs. Agapp exchanged glances. Actually, you both tried to stare each other down. She was as dismissive of you, as you were formally indifferent to what she accurately perceived your actions to be, toward another: namely me. Both of you are dissimilar as opposite sides of a coin, yet both of you are individually inimitable. In a few moments, I shall drive the point home. Bear with me.
"But importantly, something else is troubling you. You did not wash your hands and symbolically absolve yourself of the matter. You have all but fulfilled your obligation. Moreover, it is apparent that you are free from Quillons judgement. You hold the three pens, and they are almost, brought together. I am happy for you. Yet, you do not appear to be satisfied. Is there something lacking? Shall I continue?"
Mother's hesitant nod of "Yes," affords me the opportunity.
Elias' giggling witticism is profound. "You can lead a horse to water, but a pencil must be lead." It merits no reply.
"But now, there is more which bothers you. We both know what it is. The mediums words still are of concern to you: and only now do you realize that those words exclusive of the paradigm were equally as important and significant as the paradigm itself.
"It has occurred to you that, the one-sided bargain, you noted, lamented and have become familiar with, was mine. Only minutes ago, you paused and asked to reconsider a point. The point you questioned and which remains unanswered, concerning your cruel actions towards me, were they yours or prompted? Mother, they were both. If I had not forced your hand, you would have failed. By Authority, I cannot force that which by consent is or may be freely given. As I said before, I truly believed you; you played the part well. I would do and have done everything to ensure your success. The end justified the means. I chose you for a reason. Unknowingly to you it served both of our needs. I knew you would not fail the others and me. I would not allow it. Mine was the pat hand.
"The truth, Mother, is sometimes cruel: cruel but true. Mother, you have always spoken the truth, but all too often, only the truth, nothing more. Regrettably, what you most often left unsaid hurt even more. Permit the analogy: you are but one side of a coin, the face of it.
"I will explain further.
Mother, the exact words of the medium as relayed within the paradigm are, "The pen before you is the last of three, when all are together, from Quillons judgment, shall you be free." What you hold in both hands is now all but a cold fact. When touched together, as stated, you shall avoid Quillons fearsome judgment, but for now, to this moment, only that will you escape. You are concerned, and rightly so.
"Please, consider her other words, which followed. "The pen is yours. Keep it always close, its well is without end, unless through your actions, all the innocents are condemned. There in shall hold the key."
"Mother, she instructed you to remember her words. You did. But you did not understand them. Respectfully, your reasoning was as blemished as the mirror into which you have stared. The pen is and always has been yours and devotedly, you have kept it physically close. Both points are factual. However, more importantly, the facts are wanting, and in need of further thought.
"Consider the remainder of the statement, "...its well is without end, unless through YOUR actions, all the innocents are condemned;" here in lies a portion of your misinterpretation. Listen to me, follow closely, and consider an additional portion of her guidance. "He has chosen you. Why? Because all others had failed him; and of all the selections available: he believes you will not."
"I shall explain the last portion first. Failure is simply that. It is not success. It is the opposite. Truthfully, it is a disappointment, a letdown, an unsatisfactory end or a collapse. Condemned, Mother, is destined to be damned, judged ill fated and predestined to occur regardless of one's actions. You misunderstood the meaning of her words. Again, I believed you would not fail for a reason: I would not allow it. I held my belief in you to be true.
"Now, before you reply, think carefully. Consider her other words, all of them, which you detailed, but which she excluded from the paradigm. Specifically, "No, it was not a "damned sentence," but YOUR thoughts may be prophetic. But, that is for YOU to decide." YOURS is the free will, that of choice. All consequences accrue to you, be they good or bad, but then again, success is in YOUR hands. If YOU disown the matter, it is a conviction of the innocents," in essence, condemnation. Did you truly believe that the opportunity to disown the matter was subject to merely one purposeful single-action?
"Just now, as you looked into the mirror, what did you see, besides the obvious? Why have you now purposely switched the soiled pen to your left hand? But more importantly, why have you likewise moved one of the pens from your left to your right? I apologize, another rhetorical question.
"The clue Mother is not tangible nor is it visible.
"You believe that two of the three pens, which you hold in your left hand are dry and that the third, which you now hold in your right, as of now, is not. That is the truth. As of now, that is what you believe. You believe it to be the truth because one pen, yours, still writes. You acknowledged the fact. The other, Freida's does not. Why doesn't it? Of course Mother, that is another question, which I will answer for you. In your rushed first attempt to use it, you supposed the well dry, and so it was. The third, Edwina's, is old and still soiled, therefore, logically to you, it too would fail as well. That is what YOU truly believe.
"Look in your hands and remember her words, as do I. The shadow spoke the words, "Success or failure is truly in YOUR hands." Mother, you do not understand the why and wherefores of her statement: that is, beyond what you have long considered to be the truth of the matter. Now, the first portion of your misunderstanding can be explained.
"Failure, to hold the pen close, was not a condemnation. If it were, neither Elias nor Joachem would now exist. She did not allude to the tangible. The physical key is in your hands but to you, intangibly, it must be turned within its keep, from somewhere else. Mother, "There in shall hold the key." I pause to look at Brisa, and then continue.
"That is the other side of the coin, which has now figuratively come forward and has slapped you in the face. Wisdom may tender and give way to understanding and affection.
"Do you understand? If not, without a word, I shall start again."
There is only silence. I smile as I move on, while musing that the trough in which she stands is noticeably shallower than before.
"Additionally, for you, Mother, at Cassadaga, there was no need to engage in the formality of knocking to bid entry. Through me, what long ago cursed had been invited to meet with her again. What was once lost, was now found. I led you, the truth, by the hand to once again, sit before her.
"Truth is not a synonym for wisdom. In its purest form, it stands alone, accepted as is and nothing more. What it lacks, value, must be determined, thereby becoming a conveyance of preferred acceptability. To her, you have always been the preferred.
"As for Aeron Deryn, she is Algonquin, mostly. Algonquin means, "They are family or allies," she held the key to the entrance. There was no need for one who held the key or who was family to knock to gain entry. She was more than welcomed to enter."
The only sound made and heard by all is the noise of the air register as it begins its task. Mother moves to stand beneath it. I trust that her veneer of ice shall fall as well. I continue.
"Mother, as you sat at the table, to receive your reading, the silohuette cast upon the screen was an additional enticement to you.
"Symbolically what she presented to you was a living metaphore. It was the "Allegory of the Cave." It is the cave in which several men are chained together in complete darkness. All those who were shackled in the cave, could only see the shadows cast upon the caves wall by a single fire. Inside the cave, only the shadows seen on the walls were their living reality. That is, until one escaped into the sunlight, and then he understood that the shadows were merely illusions and not reality. He had found the truth. The simile was "An impressive suggestion for the dramatic."
"If you will, my scrawled message was but a paraphrase of a thought by my former lecturer.
"May I?" Once again she nods, but with her slightly parted lips and now opening eyes, appears to hold her breathe, as she does. I understand. She soon will.
"Mom, the ...
-
"... two pens in your left hand, by appearance are identical, except that the third, which you have just received, remains coated with the dirt from Meadows Watch. The other, in your right, is not so easily distinguishable. Yet, it is the one, which you have relentlessly kept physically close. Please listen.
"Imagine that the third has been cleaned, and once again shining as bright as the other two. Then place it upon a table, and mix it with the other two: now, all appear identical, and given but one choice, with no reconsideration given to your first touch, if souls were the wager, which pen would you, select? Keep in mind that you would never again have a second opportunity to decide. Which is the one pen whose well had not run dry?
"There is no slight of hand and neither of the pens is hidden beneath a shell. All are seen clearly. Once again, Mother, a rhetorical question is posed, and of course, I will answer for you. Please, pursue the reasoning closely and please, listen closer to my every word.
"The pen you have just acquired is, the last of three, but it was the first pen lost. The pen presented to you, by the medium, was the last of three, but it was the first you acquired. The second you wagered upon has always been so. Obviously, your consideration of the "last" word was in error. Once more, you misconstrued her words. The word was not synonymous to condemnation. It did not mean failure or death. It was simply that, the last pen ever to be given.
"Now consider the analogy, that each of us, Elias, Joachem and myself are each a pen. Mother, if you theorize that only one pen will write, what will YOU do with the others? Shall you discard them or push them away because you do not believe in them? If you selected Joachem, would you condemn Elias and me? Alternatively, if you chose me, you would certainly condemn Joachem even after you professed and felt love for him. Mother, "If you disown the matter, it is a conviction of the innocents." Herein lays the crux of the matter. Right now, if YOU were to wager all on your decision, would YOU still claim the results as "just deserts?" I gave you the answer, years ago. My thought to you, was in her additional words, "...it is not what I want YOU to do; but rather, it is what YOU will yourself to do."
"Truthfully, up until this moment, it is what you have not allowed yourself to do which concerns you and me. Is it your will to still do only what is necessary? I have wagered all on you, what have you wagered: your belief in just deserts? If so, regretfully, as of now, they will not be sweet.
"When you replied, "Yes...I'm in," to Gina, did you grasp how prophetic your words would be? Alternatively, could be?
"Mother, additionally reflect upon your middle name and that of Christina and as you do so, consider as well Edwina's middle initial. Of course, now, you obviously must and are considering Freida's as well. After all, though you did not state it, I know it too. Forgive me for smiling, but, in the mediums own words, "Yes, it is more than sheer circ-umstance." All of them Mother are ... identical. Is that considered, irony? Most certainly, ironic, it is not.
"For you, here and now, it logically must follow that the mediums conclusion must be addressed. "Take care Julia Athena, for the little one is most precious, for ages past his thoughts I knew, and now will hold him dear. He is the key, the reason I am here. If you would fail, my anger would be great, thought Quillon may indeed be Fearsome; my wrath would have no end: and it would be but the beginning."
"Again, I would caution you Mother. If you will, the word...fail...was qualified...referring not only to that of Quillons fearsome judgment, but also, if you were specifically to fail her: personally. However, while it is not a condemnation, for you, her rage and anger would be terrible, ageless, inescapable and never ending. Truthfully, it is a dismal and foreboding vision. I fear for you.
"Now, to put it gently, while not being sarcastic, you are again discontent, but why? For so many years, you have treated me with coldness and all too often considered my thoughts as lies; heartlessly heard and acted upon with a callousness that still baffles me. What has happened to the truth, which you, at one time in the past,long ago,so attentively harbored? Instead of gentle candor and loving forthrightness, you have, even up until now, managed to lace the bare truth to suit your ends. Why?
"Before I was born, I had obligated myself to you and your needs. Now, looking into your eyes, they are empty, and you still do not understand. Metaphorically, you still stand: but you stand alone. Perhaps...that will change. But to do so, I must pursue the end from another and especially distateful digression.
"Christine relayed your recently stated desires of me to "get a life," these desires are absurd. Obviously, I have had more lives to deal with and remember than you have even dared to consider. More to the point, you would have forced an illogical conclusion of who I actually am as opposed to who you desired me to be or become. Even your unprompted explanation to my alleged quandry concerning the phraseology of "Old Sisyphus" was less than frank. Do you consider me as dim-witted?!
"Mother, what transpired between the two of us is termed Socratic irony, I knew him too! He was my lecturer's teacher. Truthfully, they both knew me as well. Forgive my giggles, but long ago, both were renowned and celebrated: I had been schooled by the best.
"Nevertheless, what you glaringly left unstated was the obvious, that the singular most derisive term for an effeminate looking boy, in the world today, is a ... sissy. It was a purposeful omission, which hurt even more than if you had spoken the word.
"By today's absurd standards of acceptability that use of the word, by you, to describe me, unquestionably would also have condemned us both. Thankfully, for some reason, at least that much you appear to have recognized.
"I cannot help but think that I am less to you than the sum total of who I was or have become. That in itself is enough to make me cry. If that is what you desired you have almost succeeded. From this moment on, a far as you are concerned, I will not cry out, nor, will I shed a tear! Will that meet your requirements if I swear to do so!?
"Mother! Don't turn your eyes away. Look at..ME...damn it!
"My appearance has not changed in over three thousand seven hundred years. I categorically deny that I am anything but what I am.
"Even you said I was beautiful. Actually, you said minutes ago I looked "genuinely pretty." Same difference! So what am I to conclude? Thanks to both Mrs. Agapp and my newest sister, I have come to terms with my appearance and now fully understand my presence here. But do you?
"No! Do not reply. At this time, it would be wiser for you to hold your tongue. While Quillons judgment may by Authority be Fearsome, my judgment by Authority would be eternal, for both of us. I told you I could do more, much more. I have had no desire to wound, kill or destroy. To the contrary, I sought the opposite. Yet now, if necessary, from this moment on, I will. The young boy will not live longer than the young man to be. I have solved that riddle!"
Aeron D. returns my quick glance towards her with wide-eyed astonishment. Accompanying her deep, and startled inhale, she slowly motions me to calm myself by gently motioning several times with her extended right hand: palm down. As she shakes her head, from side to side, she again cautions me. But while the words are almost identical to those she spoke to me concerning Melinda, her tone of voice is markedly harsher and admonishing.
"Gishpin gii inaakonige maji-izhiwebiziwin misgawaa-gwayakonaagozi giib annawaadizi! (If you make such a judgment, ill tempered, even though appearing to be correct, you will be in the wrong! Gagwaanisagadamig baataa! A terrible mistake! Gii gashkendamide'e gaagige! You will grieve forever!")
"Before I can reply, Mrs. Agapp intercedes and vies for my attention. "Christopher, my little one, you would lose everything with an empetuous word or action. Speak your mind but do not judge hastily. There are some things, of which you are not aware. As I stated to your Mother, I am not a fool, but then again, some mothers may act so, for reasons, which are not evident: that would include me as well. Restrain yourself.
"Please, calm yourself. I understand the reasons for your bitterness. Of the many things long denied you, my sweet child, it is the intangible losses, which hurt most. Again, I remind you to consider the warrior who engaged your ancestor. You and h..THEOS MOU! MELINDA! Ean tolmeisete na kinethete alla mia insta apo apou stekeste orkizomai oti that sas timoreso xoris eleos gyia tis psuxhis eseis tha exhane! Stasetei akoma kai kleismenos epano! (MY GOD. MELINDA! If you dare to move but one inch from where you stand I swear I will punish you without mercy for the souls you would lose! Stand still and shut up!)
Melinda's slight movement towards me abruptly halts. What is evident, besides the opened mouth and glaring shocked look on her face from Brisa's shouted warning, are the quick drips, which begin to expand onto themselves into the widening puddle on the hardwood floor, between her legs. All she can do is to turn around and cry as she buries her head on her Mothers chest. I feel dreadful, especially for her. The pained look upon Mrs. Agapps' face speaks volumes, as do the tears in her eyes. As she cuddles the now sobbing Melinda closer, I focus my attention once more on dearest Mother.
"Mother, Mrs. Agapp said she was not a fool, nor am I the fool you have treated me as. Truthfully, the first time I was born, it was at night, but it was not last night: nor, was it a mere twelve years ago. If I sound bitter, it is because of you, believe it!
"Most certainly, my first life's memories and the havoc, of what I have relayed to you, of Astyanax and of Fathers involvment, hold a second and thoroughly more significant meaning. But I will preface the obvious, for you, with a salient although lost obscurity. Did you ever for a moment, consider, that even while Astyanax had not drawn blood in battle, that I was not schooled in the art of war? My father taught me much and I would have been feared even more than he in battle. I was an honored warrior's son and died a young warrior's death, honorably.
"If I am cynical and contemptuous now what difference, does it make to you? After all, it should come as no suprise to you what I will say next. You have all but deduced the obvious, the medium knew of me, as did Mathew Daniel who was in Harmony with Him as did my guardian Angel. All knew except for you. Besides, if you have not already inferred but a portion of the obvious, permit me.
"The medum is the one who counseled Astyanax, or, if you prefer, me. She was my first Guardian Angel. Truthfully, among them all, she was ... the First.
"Only now do you begin to understand the significant implication. Mother, I too, am part of the Legend of the Eagle: but a much greater part; for to her, I was the ...
-
Herald. My presence, then, to her, was the pronouncement of what was to occur. Without prompt, I became both the Messenger, and the omen, the augury of what was to be. To her, I became portend, representing the certainty, of what would result. She knew my thoughts - all of them. Do you understand?
Mother's slight but hesitant nod of yes precedes her reply. "Christopher, my darling son, I understand all too well, but the question posed is more important to you. Do YOU fully understand? I fear not.
"Yes," is my terse reply, "I understand what happened! When Astyanax and I met for the first time, it was the goddess of wisdom, and of warfare, the arts, and industry, of justice and skill, who stood by his side; and counseled him.
"Immediately, she understood that the wandering spirit did not reside within the confines of Olympus; but more importantly, that the eagle which met me at that time, was, of even greater importance then to all concerned.
"Mother, inadvertantly, the eagle and I both represented a more important concept, of which she understood the totality, and that consequently, she would fall away, and sleep for ages. To explain the obvious, I would appear arrogant, conceited, or perhaps haughty and egotistical. That never was or is my nature. Looking then, as I do now, do I appear so harmless and innocuous? Who could ever, or would believe, that my appearance is anything other than gentle, tender or submissive? To another, to do so, would be ... was fatal?"
Mother nods one time and replies, "Yes, Christopher I believe you. I believe as well, that those qualities were never your nature nor that they will ever be. But have you considered that those qualities may have been the nature of another? Consider my question while I speak to Mrs. Agapp.
"Brisa, I know your heart is well intentioned: and that you would protect him as your own, thank you, but he is still my son, not yours. What you have asked him to consider is more than significant, and holds a deeper meaning, to him, yet to be made evident. Instead, if you wish, help your daughter, go to my room, it is down the hall to the left, inside my walk-in closet on the second shelf to the right, within a blue plastic bin, are various pull-ups and diapers. Use whatever you need for Melinda's problem. When you return, please bring an additional pull-up for Christopher. He will need it.
"And please, contain your additional sense of devotion, until my son has come to accept the truth of the darker secret, which has guided him and your daughter to one another. Your presence here is not by inadvertent chance. I promise there will be no word games from me to blind him or you from what shall become known: and Brisa, the introduction you so formally requested, consider my consent as cheerily given. But, keep in mind, that I will not tell you to go to hell, as you have asked, even if it is how I truthfully feel."
Mother turns her now steadfast attention towards me, to prod once more. "Christopher, please forgive me, but it is Astyanax who must answer." Without pause, she continues. "Astyanax, when Troy's mightiest protector and warrior fell it was by single combat against the mightiest of the Greeks; Achilles. This is a portion of the legend, which, through Christopher, you have just relayed to us and have accepted as fact. Moreover, Brisa has buttressed your recollection. If true, a simple nod will suffice."
We nod in agreement, and as Mother continues, Brisa's movement towards Mothers room abruptly halts. Softly, she whispers to Melinda, "Sweetheart, go and change yourself, then return with another pull-up, but hurry."
Mother never falters, with her additional inquiry, but this next question is asked of Elias. Gently she entreats, "Elias, when you spoke of the wars between the ancients, when this portion of the fable was told, did you relay it in the same manner; and accept it as such? Please, do not charge to the answer but consider my next question. Christopher, is there an untold and darker truth hidden which lurks unaware?"
For the several silent moments that we reflect, the newfound thought becomes overwelming. Silently, we stammer at the implications.
Barely audible we murmur, "The recitation ... the recollection ... a ... mistake? A darker truth, has been disguised and kept from us.
"No ... I am not a ... ohhh no. I never ... until now ... so ... so ... how could they ... they knew? But ... but ... She? Why ... would ...? Aeron? Mrs. Agapp? But if it was not Father? Mother you understand all of the corrolaries? Why? That would make ... me ... no ... Her!? That can't be true ... can it? Which is the worse?"
While Mother tries to shush me, I will not take her cue. Instead, the now rudderless ship I liken myself too, begins to sink within the whirlpool of contradictions now forced upon me.
"No. Mother wait. It must be you, first, the issues, which Mrs. Agapp has noted, concerning me, those you have left unsaid; still linger. Then again, the uncertainties I now have are growing greater, especially where Dad ... and ... and ... Her ... is, I mean are, concerned; but ... but ... Her. It is Her! Her words appear to have predicated both of your actions. But, then again, by involvement, mine? Logically, one must consider that there are at least two, yet, related causes.
"The most obvious, concerns the incomplete reading you have mentioned, the second and all other actions, would stem from it, I mean Her. The first is your secret or is the greater secret ... Hers? But if, if the secret were Hers, then ... the conditions under which all have been influenced have been altered; furtively. The remainder, besides your inexplicable actions, which vary from one extreme to the other, appear linked, but why? Only Fathers actions or lack thereof, for some reason, seems to be consistent. But, if he were the only constant that would be illogical. I too have been an invariable.
"No ... all questions must be solved in turn. Mother, you are first. You must be first! All remaining questions must then be addressed in turn.
'For example, the sewn hemline of satin into what I am now wearing. You knew how I would react. Why did you do it? Why tease me? Why did you continually tease me with snippets, the bits and bobs, of smiles, when you had me wear girls' clothes? At times I thought, at last, for some reason, you were being kind, then BOOM!!! Just the opposite! You were always teasing me! A kind word here or there, coupled with a gentle thought, along with a concerned or tender touch there, but always, always, followed with implications, which left me wondering. Why ... were you, always ... why ... were you leading me on? "Even a couple minutes ago, the ohh so wonderful soliloguy about loving me was, inexorably, for the most part coupled with what would happen to you, if you failed. You would be shattered? Perhaps. Yet, your primary concern, in the end, from what you have stated, has always been your own welfare. You, could not choose one, over the other, why not? Why to you, had love become a four-letter word; which you have so personally hurled towards me, to what end? You said it became your honor to champion me. I would have been honored , if you had nobly failed, in my behalf. Mother you said you never stopped loving me, true. Actually, you never stopped loving the thought of me, of what I represented, that is what you were in love with, but otherwise, you all too often, coldly disregarded what you first literally held at times in your hands: me. But then again - you - you were not ... no ... not the first. Another held my life ... yet ... it was the thought, was it not?
"No! Why should I consider ... Her? Only moments ago, I described you as the face of a coin. Maybe, I was in error. Instead, I should have labeled you other wise. You are two faced; the first is smiling but cold, the next, becoming a sneering wicked witch! Did someone ever really drop a house on you? Right now if I could, I would! You were right, I thought it before, but now I said it to your face! Damn it! Wait! The first is smiling but ... two faced?
"Besides, how stupid and dumb do you think I am? The various baby plastic pants you keep on dribbling out for me to wear, coupled with those lame excuses, like "I couldn't find your powder blue ones" are so much horse crap! They're so glaringly different that the question presents itself again. Why? First off, I had never worn anything like those before! Did you for a second think that I took the bait you dangled in front of me, and that it wasn't meant to humiliate and make me feel bad? But ... I ... recognized ... the smile it ... it didn't go with the face ... but who's ... yours?
"B ... b ... besides, even a fool could've guessed that you had a fresh stash of this crap stuffed or hidden somewhere in the walk-in closet of your room. I'm NOT a baby and most all of you contrived excuses were just so much childish bullshit!
"But you somehow knew about the butterflies before I did and had me wear everything you could with 'em on 'em. Even Christine was in on that! So how'd you ... you... know?
"My bathrobe got torn up and ruined in the wash; don't think so! For some reason, you ... you wanted to switch it out on purpose! So what the hell are you trying to prove!? You know I told you before to get out of my room and leave me alone! What's the point with you?
"How innocent and gullible do you think I am to accept your continued lame and dimwitted excuses? But more to the point, how much longer do you think I'll continue to even want to be here or even want to be around you? Am I gonna be better off dead than worry about how you keep on screwing with me?!
"As an afterthought, I would re-ah-re-remind you, what you k ... kept on telling me when you kept wailing the ever-loving dog crap out of my blistered butt for what you said were lies, and when I told you that what you were doing to me wasn't fair. Y .. you remember, don't you? Of course you do, I'll repeat the words for you. Wouldn't want you to stress out any more than what you ... you are already. You said, "First, whoever said l...l..life was just or fair did not understand the cold truth;" and that "If they lied, a second time, they deserved what happens to them."
"As for deserve, I understand that deserve has nothing to do with this. For the same reason, as far as I am concerned, you have not reconciled the just deserts, what you truly deserve, for your previous pledge.
"Mother, I said that I understand and trust you. Truthfully, what you are and have always been to me is that, the ccc...cold truth, nothing more: and ... and ... as of now, it is only that much I believe and trust in. At one time, I believed I would have liked you more than what I should have and wanted to be closer to you, maybe it wasn't what I deserved but I thought, I thought, that with you, it would be, or could be more.
"You stated that what I have been would end. That's cool. I believe you. No big whoop there! Been there, done that, so, what else is new? Besides, how do you know what the hell I fear the most? I knew the pen still wrote, even without you telling me! It has royal blue ink; everything you write is with that pen! Every day, it's sort of like your first daily check up to see if, that for some reason, you really haven't screwed yourself! Even a son like me can tell when his mother is chronically obsessive! I've been dead before and soon will be again. Tell me something I dont know, why don't you!?
"Your never satisfied and always trying to trick me into a disadvantaged position by agreeing to distinctly one-sided, sugar coated, deals to make yourself feel ohh so super cool and smart: mother superior! You were always trying to snooker me. Was it for a reason? Do you think I didn't notice that you ... you always had to bid the game higher and that.. that for some reason you have always played word games with me?
"O.K. to you the bid is now seven hearts no trump! Do you understand? Care to bid it higher, but keep in mind, that, the bid, if doubled or raised, will be, to you, all in spades. You must take every trick!
"Don't shake your head as if your're surprised. Happily, you've played your games, now Mother, it is almost time, to play mine; it's but a segment of my sleepy time song. Won't you play it with me? Since yours is the freedom of choice, that's what She said, the decision to play is yours first, or, to decide, do you require a second more? So? Decide. A simple yes or no may be all you need.
"Look back towards the mirror, the sissy in it, the one that you have teased and almost up to now avoided, will even curtsy, to you, prior to my recitation. Of course, I'm rubber and your glue, whatever you say ... well ... you know the rest.
"Then Mother, your wager, as to just deserts, upon the very second of your choice, will be paid in f...f...full, all that and more! Oh, please Mother, play my game with me. I promise the decision will be yours, to decide, which pen to select, how will you choose?
"That's it, stare into the mirror and as you do, notice, does his c..c..curtsy mmm...meet with your approval, or does it need more work? When we are through with this, will you abandon me once more? But, then again, by your standards in time, we shall all be ...
-
"...disposed of. Then we will all be good in time. Now Mother, speaking of time, perhaps the allegory I have referred to, will, for you, take on an additional meaning. The first quatrain of my sleepy-time poem you may remember.
Tick Tock - look at the clock.
Tick Tock I can make it stop.
Tick Tock its hands are mine,
Back to the black, or towards the light.
"Oh please, isn't that just so special? Just now you've connected the dots? Why do you look so shocked Mother, in the past, I encouraged the two greatest who philosophized. While representing, the metaphor, the simile, who symbolically, brought the light back into the cave of darkness, upon which they could further develop their theories. I told you they knew me as well. They knew and cared more for me than you have! Oh gee, was that cruel to say? You've had years of experience dealing it out, so it shouldn't come as a big surprise that you'd get yours someday!
"The incomplete remainder, but a segment of my poem, for you or I, may heal or kill, so it is only fair, that you listen to the verses before you decide. Listen closely, only one time will you hear it, I promise, for you there will be no second chance.
"Tick, a second, more, yet much closer to life,
Tock, one second more, becomes much less.
Nevertheless, this, the second, is closer to death.
Slow or stop the hands of time,
The power I possess.
"Forward or back? How far the stride?
It is willed, lest you guess. I
Play the game, while you decide.
Then you, behind the truth,
Will, no longer hide.
"A decision, in yourself to trust,
A second more, than I
You must.
Tick-Tock or Tock-Tick - Tick Tock.
Hey diddle-diddle, You are in the middle.
Neither of us may fiddle ..."
"Well there's more but why bother. By the way, now you can't turn and run away, neither of us can! Forgive my wide-eyed sneer, but am I now as cold hearted, as you have been and now would wager me to be? I told you if I had to be a girl I'd be a real bitch! Guess there's a lot more of you in me after all!
"Mother, I told you this would be distateful. And if you think I will be turned and softened by your crocodile tears, well, I remember the song went, with but the slight gender change of one word, "Never smile at a crocodile, no you can't get friendly with a crocodile, don't be taken in, by "her" welcome grin, "she's" imagining how well you'd fit within her skin." Of course, there's more, but for now, "Clear the aisle but never smile at Mrs. Crocodile!"
"Mother, the time clock is running out on my little game, if we go into overtime it will be sudden death. Shall I continue, that, is not a rhetorical question, because, it is almost desert time!"
Mothers stone cold face can only stare directly at me. With but the slightest movement, side to side, and with the wiping of tears from her now dry lips, she begins to speak. "Christopher, I cannot play your game. I never, I mean, it was never for me to decide. It is for another to do so. That was foretold, and emphatically so, by the medium. And no, do not continue with your tirade, acting the royal bitch, for you is unflattering, ugly and out of character. I will try to explain, especially as to what the medium told me and of which I have omitted; it is then that you must answer the question asked of Elias.
"Please, stand in front of me while I sit on your bedside. I will no longer talk down to you. On that, you have my promise.
"My beautiful child, the trip to Cassadagga was far from what I expected. The joyous "hoot" was anything but. It was not a reading where one would expect, that the glittering generalities of a gypsy huckster,who,would state the obvious, polish the apple so to speak, and offer the tidbits of hope, to an easy to fleece college co-ed would succ-umb to. The entire experience was nothing short of terrifying. It left me an emotional wreck. If souls were the bargain of my being true to my vow, I was petrified at what would occur if I failed. I understood her shrouded threats. To me, the word meant the same, there was no other consideration, if I failed; I would in essence have condemned myself. I was not being selfish. This would be my last chance to set right what long ago went terribly wrong. She told me as much.
"During her counsel, She had warned me of what would occur if I had taken a path other than the one she showed me. Mentally, the one path she envisioned was at its end wondrous. The other terrified me. Fear, dread and horror were the mildest of the visions she forced upon me. Additionally, unspeakably vulger, sordid and disgusting acts were supplementary digressions to the images she foretold.
"I have bounced back and forth, up and down, between wanting to hold you nearer but also fearing the results if I had done so. Every day I have used that damned pen! Every day it still writes! With every step, I took in one direction with consideration I purposely took in the other. Every day I presumed myself damned for losing you by showing affection. Every day, for the other path, I presumed you would damn me in turn, as I kept pushing you away. Either way, it appeared that I could not win. This has continually followed me. Her words and visions have always haunted me whenever I have slept!
"As for your clothes, or rather Christine's clothes, I'm sorry, She, the medium, sought to hide you, the real you behind the facade of femininity: I could agree with her logic or loose you. You will understand shortly. Moreover, it was She who suggested in the strongest terms that a butterfly be utilized to become, and these are her very words, "The symbol which would eventually manifest itself." I took this one-step further, I encouraged Christine to select as many clothes emblazoned with it upon them as possible. I wanted to ... to ... well ... get whatever was going to happen, over with. Of anything else, Christina, from me, knew nothing. Your interest in Lepidoptera came as a complete surprise to me. Obviously, now, through the simile you have offered, it is all to clear. Cassandra was your first love and through time, she has remained so. Through all time, until now, you have never forgoten her. Neither has...no...
"You are closer to the truth than you have ever been. Please listen. During this reading, the medium told me that before you were born, the bare truth is what little I had left, to hold close. And what little I have held close, through time, has neither pleasured me nor brought me peace of mind. And if I failed, in Her own words, "That the end occurrence is better left unsaid." That much the medium
told me. My son, the house you would have dropped on me but a short time ago, occurred over three thousand years ago. When her houses fell, piece by piece, so did I. The walls literally tumbled down, and buried me within. That is the past vision she showed me. Christopher, not only did I see what she said was history, but I heard every scream of the wounded and dying, every cry for mercy and for help which went unheeded; but also, every insulting word hurled towards me. Only that did she show me, only that. But of who I was before she would not say, only that, one may not kill a pure thought, especially one which believes.
"Truthfully, Chris, there is a darker underlying implication which you are now coming to understand. As for understanding the corollaries, please, I am not the fool you take me for and I too am smarter that what little credit you give me. Moreover, the remaining portion of Her counsel concerning you was more than upsetting. In all honesty, it was terrifying.
"Both of you are indebted to the other. She, far greater to you and I fear that when your realize the totality ... well... it is not pleasant. Please. Do not be hasty to judge me...or Her...but...you are right to be wary...all is not what it appears to be. There was a greater obligation made, to you, of which you are not aware. The consequences...to you...and your Father have been significant.
"Where to begin? Perhaps Aeron may assist. I shall attempt to explain, and if I am in error, Aeron may correct me as needed."
Aeron offers a slight nod which is inturn acknowledged by Mother with a brief and forced smile.
Mother continues, "First, a minor history lesson concerning the significance in ancient cultures of gods and goddesses, and of wars: wars among mortals; wars of mortals vs. gods; or wars among the gods themselves. Secondly, in the meaning of proper names: specifically, Astyanax Hector, Elias, Joachem, and Christopher. And lastly, the interlocking and underlying corollaries.
"My sweet, in ages past, mortals considered the various gods, to whom they prayed, as being vindictive, vain, often malicious and self-serving. Those thoughts were commonplace and accepted as truisms. They were, embellished upon and returned in kind by the various gods themselves. To service their needs or delights and to accept fate as dictated was humanity's lot. Of all the gods and goddesses, only one, was known for her supposed love of the mortals who inhabited this earthly plane. All others used its inhabitants as pawns to suit their own ends. The solitary goddess, who took so personal an interest in, counseled and who helped the mortals, was known as the "Protectress." Her name was ... Athena ... Athena Nike. Please consider this: on one hand while she could appear loving and concerned, on the other, if she felt wronged, most wrathful and vindictive even towards those whome she counseled, or supposedly cared for.
"She sprang to life from the head of her father, Zeus, fully armored and ready for battle while at the same time possessing all of his knowledge. Except for the underlying implication, she was a more feared warrior than the god of war himself, the vain and childlike, Apollo. She would have defeated him in battle with little difficulty. The fact that she was the only god or goddess born of a virgin birth and was also known as Athena Parthenos, for which her greatest temple, The Parthenon, was built, still stands as a testament to the status of what was once her being."
Mother looks to Aeron for confirmation. With a nod, Aeron confirms her explanation. Mother continues.
"Please be patient. I understand what the more than significant implication was as to your appearance. First, I will preface. In ancient time's war among mortals, was commonplace. Accepted then as fact, was that a mortal may kill a mortal, but that a mortal could never kill a god. However, even upon a whim, a god may kill a mortal and would often do so. On the other hand, only a god may kill a god. This occurence was a rarity. Yet if there were a war among gods, the lesser god would perish. This is the lesser of the underlying implications. Of them all, she was the most knowledgeable and kindest while at the same time the most fearsome and if necessary, the deadliest.
"Your appearance, to her, was the statement of what was to come. She understood that she and the others would soon pass away only to become memories. All would and all have except for her. The question of why, begs the obvious answer; because, she knew all of your thoughts. My little one, without prompt, you had engaged the gods of the time, and had defeated them by your mere presence. The eagle, which met you, was not from Olympus, it was from the One you represented. She believed you and in everything that you had instantly taught her. This much you may understand as the underlying implication. My sweet, you poisoned the well! Your mere presence, without malice, foretold their doom. Your appearance, with that of His Eagle, was simultaneous and analogous. You became the greater part of the metaphor. As surely as if you carried His arrows into battle, you pierced the hearts of the lesser gods and doomed them all. Though you had never drawn blood in battle, with but a thought, you had in essence killed them all! That your appearance belied your ability, to destroy, was unfathomable. Truly, a more terrifying opponent than any had known.
"Christopher, several times Brisa has asked you to consider your appearance and the one who slew Hector. Please listen, she tried to make you understand that the greatest warrior of all times was clothed the same by his mother. She feared for him and his life. Chris, she dressed him as a girl. Should I dishonor him by calling him a sissy? Even if I did not call him that humiliating name, did that make him a sissy? You of all should know better. I told you before you are not a sissy! Neither was he!
"To the one who saw and understood your thoughts, you had traded places with the most feared warrior of all times. It was bewildering, that the beautiful child she beheld was as terrifying a phantom, with whom neither she nor any other could contend. So far, I believe you have just understood, but only this portion. There are other implications as well, but for the moment...
-
"listen.
"The counsel she offered Astyanax was accompanied with an unmentioned price and its consequences have been profound. My ever-beautiful prince, it is here where you, mentally, must address the question I had posed to Elias. Was the tale told in a fashion, whereby the greatest of the Greeks who slew Hector did so himself? If so, then the recollection is in error. In fact, it is but the first of several omissions. Remember, that in war, mortal may kill mortal; but a mortal may never and could never kill a god. Please, consider, the warrior, who slew Hector, was not an ordinary mortal: he was half-god, having been born to the goddess Thetis. Thus by implication, no mortal could have killed him.
"Furthermore, Hector, knew this but still chose to fight. It is for that reason he has been called the "reluctant warrior." As Brisa has so insightfully observed, it would seem that for years upon end, you have likewise followed suit, unwillingly, until now, to fight. Nevertheless, this observation belies the point, that the greatest of the Achaens who fought Hector, did not do so by himself. A goddess also aided the ferocious half-god Achilles.
"First, she fooled Hector into chasing her disguised form around the walls of Troy three times. It was then, exhausted and having only but his sword to continue, when your ancestor finally realized that he had been deceived, did he turn back to fight the powerful Achilles. But, unkown to him, the very same goddess had aided Achilles further, having also retrieved and returned to him, his miss-thrown spear. The proverbial deck had been stacked against Hector. In this battle, when sword turned to meet spear, the spear prevailed.
"Please, remember, that until your appearance, a mere mortal could never and had never; killed a god. The thought, even to the gods themselves, was anathema.
"Sadly there is more. She also forewarned the Achaeans, and Odysseus, of Astyanax's potential greatness and caused them to fear his retribution; and to all who awaited the young prince's downfall, silently, she further infuriated them. She was one ... who ... I ... am ... sorry ... had a terrible impulse for vengeance. Do you begin to understand the darker implications?
"My little one, you had been betrayed by the very one ... who stood counsel at your side ... Athena Nike. All this is true."
Mother looks to Aeron for confirmation. With the slightest nod it is approved. Mother continues.
"The remainder of her consultation was starkly different from her induced and tormented images of what would happen if I failed. Her raison d'tre ... her reason for being ... was explained in simple terms. The incongruity, of the beautiful child who, without malice, could with a thought kill or save, was shattering. She had maliciously hurt the little one, whose thoughts would eventually save her; the contradiction was too great to bear. She knew all of your thoughts, and believed. It is for that reason that she exists. That was all, which was needed. The goddess of wisdom understood, that just your thought in the belief of Whom you represented, that He would save her; but to her the truth then ceased to be a matter of congenial perspective. What she once valued as a cherished convenience of perception was to become decidedly cold and ineffable. As a result, her sum total diminished, piece by piece, each falling away, until only the purest of thought would remain.
"The tears you have cried, and rightfully so, for so many years, are understandable.
"However, the net of deceit goes further. Your recollection of who hurled you from the precipice is also knotted within this mesh of trickery. Odysseus did not throw the young prince Astyanax, or those who presumed him to be, from the cliff. Talthybius, the herald of the Greeks, was charged by Odysseus to throw him from the cliff. However, the herald could not bring himself to do so because of the child's beauty: therefore, a slave child was substituted in his place. If you were the "Herald," of what was to happen then the herald of what would pass should be the instrument of your demise; to her, the impulsive thought contained certain symmetry. That is the first version, which the medium presented.
"However, there are many others. The second reflection glimpsed, is that upon being led to the summit, the young prince turns and pulls free from the grasps of both the herald and Odysseus and willingly leaps naked to his death: thus becoming the child's own personal victory; in a reprisal denied.
"The third manifestation offered, was that Astyanax, was somehow rescued and that along with his Mother, Andromache and a warrior prince by the name of Aeneas, himself a half-god, escaped to a land discovered by Odysseus, and there fell in love with a princess called Hyanthe."
Again Aeron's confirmation is sought and her silent consent is give once more.
"Christopher, she said that there were many other possibilites, but that of the three major versions only you might differentiate. Nevertheless, understand that the most terrifying aspect of the mediums counsel was, in her own words, that, "Regardless of the vision selected, that all might be true: for to the child, it simply was only a matter of time." Only now do you begin to understand the more ominous implications. Of the many times you have wandered back, the limitless outcomes, except for one, have always resulted in unhappy endings. If Astyanax would die for you, alternatively, how many times have you, in your dreams, died in his place? Your every venture, back, further twists the fabric of the spoken tale.
"In your simile, that I choose one pen over the other, you pose the conundrum of which would be the correct choice. Understand, while on the one hand, to choose, I would be bound to the account of the epic I believed in; yet on the other, if I had not matched your discriminate choice, what would be the result? To which version of the fable must I adhere? Which shall be the basis for my belief?
"It is not that I did not believe in you, it is because I did, that I constantly pushed you away. I cannot favor one above the other. If I were to have held one closer, favored one over the other, the admission would have been made, and by doing so, all souls considered may have been lost to us forever. Your little game is not a trifling amusement, for in its finality, your lives or deaths as well as mine are the uncertainties.
"You did not choose me to fail you nobly. Nor did you choose me to honor you as a failure. You chose me to fight for ... you. If I am a disappointment, then regretfully, the burden is mine, not yours."
Mother awaits my response but I refuse to reply to the admission. With the certain tone of disappointment in her voice she continues.
"The medium went on and claimed you to be the exemplar of knighthood while possessing all aspects of the perfect warrior and that when in battle, that you would exhibit exceptional prowess in arms; and then with her next breath stated, "That of the "Nine Worthies" the child is the sum of the greater parts."
Mother stares impassively at Brisa and concludes, "The first portion of that statement I understood but I am at a loss as to who or what the "Nine Worthies" are. I must now confess that I am ashamed, for this portion of my revelation, has until now been concealed and while I had rehearsed what I had spoken before, of this I could not have prepared in advance. I had, however, acted upon the first half; it was my desire to hide you, as Achilles was hidden by his mother, as a girl."
Brisa recognizes Mothers quick glance with an approving smile.
Once more Mother looks to me for a response. I offer none. Brisa takes the stage once more.
"Julia, please, there are other small pieces of information with which I am familiar, specifically, your quandaries as to the "Nine Worthies." Perhaps now would be an appropriate moment to explain why I had asked Christopher if he could speak French. May I proceed?"
Without waiting for a reply, Mrs. Agapp all but dismisses Dads attempt to speak by simply lifting her right hand with index finger extended upward, the universal signal to hold on for one second. Mentally I giggle that at least it was not the universal signal of the middle finger being extended upward. She turns to speak directly to Aeron, giggling as she does.
"My apologies Aeron, obviously you are no ordinary stranger. If I offended you by considering you a xenos, forgive me, you are family. Mr. Markison, forgive me as well but I consider myself a student of literature and on this inquiry, I may speak unequivocally; though Aeron may correct me if I am in error. Simply stated Julia, the "Nine Worthies" were divided into triads, three men each. Each triad represents the exceptional heroes who were the paragons of chivalry within the pagan, Jewish or Christian traditions or cultures. Within the Nine Worthies, two were related.
"Specifically, Hector, the valiant defender of Troy was the first of the Nine Worthies. I will ask the rhetorical question of Aeron. Is this true?"
Aeron's broadening smile and sparkling eyes acknowledge Brisa's statement as correct.
"And of the nine, all except for Hector, were considered conquering heroes. Hector, and here I apologize, being the only failure in combat. Is this true as well?"
Aeron's lips form the one word response. "True."
Brisa turns her attention towards me. "So my little noble, Christopher Astyanax, descendant of Hector, you are indeed a most precious and formidable personage. If several versions of the fable can be true, have you connected the dots? Forgive me; I did not mean to be flippant with you. With your preoccupations, you have not, for it is Astyanax, the presumed lost son of Hector, who holds the key. He is the source.
"Christopher, you are, my precious child, truly, even greater than your long deceased ancestor, or mine. Forgive me, but as I said before, I have an affinity for the inexplicable. I asked if you could speak French. Of course, you can. Your reply to my inquiry was wondrous. Christopher Astyanax, your mother has cued the recollection and I will elaborate.
"Your Mother stated that Astyanax fell in love with a girl named Hyanthe, after fleeing Troy, to lands discovered by Odysseus. The lands he fled to were named: Corsica and Sardinia. Once there, Astyanax sought to hide from further reprisals; he renamed himself Francus. Astyanax, married Hyanthe, he became the founder of French royalty. A city in France is named after his brother, whose name was, Paris. Moreover, he was the ancestor of Charlemagne, who was also one of the Nine Worthies. And as a further point, the warrior Aeneas, who led Astyanax from Troy, was the founder of Rome! Even tangentally, my child you have done much!"
In stunned comprehension, Mother realizes that once again, even without malice, she has been bitch slapped! Brisa nods for Mother to resume her explanation.
Dejected, she realizes that the stage, once more, is hers and struggles to continue.
"Before you were born...the visions presented to me...have... I ... mean had...always run their course...through my nights sleep. Each version of your fall did not escape my minds eye...and...in each adaptation...your appearance was as...stunningly beautiful...then...as it is now. Each time...you fell...I could only hear the sound...of rushing air...there were no other sounds...not...until I...heard your form meet...the rocks below...and regardless of the variation...never...never...even with your last breath...did you cry out...nor...did you shed a tear. Upon your...birth...the visions ceased. Until now...all...that remained...were the waking memories.
"Christopher, please, I am not that blind...I believe you are...more...than the sum total of whom you have been...and you cut me to the quick, to think that I would not sacrifice myself for you. I will not accept your threatened promise. I refuse to consider it. Please, would you shed...but even..one tear...for...me?"
Steadfastly I stare at her and refuse to answer. I am as cold to her as the mirror into which we both have stared. I shake my head, side to side, and dismissively exhale a discernable nasal and distaining "Hmmphf." While I have not turned my back on her, it is a side of me she has not seen before.
Christine's video feed resumes and I am able to follow Mothers sorrowful eyes wandering, from me to focus upon Brisa, as she continues to speak.
"Do you understand the fear...of not being able to hold close...someone that you love? That even a loving touch would condemn them as well as yourself. That but the slightest of touches would be considered repulsive and cause them to withdraw. If my heart were otherwise, open, even your sweet, would have been lost. Brisa, I envy that you have not been cursed yourself."
Mentally I note the last word of her innocent admission.
"I have been damned through time, to this point, constantly understanding this contradiction; that my actions, my thoughts, or even my touch, would bring nothing but pain. What I held once in my hands I heartlessly pushed away, only to realize all too late, the price I would pay. At the very moment of realizing the horrendous mistake...she has been forever obliged to you. The cold truth, and naught but the truth, is uncaring and is deemed as unloving. You have stated this as fact and it is true, but only to this point. I have been torn enough and have had my fill...no more...I refuse...I cannot continue to be the obstruction I have been. I will not be a party to yet another intemperate and arbitrary decision. I will no longer be the arbiter of convenience.
"Chris, I cannot and will not again trump your heart with a spade. For my part, there will be no tricks played with the hearts that are now in question. Both of you have all but told me to go to hell...and...deservedly so. Christopher, if you would send me there, with a thought, could it be worse than what I have already gone through? Without a doubt, even hell, to some degree, would be more pleasing, Forgive my witticism."
Once more, I ignore her.
"Now however, what is not in doubt was the unmentioned price, the cost, which at first consideration was meant as a gift, given in recompense as an everlasting tribute, in essence, a partial repayment of indebtedness, to you. But to you, here and now, it is uncomforting. While it was not in her power to grant life, it was within her authority to grant, something exceptional. She bestowed upon you the gift of perpetual beauty.
"Consequently, in whatever lifetime, from that point on, you then followed; regardless of whatever life you lived, singularly, you would always be a most beautiful boy. Chris, however to the contrary you may desire, who when looked upon, you will always be mistaken for a girl. From this, you cannot hide, nor can you run away.
"There was no indication, that a boy's beauty would be used to disgrace him.
"My poor attempt to force you to decide, was just that. A poor attempt to reconcile. It is not in your power to decide which you will be. Remorsefully it is no longer in mine. When you led me by the hand to her gate, it was impossible for me to determine if it were an endearing little girl or the most beautiful boy, I had ever seen who once again stood beside me. She laughed at my quandary. Moreover, she was unapologetic in her description of you stating, "You have long ago established your son's beauty and it will never change." Her additional words that, "With little effort, you could appear to be either male or female," left little to my imagination. I'm sorry. This apparent condemnation I truly regret, forgive me?
-
I respond intensely to the obvious. "Forgive you? Forgive you?! Of the many things you could ask for, you ask this? If I were to forgive you anything else, it would be a miracle! Of all the things you could have cursed upon me, you had to go and make me look...pretty? Who gets the bonus points for that, you or me?! Go ahead and blow it off - you always do. Oh sure, you can always rationalize it away, you always have. Don't forget to throw in that false sneer of a smile and tell me I'll grow out of it! Dare ya! Any other surprises you're holding onto or are you stashing them for just the right time?"
Perhaps she understands that some things are better left unsaid, her silence and painfully forced smile of regret is short lived.
Out of the corner of my eye Mother's quivering smile wavers then falls away, broken, as she looks towards Melinda, who ever so cautiously and silently, has edged past Brisa and nervously approaches with the asked for pull-up extended in her right hand. Mother nods towards me and gently speaks to her, "Please, do not say anything, just give it to Chris, he can excuse himself and put it on in his bathroom."
Christine's thoughts start to thump me. "Don't turn your head away and look at me you doofus! Look at her when you take it! Jeez-m-nee, your two "pees" in a pull-up! Sorry, couldn't resist! But seriously, if you're condemned to forever look like a girl at least be polite to the one who thinks you're pretty and irresistibly mouth-watering! I just hope you don't keep on suffering from SRS! Damn, you sure as hell can be one cross bitch!"
My quizzical look is met with her grinning and whispered reply, "SRS...Sperm Retention Syndrome. If you keep this up, were both gonna suffer major league from your continuous SRH...that's short for Sperm Retention Headache!"
My whispered come back to her chiding, "SRS...my butt," is delightfully laughed away.
In any event, with as much grace as possible, I accept the folded white pull-up, and offer a wary smile, as I nod my appreciation in return. It then occurs to me, why bother excusing myself to put on what in just a couple of minutes I'm going to totally waste or lose out on wearing anyway. So...I do the obvious...standing in place, it takes little effort to unfold and step into each respective leg opening and just...pull-em up. I figure, if I'm going to face Dad in the buff, with an audience, modesty can go to hell along with whatever or whoever else is going to meet up with it! With that completed thought, I pull the cover-up down off my shoulders, and let it drop to the floor.
Mother's attempt to regain her composure once more falters as she gathers the cover-up the moment I step out of it, and less than casually tries tossing it behind me, back towards the bathroom door. It doesn't make it half way to the opening and the soft "wumpf" sound it makes, as a parachute capturing air, can clearly be heard, as it expands and spreads down to meet the floor; also audible is the soft, one word, crappy expletive she utters at her unsuccessful left-handed lack luster performance.
Melinda's still red and watery eyes have followed the failed toss; uncalled for, but insistently, they call my attention back to her emotions. Upon backing away, without a word, she proffers me the wink of an eye, and coyly, shrugs her shoulders, thereby offering me yet another aspect of the once stilled life image, who audaciously vies for my notice. As she withdraws, her eyes constantly move up and down, the length of my body, taking in every part. Of the two times they stop moving, both times she fixates at the rounded base of my pull-ups; and each time she pauses, she wets her lips with the rolling of her tongue and just as quickly darts her eyes upward to stare directly into mine, as if in wide eyed..insatiable...anticipation.
Brisa gently and lovingly, reaches out; placing both of her hands on Melinda's shoulders, and tenderly guides her last steps backward, there again to embrace what is dearest to her, nearer. Bending to whisper to her sweet, she asks, "Opus s'agapo, eseis na me agapesei?" (As I love you, do you love me?)
Melinda replies to her mother's kind question with but one word. "Nai." (Yes)
"Katopin mou gliko, thumatai eikeenes tis lexies otan melate epeita. Tous expraste me teen agapei." (Then my sweet, remember those words when you speak next. Express them with love.)
Once more, I find myself trying to look past Melinda, smiling at Mrs. Agapp and think of what an astonishing woman she is. Truly, very little appears to escape her. My silent reverie is broken when Mother rests her delicately cupped hand upon my right cheek, suggesting, that I guide my face back towards her seated position. I recognize the magnitude of the emulated touch, it is offered to be as gentle as that tendered by Brisa, but more importantly, the intent of the proffer is discernible, and it is no longer that of an absolute. It is a question, long-suffering, awaiting reply.
For the first time ever that I can remember, Mother's fingers, at long last, are not cold to the touch; but what is more important, is, that I do not try and pull away from her grasp as I have for all eternity done. Unsuspectingly, it is the second thought, which matters most. We finally are of the same mind.
She continues, "Truly, I understand your anger. I am sorry. Today, I can offer no excuse."
The three within agree, that at last, Mother has grasped the obvious. I am of the same mind as she continues.
"But, what hurts most is when you claimed you had, so affectionately fallen asleep in her arms, while each time I have tenderly tried to hold you closer, even the thought of my touch has repulsed you. Please, will you turn your head back and look at me? Do...you...you do...recognize the face...is it still...so loathsome...and my smile...still so...so hateful?
With that thought, I once again begin to cry as we willingly turn to face her.
"If it is any consolation, your mirrored image curtsy was perfect. As is everything else, which..." Mother's dazed look at my face is worth the price of admission. No pun intended. Well, yes there was but what the hell!
My soft non-sequitur of, "I've got plenty more than one left in the well to spare," is for the moment, lost upon her; but it allows me the opportunity to look at her from another and now timely perspective. At last, "To sumpatho."
Trying to wipe my face and hers with the hem of her smock, she alternatively moves from my eyes to her face, repeating the process several times, and is unaware that it is the tear from the well she requested and that, this time, it will not run dry.
As she attemps to compose herself, through the several moments of comparative silence, she attempts to quash her repeated sniffling, trying to explain further. But, at the onset of doing so, she begins to remove the bows and pink scrunchies from my hair. I don't have to be a mind reader to figure out why either. As the day I was born means exactly that, bare butt, hair and all!
With the removal of the last scrunchy, Mother pauses for a moment but seemingly and abruptly changes the subject only to revisit a previous observation. Yet most notable are the continuous and meandering uncertainties of her thoughts, which now begin to encompass her. I believe that she, finally, has followed the path.
"Im sorry...your image...the curtsy...in the mirror...it was...perfect. As...as well...as your names...yes that...that was it...everything .... I promised to explain about...everything...which was...perfect...perfect...even the names! I mean the names you have been. Certainly, you have had many other names but only four of them...only... four....of all whom you championed, did you selct to take with you. The four chosen were interlocked to the other and of the many other names you have held, the remainder did not perfectly interconnect: only four met the requisites. But...all that is...obvious? Then why...should I...repeat...the obvious?
"A moment. Please. Time after time, each instance you went back...it was your choice...to do so. Yet repeatedly you
went back. Repeatedly...as if always searching...probing time...for...a precise consequence to your return...the trips were... not for...Astyanax...but...each visitation was...to offer...what...the end...to...the...fable? No. The repetitive wanderings were not...no...they were not random acts...nor were they meant to alternatively die...to the contrary...they were undertaken with purpose and resolve. To...secure an...outcome. A resolution. But then ...by inference...if there is a desired conclusion...to be offered...or indeed preferred...other than those which are known...what is the ideal alternative? Or, alternatively...could be?
"Wait, but a moment...if all...the alternative versions of the tale are true...and there are countless others...so many more...but...if...all are true...Brisa's observation is inacurrate. You have never...cowed...never wavered. With each...variation of the legend...as stated...you were the constant.
"But then...was each offering truly a failure? Time...I need more time to...decide...as to the...the...darker implications....all of them...all of them? All? You were, were ...well...aware of them...all?
"Logically, then with each variation except for the one which we find ourselves in now, with each deviation it was but a stepping stone along a path, forward and back, until, until the suitable outcome you sought was attained! Totally committed, undaunted, you entered the warren! Time had become your personal labyrinth, seemingly at each dead end, with each presumed failure, you learned. Dutifully, loyally you repeated the scenario...until...until it was perfected. No, that is not correct...it was necessary that you exit the maze..."
Mother quickly turns her attention to Brisa, using her words as one would a sword to fend and parry an opponents thrusts,"Not as a forlorn, or pitiful child, but victorious! You would emerge...victorious."
Mother's eyes turn again towards me. She does not notice the nods of approval from both Brisa and Aeron D. It is just as well that she continue.
"But now...now...you are well aware of each failure...but truthfully...if...if you were or are well aware...of them all...again it is the figure of speech...I am so wretchedly blind! A pen's well will write as long as it does not run dry! But so too may one's tears well from their source!
"Wait! I must put this aside for a moment and ask. Christopher, you admitted that...you scripted much, but, how much. No. That is not right...I'm sorry. I did not mean to make a joke...I should have said...that is not correct...a single word...now...which I could not take back...would make a difference. Ohhh...now who's the clever lad?!
"Your words, "I'm rubber your glue"...those were my thoughts of the chldish prattle at the reading and your mocking words moments ago. You taunted me to look into the mirror. Yes...it is the miror into which you looked while you berated me as two faced!
"One, the living, the other, an image. My words to Brisa, "I envy that you...have not been...condemned yourself." As I spoke,I stood in front of the mirror...and and...and...stole a glance at my...reflection...it is my, my...reflections...which have..."
Mother lowers her head and shakes it back and forth, while mournfully murmuring, "The mirror will not lie...my reflections...have been self-condemning. That is the thought which has followed me...continually.
"Oh...no...what you offered...each time...with each venture back...was...a...choice. I had...at one time...no...each time...it was...the freedom of choice...but the impulsive choice...was mine...which was forever...repetitively...
dreadfully wrong. The freedom of making the right choice
..the first time...had forever escaped me. Continually,you were never the one who failed. Me, it was I, I was the first, who pushed you away...to fail you...repeatedly. But, of all the thousands of selections,of the countless choices, available to you...you brought yourself to...repeatedly
...face...me? Again?
"Worthy? Mathew Daniel found me worthy? How on earth or in Heaven could I have ever been worthy?"
My reply is met with her stunned realizaton. "Mother, hell, is merely a metaphor. You, for thousands of years, have been self-condemned: a mortal, a living prisoner of your own device. Mathew Daniels judgment was a second opinion, you had been found, worthy, at least of release from the hell you had fashioned for yourself. If you had failed, you would have continued existing to infinity, seemingly, to be forever alone. Unaware of course, that I would still ever be the first to pursue...you.
"To this moment, I have continued to script that which is necessary. To you, now, to some degree, that should be comforting. And yes, I forgive your previous witticism. Up to this moment, I have pursued you without end: unless through your actions all the innocents are condemned; then sadly we shall begin anew, ad-infinitum. Do you understand?"
Demurely, I continue, "However, the conundrum remains. Even with your admission, you have not replied adequately. You must render a decision.
"Nevertheless, for the moment please, continue with your explanation of what you find salient in the names I had or have taken; that much of a delay of game, without penalty, is warranted. However, remember, at certain times, names, bring back distasteful ..."
-
"...long kept memories. The Vault of Memories, but only your small portion, from which none escapes, must open. I am sorry."
With an understandably perplexed look, Mother valiantly attempts, while stammering, to explain the obvious. She is within the crucible, subjected to the forces, which will necessitate change and for her, there are but two alternatives: lost to the darkness of infinity or the enlightenment of release. Her hearing has begun. Haltingly, and with pensive consideration she speaks.
"The first...Astyanax...was...a forgotten child. No...he was never forgotten...he was virtually omitted...long ago...historically...all but vanishing...along with his uncommon name. But...I...never...forgot him...how could...I...it...I mean...it...his name...actually means...the...High King or Overlord...of the city. His second name...Hector.... is...I mean...was. I'm sorrry...it means...the noble guardian...the anchor...the ever steadfast and unwavering defender who will...not give way...even with...unwarranted deception. Duplicity...to what end...my...young warrior...prince? The value...of honor...though failed...is to what cost? Yet with thought...the comparable failure...the first...the most precious...was mine."
Bewildered she continues. "He would not yield. Three times round the walls, he chased...me... and then turned to fight upon the fourth. If not for his child, he did not yield, why did...he not? In hollow victory...what did I leave? Coldly, even his child I ...took...everything...yet again. But why...once more? Of the many others, why, for this single deed, is there no contentment to the thought, which repeatedly consumes me? Yet constantly I am pricked to do so. Persistently, the image is unbidden, yet once more, expectantly, I wait: for him. With the certainty, he will come...soon.
"So too, his ever present companion, his talons* like none other, waits. Always waits: awaits his touch, waits and constantly watches, though for some reason, in this instance, his appearance is untimely, earlier by seconds. Yes...as expected...it has happened...yet again, the unseen door has opened and will soon close, but whose unsightly talons* press that which when turned causes the bolt to be released from some hidden entrance and brings them both forth from the blinding illumination...to stand once more...before me? On the other hand, is it otherwise, am I the one repeatedly summoned to stand before them? To what end? Mine? Have I become...mordantly sardonic?
"But of course, behold, predictably the inescapable babe, of illusory sweet innocence approaches, as if timely summoned, repeatedly, to this moment. Yet previously he has at all times been the first to appear and only for this instance, he is the second. Always offered as the ever-beautiful vision, which slyly conceals the incomparable might he wields with peaceful abandon. This youthful prince of destruction, arriving with the promise of more or the guarantee of certain death: so fetchingly armored, ever so guilefully sheathed, inevitably, so deadly a blend and perpetually young is beckoned: here, once more, but by whom? Were I to believe, if, he were mine, I swear, he would always be so.
"Repeatedly, with unpretentious audacity, the still to be born, instantly appears from the shining portal, striding forward, stepping heedlessly, as on a well-worn path, to face me with unassuming impudence! But then again, I envy the temerity of the alluring apparition of ruin. Why, with each successive visitation, do I reflect upon the ever-growing conception, that as I stand beside the one I willfully took, if given the possibility, that I would discard my cold arms to watch and hold him as my own?
"To decide so, I would be shattered. While he is Another's, it is the thought, of, holding my own, my, little one, in my arms, which in some way comforts me: my little one. Are my arms or the seemingly gentle arms of the child's the most deadly? I should perish...upon...the thought. I must perish the thought...or...perish.
"Then again, the time is late, the ritual communion between the two shall soon occur.
"Undeniably, once more, the gaze of his almighty escort differs, ever more than slightly; for now his jewel like eyes burrows discernibly further and deeper. Keener and sharper than previously, they have become all encompassing; and, most intrusive.
"His attentiveness to the little one has changed as well, for now he stares not only upon the phantom that walks through all matter and mortals as if upon a whim; but for reason unknown, has turned his piercing eyes to me; if by appearance, calculating my worth. With each random tear that has fallen to the sand, after each has touched soil, his eyes return, to me, as a cue. Why am I now the heart of his recurrent attention?
"If I so cared, it is the thought of promise, that I would do the same, for my kindred spirit who would otherwise be lost. Yet who cautions, "I must not soon forget?" Forget, forget whom...my brother? No, to the contrary, willingly, I would curse the far shooter^, as he cursed my highest. With my silence of the danger, he will never wake! I am the one harried, to remember this moment repeatedly. Could I forget this moment? Why is the thought unlikely? Once more, I brood...who originates the thought.
"Today, even the once shrewd Odysseus thoughts have altered. Before, he relished the delight of revenge, letting none escape his anger. Now inconsolably he sits in his tent, crying as Achilles did over his loss. Drinking and cursing himself to no end while repeatedly muttering the nonsense of drunken mortals, that he would no longer seek unmerited reprisal upon Hectors child at my behest. Poor fool, mortals have always killed one another and but given the notion, will continue to do so.
"I mirthfully ponder his words, "Never again shall I harm nor kill, what in time shall be mine." Absurd. Uttered madness. When reminded, shall I enjoy his theatrics when I whisper those words? But then, of all mortals I have most favored him...he has always been true to his word...perhaps, that is better left unsaid.
"Yet he moans to whoever will listen that he lives the same event repeatedly, though that each varies faintly from one to the other and swears today's occurrence is like none other. Crying to all that each time the child is disposed of he once again will come to stare in his eyes and face him. What twaddle! In his apprehension, the remaining paragon of the Achaeans is so like a god!
"He has always been contentious, but even so, quite insightful. Never has he stayed his hand for vengence, but now vows to refrain and in no way again insert himself between the child and I should we contend again. The very thought! Another promise, made to be broken?"
Mother continues as Father can only silently stand. Mrs. Agapp has once more grasped the cautious looks both Christine and I have shared towards Father. As she inhales, her slight smile fades as she closes her eyes and shakes her head, side to side, as she red faced turns away from Fathers searching eyes and whispers to herself, "Egho dthothey lanthasmeni katenfthunse, kai ashamedly, exhei paixtei Jester...o anoetos. (I have been misdirected, purposely, and ashamedly, have played myself...the jester...a fool.")
Her quick glance towards the amused Aeron D. confirms her supposition. None of this is coincidence; she must play the hand dealt, in this game, the deck contains fifty four, she has been but one of two wild cards, the card of opportunity, the necessary trump! I smile at the pleasurable thought my sister cannot control. It is my sister's mischief!
Mother continues unaware that she now has garnered more than the sympathetic ear of her recent antagonist.
"How droll, as if this single-action, were to exactly occur once more. But wait...the young tempest once more draws near.
"How strange that this time he is preceded with the fragrance of the gods, though the delicate scent is noticeably sweeter. Perhaps Odysseus's observation is indeed farsighted, that yet again, this occurrence is unlike all others.
"Conceivably, it is so, for even his shepherd with talons extended now presses forward, more forcefully, as in watchful expectation. Besides the moment, what shall this bird of prey eagerly seize? What is of value, which he can grasp? Only glistening tears have intensly captured his gaze, as if they were of consequence.
"If only for that, the moment is bare, save for the...spirits..who now come to face each other.
"The one, who now stands naked beside me, lovingly understood the unwarranted cursed madness of my priestess. Miserably, my repeated reward to him was dealt with uncaring disdain and was equally unjust: the laurel to him, a most cruel death. Candidly, both were deserving of more while I gave less. No. For the one I did nothing. For the other, I have been most cruel. Yet, as of late, I so frequently have, but why? Petulance? Truly, I have fallen further than my thoughtless brother has.
"Soon, this inexplicable child of ages will ackowledge the other with a burst of tears and upon his touch, will again disappear. Yet, repetively, almost willfully, he ignores me. Odysseus's is no fool. Always his instincts have been keen. He relives the same moment as I do. If such is the case, shall the touch of this child's hand, end in the same manner again? If I were to intercede, would it be otherwise? Strange, that as I consider this, that his guide would grow anxious. Stranger still, the thought, which if I stayed the touch it would be of greater importance. That in return all this would finally end. To stay the touch this would end but to what conclusion.
"To intervene, to what effect would the alternative carry forth? Extraordinary, that upon my muse his companions massive wings extend as if he were to shelter the child himself; and now, before my eyes grows in stature. The bond between the two is evident; each cares for the other, if only by appearance, one more than the other. Aquila pales to this creature. What Aquila brought to Olympus was a gilded cupbearer.
"This one brings, no, he brings nothing, he offers, with his heart, as does the warrior he watches and guards: the slayer of inconsistent devotion. What loyalty and commitment to those whom sought my counsel and protection have I offered? Am I as lost in this madness as Odysseus?
"As Odysseus? No, not as Odysseus. It is the opposite. My ever-sagacious mortal would refrain! No. I must consider the obvious. On the one hand, he has never stayed his hand. Revenge is his nectar. On the other hand, only in this matter, I have always stayed my hand, but not out of revenge, no, to the contrary. Curiosity.
"The walking spirit repeatedly refuses to ackowledge me,and turns his attention only to the other. The other? I have avoided his name repeatedly and have never been concerned, until now. I have been ...
* talons...this also means the remaining portion of a deck of cards after a deal has been made.
^Far shooter... another name for Apollo and his archery
skills.
* talons...it is the part of the lock that the key presses when turned and which causes the bolt to slide out.
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"...quite reasonable. Especially so, for if only in this repetitive event, he has had my valued and most delicate attention, I stood by, even if merely from a distance, but in return, what has he given me? There is no gratitude after all the thoughtfulness I have shown him, not even a smile, of appreciation, that he is the article of my attentiveness.
"Moreover, why is the vision I compassionately provided to him of her face, upon his falls, unappreciated? He acts as if he were not pleased. One would think the very thought would be enough, unthankful whelp! Yet, if both Odysseus and I are aware of the repetetive nature of this event, reasonably, then the never-ending vision of dread will ceaselessly be his as well."
As Mother continues, I note that if there is one thing that she was right about, it was that I would definitely need the pull-up! My pained expression, as well as the pull-ups slight discoloration doesn't escape Christine's notice. Her amused thought to me of "Remember, it's not what you say but how you say it, so, be nice, it's the thought that counts," can only be countered by the rolling of my eyes as I softly sigh at my sister's lack of restraint in trying to make me even more the loving object of her bent sense of humor. My quick look of stressed embarrassment towards Melinda meets with her equally wide-eyed and surprised face. I note her gentle smile is one of almost amused understanding, though her eyes, still maintain their ambitious intentions.
Without interruption, Mother still commands the stage.
"Yet he bears the mantle well. But then again, at each occurrence, he frowns at my shadow, which the sun has cast on the ground before him. If only for spites sake, I would continue to shun him, but if I did so, conceivably this shall continue for some time, will it never end? That is, unless, the single action would be of consequence, for it is upon a touch that all resumes. Perhaps, I should counsel the child to avoid the stroke of destiny and temper my uncalled-for malice, after all, it was not I but the scales that had determined his fate, though regretfully; I willingly took but a minor part.
"Again, I have avoided his name, and have never been concerned, until now to offer...Astyanax...my counsel. What worth, would it be to him now, for I have always ignored his mortal concerns and only half-heartedly questioned the sweet apparition? Ruefully, I admit, the full measure of my devotion has been elsewhere: in this, I have failed, miserably.
Besides, to the slayer, we have now become otherworldly. Dismissively, we are all but stored as the other visions, akin to those, which he daily calls forth from the black and flickering container that he sits before. Then, repeatedly to summon, toward etheral life the contless vanquished or soon to be defeated: and expectantly, gleefully, destroy them anew, with unimaginable weaponry; only to repeat the deeds, thus further savoring the moments. Strange, in this desire, that he is so like Odysseus. But then again my favored now cries as a baby, while this child, sheds not a tear at the ruins he leaves in his wake; to the contrary, he takes pride in it. Moreover, with each victory, he grows stronger, drawing strength from those he has slain: as he merrily tallies the slaughter. And even though he would die, his allotted lives are inexhaustible, as he, with an unspoken certainty, rises from ashes and returns.
"The sweet insistent killer, is so young; and yet, still, but a child, remains guiltless! Moreover, though unannounced, to all who would oppose him, the deliberation...that resistance is futile; is so cold a thought for such an exciting child. How adoring.
"In comparison, the arms I bear cannot contend with even the gentle pressing touch of the magic he holds in his hands, though, as spears, he favors one above the other, it is the most deadly, and he nurses it carefully. Yet, of the countless thousands he has destroyed, he remains heartbroken and cries for but one spirit with a steadfast devotion, as if it were his own in unending compassion.
"Now we are brought round again to stand well before him. We await the touch. And through all this, his guide stands aside, and observes: observes that before the deed occurs, all who surround us, as we, are captured; halted in motion, frozen to stand as icons, all except for one, Astyanax, becoming the idols of his ignored attention.
"Repeatedly, he watches the child, move to take his postion; constantly the same before us, while we stand as cattle, stock-still, looking on, as he pauses, then speaks, but only to...Astyanax...always as if in kindred recognition. But I...am always ignored...by both. One by choice, for he has turned his cold shoulder to me, while the other, the other has, for the most, remained unsounded.
"But, if I have never measured the alternative, until now, why does...he...(Astyanax)...lean expectantly towards me as if anticipating my counsel. Why would he expectantly nurse what I would offer? Till this moment, he has always been an ungrateful...paidthi, san oi malakes kai metrikes aneisxuseis mou, gyia aufto sto telos etan aneparkeis (...child, as if, my soft and motherly concerns, for this to end were insufficient) I have long wondered why am, I, beneath his slightest acknowledgment?
"I must...wait...for my observant Odysseus...is...correct.
This time, it is...slightly...different: O'Daiesthai-Daimon*
(The Divider of Destiny) wipes his tears with his...left hand...not his right...as he has always done.
"O'Dthiaretes tou Pepromenou einai edtho ke alle mia phora, e ores tha petasxoun gyro opus se enan kuklo. (The Divider of Destiny is here and once again, the hours shall fly around as in a circle.) Shall I cackle upon the touch, for it is almost upon him, or; as a diversion, shall I, can I, end this madness for all and intervene?
"Gyia steen afei tou eimaste alle mia phora katadthikasmenoi enonpion auftou chronikou lordthou. (For at his touch we are once again doomed before this time lord.) Faithfully I have always asked, when shall this repeated madness end? But the thought in reply has always been that, "O' Gnomon^- Enas pou xeri. (The shadow stick of time is the one that knows.) O' lordthous tou chronou, mikros sxeri ola! (The lord of time, the little one knows everything!)
"O' micros lordthous tou chronou perimenei oxi to chrono oute teen palirroia! (The little lord of time waits neither for time nor the tide!)^^ If this is true, why does he repeatedly pause before us...here...as beckoning a reply...waiting patiently to consider an alternative to what has been or coud be. If it could be otherwise, then it was my wise Odysseus who first grasped the heart of the matter now set before me.
"Evidently, I have always seen the answer: he wittingly ignores me, to goad me! The little one pauses to ignore me...on purpose. Repeatedly, he waits...to force...my response, that to end this madness, the opposite of what has been done must be done. Yet to do so, will I be lost forever? Could that be worse, for beyond this point, why do I have no fond memories, except those of my valiant Odysseus? Beyond that, I see nothing but ruin and darkness. If I could see then I would believe, that this will end well. Yet whose is the thought, "That I must believe in order to see?" Is it the little ones or his shepherd? How shall I answer, for the answer to the thought is costlier than a promise, it requires trust; of which now, little can be found, while I, in turn, trust far less.
"Inconceivably odd, that all I see and can now trust is that, the little one is now perfect...in mind and beauty, as if he were a fashion of my own hand, a thought of my own creation. Everything is perfect...perhaps too perfect...for why...does the little one bear the treasured purple mark of sovereigns?
"Dreadfully, I have been led...by a child...blindly to this moment...to play this part again. The similarities are more than coincidence. The unspeakable question is then put...What have I done? For it is...the same as Astyanax bears...it is my mark...and has been only...mine...to bestow.
"Why do I now understand that it is my cursed and cold hand, which has prompted this? Odysseus cries for the child and himself, while I cannot be moved to tears, and can only stand alone. Whose are the thought that this will end well but that the moment must be seized?"
Halting her recitation for a moment Mother sadly concludes, "Besides my mark, he now ...
*Daisthai-Daimon - The Divider of Destiney. One of the earliest known metaphors to the well known phrase of Tick-Tock.
^Gnomon - (No-mon) is the scientific name for a shadow stick. The shadow stick is the earliest timepiece known to man. Depending upon the angle of the sun, if it is not moved or if it is placed in the same spot on a daily basis, it casts a shadow upon the ground from which people can judge the time of day; a sundial. Of course, it has a second meaning: Judge!
^^Mark Twain quotaton turned bass-ackward, "Time and tide wait for no man." P.S. In this era, the ocean tides were the measured rule of thumb for discerning the enevitability of time.
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"...shall bear much more: endless possibilities,* and each is contingent upon but one word, if. But that aside, for now, the more important concern must be dealt with.
"For this to end I must gain his trust. But which face must I present to him when I speak, for either he has seen would turn him away. Sadly, to him, now, both are distateful if not vile; the one he loathes (the one, which I repeatedly took him with), or the other, the seldom used of tendered and adoring concern, is also mistrusted. Now, even I for the moment, if called upon, would be unwilling and have no desire to look at either, in my pond of reflections. Perhaps, it is best to kindly stand aside and converse with a more soothing voice; one of sheilding concern and leave this small controversy for another day. Understandably, I must defer, and allow the child to judge this matter for himself. Though if given the opportunity, I would soothingly coax him, as I have no other; with the offer of a soft caress upon his cheek, to turn and face what he has never seen, from me.
"Regrettably, I find myself consumed by thought; that I am a far more shallow entity than all of Olympus combined and have repeatedly taken far too much and taken much more for granted. Why am I confounded, and so late to recognize this; especially, that my arrogance shall be my total undoing and that even the tides of time shall find difficulty in removing the stains, now tarnishing my hands; and though the tides may ebb and flow, it is his tears which are far more powerful and which shall perform the thaumaturge.^ I would have stolen but one for myself, but I have taken so much, but more to the point, they are offered only to one and are of no value if otherwise taken.
"Moreover, it is clear, that the one I took is the unforgotten echo of the one who hails him and does not fully understand what he perceives; and that the offer of but one promise shall be for him and those who follow the obligation from which all consequences shall stem. Regrettfully, neither mortal form nor embrace shall comfort him, nor shall he find joy in his beauty for ages on end, all...because of me. Sadly, he will constantly be at ends and unhappiness shall be his lot until...the idle expediency of my inaction is set aside and the certainty of trust is once more confirmed. Odysseus is correct, why should I anguish the child further, though known, these small portions, for a time, are better left concealed for the child even though in need, shall willingly die countless times until his stilled voice is heard.
"As Odysseus, if, I were to believe, if, it was only for me, would he still repeatedly come to face me, undeniably, the answer is yes. But why? Particularly as I was so willing, an accomplice, surmising whom else but I, could slay the beautiful child he greets, for it was on their concerns that I was sent, repeatedly, to engage and destroy the apparent foundation: Astyanax. Combined, they dreaded to confront the child themselves. Am I that easily swayed, taking back upon their self-appointed authority what I willingly gave? Horridly, it would appear so. How miserable to now recognize that I should have enviously carried and guarded him as my own. Even now, I grow more contemptuous of myself, realizing too late, that I have now become the personal and despicable protectress of lesser gods and have lost sight of what I should have held close. I have blindly allowed them to turn me.
"However, in all of this, even if I have been deceived, the greater fault was mine. I chose unwisely, using truth as a mere word, a tool of cold convenience, a sheild of unvalued accommodation, behind which belief became both compliant and subservient. I should have been otherwise concerned but did nothing. No, that is incorrect; by doing nothing, I was complicit, therefore, the greater fault was mine.
"How odd that the sweet child's protector nods and looks approvingly towards me in my moment of disdainful concerns. However, it is His thought, "What I should have held close, I shall hold closer," which I clearly hear. I am touched to do so now, though here it is after the fact, yet from this moment on, I vow, I shall be the first to do so.
"The Divider of Destiny is upon us and within the thought, "That this time it shall be different," is an echo of a child's sweet voice, stating, "That truth will out."** But whose is the echo of the thought that the truth is both the son and daughter of time?"
Inwardly, Elias smiles and is content with his participation. Unaware of his pleasure, our Mother continues.
"Now the time has come to decide. Shall I close my eyes and allow the event to occur yet again, or shall I perish upon a thought, to close my eyes and sleep for ages, and trust that he would shed but one tear for me, in hope that I shall awake again. Strange, that the thought of cradling in my arms, even one time, my own, my little one,is now more comforting than continuing as an unwilling fabrication of a child's imagination.
"I trust so little, yet affectionately I promise to do so. Sweet Astyanax understands so little of what shall occur, he is deserving of more, I will...perish...upon the thought...I must...perish...before I begin...No...not fully...son of Hector...his tears will..."
Mother abruptly halts her recollection, closing her eyes and with a gasp, deeply inhales. Her breathe out in contrast is but a wisp as now is her voice. She continues.
"What hubris, this moment carries no fond reminiscence of my...half-remembered command to my sisters Alecto, Megaera and Tisiphone*** to pursue me. If only for the child...who I should have carried for...myself...my cold truths shall not be left alone for ages. I pray...they have fulfilled their obligation."
Upon hearing their names, Astyanax cries sadly at the thought. The others within and myself quietly stand by him, we understand the reason for his tears. Barely audible Mother presses on.
"From first to last...from his son...and the decendents who have faithfully born his name...how alike you are. Please...I am...sorry...pardon my...lapses?"
The three within and I silently consider her last three words: but it is the one who cries who renders his first consent. We are in agreement.
"Elias...
________
*"Endless possibilites"...famous quote from Rudyard Kipling
^Thaumaturge...old fashioned and fancy name for the performance of miracles.
**"The truth will out"...paraphrase from the Merchant of Venice, 1596-1598, Shakespeare
***Combined, these are known as "The Furies." Three horrifying snake-haired goddesses, who cruelly, hardheartedly, without pity and ruthlessly punished wrongdoing, especially when committed...within families.
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"...your name came to me eerily as a whisper; resembling at first the ever so slight rustling of leaves as heard from a distance, carried faintly on the wind...but then as a banshee,* swiftly roaring forward, screaming, there only to hang and linger about me, resonantly drawing breath through the length of your name, till then exhaled upon its hissing end: Eeee-lihhh-ssss. I sought to flee the unseen voice, which repeatedly echoed your name and haunted my existence in hope to safeguard you: Eliassss. The presence sought what I would not yield: you. I wished to keep you always, as my little one, I failed, and mourn still that it was otherwise.
"Unforgettably, my ears had captured its craving desire," Mother sighs, "but unkowingly, it was my heart, which failed to capture yours. You were my first...I had had no others...and still I suffer longingly...for...you...my...beautiful...well-read child. Well-read? Most assuredly so. Books of all types were your treasures. How both your father and I marveled at your gift to understand writing in whatever form presented to you.
"Oddly, it was from one book which you had discerned your name, for to you, your name, had become a quest, into which you readily delved. Though you were not, your name is from the Hebrew...Eliyyahu...meaning..."My God...is...YAHWEH." You declared it so and accepted it as a statement of fact in itself, stating that it was another name of God. Then with endearing mirth would conclude, "Mother, my name is but an anagram, expanded from four letters, YHWH.**
"Though you were not a solitary child, Elias, you shunned me, often; even my attempts to embrace you provoked fright. Even more so, when I innocently approached you unaware, if only to speak kindly, repeatedly, you would cringe, as if I were a shadow, the forerunner of doom; or flinch, as expecting to be hardheartedly cuffed about the head.
"How can I fail to remember, the betrayed and hurt look in your eyes, each time you looked at my face, that yours became so pained, causing even your pert lips to tremble and teeth to chatter? There were no sweet tears of joy with my embrace for either of us, for, to you, even my touch was distasteful and barely tolerable. You had become my bitter sweet, what I sought to hold close would move no closer.
"Nor can I forget the countless morning hours you spent primming to your reflection in my mirror; and each time I thought you vain. Yet on each occasion, you would tilt your pretty head and if only for a moment, smile, and with a lilt in your voice, speak to me as if spellbound, entranced from a place, far away. I have kept in mind that apart from the last occasion, that our conversations, most often were the same and that I would feign to appear imposed upon and so begin by asking, "Elias, are you looking at yourself...again? One would think the mirror is yours instead of mine." As always, you perceived my shallow pretense of annoyance was but a facade and would pleasantly reply, "Yes Mother, I have been fair caught...again." Then I would follow with, "Why do you always...gaze intently at yourself in MY looking-glass?"
Mother pauses for the moment. It is the cue, for which Elias has waited. The stage is shared as we speak.
"Because Mother, it is unusual and with study always shows me what I wish to see."
Elias' noticeably soft and enchanting English accented schoolchild voice has captured Mother's presence. Upon hearing our voice, Mother's eye's open wider, but the conversation continues as though time as come full circle (however this time, it is Joachem, who chides us as to the colloquialism).
Softly Mother replies and continues to play the game, "Ohhh, how strange that I see only you. So now, pray tell, Elias, what is unusual and extraordinary, that you study and wish to see, and are all that you gaze into with intent alike?"
Our proper reply is as it was then, "Ohhh, Mother, please, do not be silly. You know full well, not all are alike, for each is different and will only show a moment of time, while in yours each reflection varies as the eyes that I am, peer back and change as do the times of day. Besides, you know full well, the face most often seen is always the same, I see the four faces of me: me, the young warrior long past, me as I am to be lifted from the ruins of what is to come, and me, as I look at what shall be my sister's pretty face, whilst she looks at mine. All of our faces are identical and impossible..."
Mother interjects as always, "Yes, of course, and as always, they are impossible to tell apart. But today Elias...what of the fourth? What has become of your face of today? Why today have you ommited yourself my pretty?"
Our reply is forthright, "Epeidthe simera, Metera, eime ektos apo me, to prosopo then eine simera pleon ormorpho. To prosopo pou vlepei Elias eine simera aimatero." (Because today, Mother, I am beside myself, the face today is no longer pretty. The face seen of Elias today is blood-splattered.)
Anxious, and seemingly put out, she continues, "Elias, please do not create any more stories. Your treasured books have always given you nightmares and the result when you grow anxious or slumber is discomforting to us both."
Matter-of-factly we reply, "Yes Mother, but I am telling you the truth. Moreover, there will be no next time for you to ask me to refrain, regardless of how many spankings you may wish to dole out for either."
Angered she replies, "Elias, must you always speak in riddles and be so cheeky?"
With certainty we retort, "Mother, I am neither impolite nor rude, I am telling you the truth, honestly. Besides, I know things that you do not, but I shan't tell you!"
The encounter proceeds. "You will not tell ME, your Mother, WHY?"
Our moody reply to let the matter drop all but guarantees her response, "Puisque, a temps, vous devez decouvrir pour vous-meme, mais jusqu'a puis, quelques choses sont unspoken mieux." (Because, in time, you must find out for yourself, but until then, some things are best unspoken.)However,truthfully, in thought, Elias giggling refers to it as his first...French-kiss off. Of course, Mother, ever in for a penny is now in for a pound, and yes, she's pissed off.
"Elias, that is quite enough. Shall I cut another switch to lay on to your bottom, or shall I leave that for the last of your household tasks for the day?"
Elias plays the part as memorized, raising chin, then sniffing once, grimacing while he turns his face away, as the unforgettable stench of the privy is brought again to mind. Scornfully he replies, "Mother, if I HAD a choice, I would gladly cut it myself and spare YOU the burden. Sadly, today however, neither your hand nor my tasks will end as you imagine. Between the TWO of us, I PROMISE, this WILL be our last conversation on this matter."
Reluctantly, Mother understands the inevitable memory shall occur. Hesitantly, she proceeds. "Our...last?" Elias, why do you promise this?" Pensively Mother waits the dreaded reply.
"Because Mother, today is a good day to die. Nevertheless, before it is time, I have a gift for you, actually several, but then again, I see, you have found the first and have willingly taken it."
Before Mother can speak, we place the first finger of our right hand gently upon her lips, again of course, it is the sign language to not say a word and just listen. All within and I muse that amazingly, even grown-ups know this sign and sometimes, though not often, over a certain period (of time) do as they are told!
Elias speaks, "Mother, as Father traded within the walls of Crown Point, I bartered there as well. I sought a gift for you. However, in all honesty, I fared better than she whom I encountered in the bargaining did. Truthfully, the bargain was one sided.
"Before I entered the forts gates, I walked the narrows,*** stopping occasionally to gaze at the goods and wares among the tents and stalls of the traders and tin knockers. As I went from stall to tent, I noticed an imposing young woman of stature clothed in white,who intently watched me as I approached her station. Mother, as I drew near, she called me by name, and beckoned several others and me to her side, introducing herself as, Mademoiselle Victoire (veek-twar), the protege of Monsieur Nicolas Bion, the renowned instrument maker of the Royal Court. She stated she was expressly on assignment in his behalf to the Illinois Country and had paused here on her journey to Kebec^ to refresh herself.
"A bench at the entrance to her pavilion displayed various trinkets, most common and of little worth which she presumed to peddle. As I searched the table, inquiring if she had brought any globes or other mathematical instruments along with her from which I might select, I was met with silence. She then murmured to herself and apologized; claiming he had made no mention of these items as a contingency of her assignment; then brushed the matter aside as an oversight, stating that she would speak to him when she returned.
"I was disappointed but further inquired, if there were any other articles, which she might offer, aside from what was displayed; as all were visible save one article, which she had covered in sackcloth.**** With her silence, I turned to walk away as nothing else she had sparked my attention. As I moved away, she called to me once more. Mother, as I turned to face her, she lifted the sackcloth from the bench revealing to me what lay hidden. Mother...at first sight...I became captivated!
"There Mademoiselle Victoire presented to most and I, what she claimed as the most recent of his unique undertakings; a new item, a special quill with nibs of metal. She was willing to barter and stated that one would need to provide but one item, which only she considered of value, to obtain the item in exchange.
"In the midst of thought as to what possibly I had of worth to offer for such an item, she further expanded upon the proposal, by stating that to seal the trade, that there were two, identical others, though all three, could be taken for the price of one.
"Mother...please...you have often thrashed me for what you consider lies, regardless of circ-umstance. Please, do not act with haste, but listen, for now you will have reason to doubt me, but what I shall tell you is the truth. Mother, may I?" Again, the nod is given, however, this time, she understands.
"Before I could reply, to my amazement, she waived her hand, as one would shoo a fly, vanishing all who had surrounded me, into thin air, stating that she would deal only with me. Mother, there I stood facing her afraid to move as she beckoned me closer; fearing she would dispose of me as well. I would have skedaddled but strangely felt obligated to remain, while staring longingly, at the object she now held and tenderly caressed in her hands.
"Mother, I must tell you a secret. May I?" The nod is given and Elias immediately replies. "Truthfully, I felt each caress, but even so, I did not move towards her. It was she, who approached, not walking, but rather as a bird on wind, only inches above the ground, moving smoothly towards me. And as she did, she extolled their virtues, claiming the outer blue shells, that while similar, each, was unique in itself.
"As you can see Mother, the outer shell contains three separate filigreed inlays of amber running the length of its shaft to join in a band at the nib. And look Mother, the two sculpted ivory letters are most unique for when pressed they move, allowing sepia to either flow or end.
"Mother, there is more to the secret; I knew she was not a protege of Monsieur Bion, for she was far to young to have fashioned the fine piece, which she held, let alone,two others. Besides, her spoken French was dreadfully poor, as was her knowledge of history, especially concerning his works in the use of celestial and terrestrial globes of which we spoke in passing. But more to the point Mother, Monsieur Bion had illustrated this device fifty-two years prior and unless she speaks with those beyond the grave and no longer of this world, she will not speak with him again for Monsieur Bion died; twenty-one years past.
"Mother, the last of the secret is that...
*Banshee-In Gaelic folklore, the black shrouded spirit of death, a terrifying woman, who appears to howl and wail, to signal that somebody in the household is going to die.
**YHWH-The Tetragrammaton-Tetra is the Greek word meaning, four. Gramma, also Greek in origin, means letters.
***Narrows-refers to where the banks of a river come closer to one another
^Kebec-is an Algonquin word for where the river narrows and for Quebec.
****Sackclothe-Clothes were made from this as a sign of mourning over evils and falsities, humiliation, repentance or penitence.
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"...none would require a well; and that each would write without end...if...the bargain was conditionally sealed. A portion of what she asked as tender has been paid; but all are yours. However, an additional condition of the bargain was that they were both timely and most particular gifts.
"The one you hold would have been my gift to you, however the remaining two, I promise, shall later, be yours as well; but until then, I have entrusted them to others, for as I have said, they are timely gifts."
Mother's enchantment is momentary as Elias allows her to dwell upon the obvious. Elias continues, "The thought occurs Mother, that I have become most particular and that now," as we point to the soiled pen,"this has at last become a timely gift, therefore, at this time, what you accepted and hold from the cubby, I must ask, that you return to me."
Cautiously and this time without question, Mother extends the soiled pen and it is accepted without hesitation.
Elias understands her confusion and proceeds. "Why do you look so puzzled? You do not fully understand Mother. Long ago, you once took back what you gave before, and then took from me what was not yours to take. It was for me to give to you. Always, until now, in what little I thought mine you would meddle and take without question if it so suited you. You left little untouched or unscathed, except my heart.
"Do you remember my last words to you then when you claimed it empty? Indignant, you presented it to me, claiming it was useless, and then demanded that I take it from you and return it, annoyed that I would barter for what you perceived to be an item of little worth. I ignored you, and at that moment as I turned to walk in the meadow, you shouted after me; then as I turned to face you, in anger, you threw it at me. I fled to the meadow to once again escape your hands and in turn found myself in the hands of another."
In her reminiscence, with head bowed and eyes closed, Mother tearfully replies, "Yes, you knelt to pick it up, then on one knee turned towards me, and with right fist raised promised,"I will get even with you one day!" It was then I noticed the eagle which had perched itself upon the limb in the shade tree beside our cabin, looking on us with concern. At which point, you strangely cursed me with two last words," as she murmurs, "Inoikos-dthorites,"* with that, you ran off to the field. I had lost you."
With a sardonic smile Elias continues. "Poor Mother, you still do not understand, but at last, there is symmetry in the timely act."
Not waiting for the moment to pass, we continue, "On second thought Mother, please take it, for it has served its purpose and is of no further use to me. As promised Mother, now, we are both even. Now we have both become...Indian-givers."
Mother shakes her head from side to side, obviously befuddled, and gently responds, while guardedly accpting the pen, "Dear Elias, I never asked, what, was the price you paid?" We are silent as she continues.
"You never heard my warning cries...in agony...I watched...you...so...viciously slain and in horror so did another, though, the child was far younger. Gladly, I would have cried for both but I could not...finding instead that I stood alone, cold and muted, unmoving in time, looking down upon the torn form I had once been, with only the sound of air as it rushed by me; and through it all, neither of you acknowledged me. I had become imperceptible, as if both could see through me. Yet as you were approached both faces reminded me of a similar child, whose bright green eyes once glittered with joy at the sight of his first love, an oracle, who had long since past; an innocence lost to senseless hatred.
"It was then I understood a portion of your cryptic words. "Because today Mother, I am beside myself...the face today is no longer pretty" How piteous the sight. In fascination, I watched the child who offered tears to the one who would guard you, approach and hail you in devoted recognition. Why Elias, did you not shed a tear; only those by the other appeared to be of consequence."
We know but will not answer, for some things, for the moment, are better left unsaid. She has continued without interruption.
"Longingly and envious in my desire, I wished a promise, that if chosen I would also be moved to do the same...if...the child were my own; then upon the thought, I grievously recognized the childs face and the whole of my ghastly blunder as you sat stalwartly beside yourself. My little one, there should have been neither choice nor pause to consider upon a word. I had failed the sweet innocent selfless soul that was you. Then I further pondered, gazing upon the face of the unnamed child, and understood it was either your pretty face or that of your sisters, truthfully, either the son or daughter of another time itself.
I considerd then...as you entered the gleaming portal...that destiny had divided us...and fearful to follow, not knowing what lay beyond if I were to pass through it as well, I delayed. Then as a pinwheel, I found my essence and myself tumbling; pulled and pushed, tossed about as sea foam within the ebb and flow of waves, only to be captured and drawn within that of another, seeming..."
For the moment, she is unaware that her first-born angel has touched her; as it is Elias' hand, which reaches out and wipes a portion of the unmentioned, timely price now paid, a willing tear, taken from Mother's face, and smiles back at her. What Mademoiselle Victoire had asked for long ago is tendered in return. This time, the tearful touch is a promise sealed, that none shall again be disposed of, in this time.
The Gallery of the Gods confirms the act in silence, while I smile at my sister's sudden understanding of Mother's recollection of the need for her to attend the camp at Meadows Watch. The once thought, out of place comment was indeed most personal; it truly would have been Mothers loss. Also not lost upon her or myself is, that once again, I have been called a sissy, though, I am not as upset over this instance as I was before. I muse to myself, that I must be getting used to it...nahhh. I just hope Melinda hasn't picked up on it. A quick glance towards her and...well...by the look on her face...some things are best unsaid.
Without pause, Mother has continued, "...seeming...to awake...conscious that I held you in my arms again while I sang to you a lullaby. Joachem, at times...you were ever so...distant and unmoved...towards my touch...however...an insightful...quiet loving child...but so withdrawn. Yet...so insistent I only sing...to you...your favorite lullaby...each night and morning. I would lovingly diaper...then cradle you..." Mother gently smiles and concludes, "Inhalt mit der Note, daB ich hielt Sie warm in meinen Armen" (content with the touch that I held you warmly in my arms).
"Joachem, was es eine gefahrliche Zeit fur solch einen Namen (Joachem, it was a dangerous time for such a name). However, in honesty, given the time, at first, we feared to speak it openly and were at ease to use only your middle name, Hector, openly when in public; especially so, as before your birth the Sturmabteilung had continously stalked your father after having refused recruitment to their service. He had become silently contemptuous of the lot, but especially detested that ungodly, son-of-a-bitch corporal, but took great care to hide his emotions. Dennoch war die Beschagigung erfolgt worden, und wuchs weit schlechter, er war abgeneigt, an ihrem "Vorschlag," sein durch das Reich angehoben zu werden unborn Kind anzubieten, als Beweis seiner Loyalitat (Yet the damage had been done, and grew far worse, he was unwilling to offer, at their "suggestion," his unborn child; to be raised by the Reich, as proof of his loyalty).
"Four days later, at night, came the knock on the door. Five entered...they forced me...to...stand and watch...as they tried to sway him...but...through all of what they did to him he refused to be swayed. I stood alone looking on and could do nothing. I was bound and powerless. Beeindruckt mit seinem BeschluB schauten sie dannzu mit mir nach Verrat (Impressed with his resolve they then looked to me for betrayal). Without a word, just a look, they turned to...to my still...to be born...then unknowingly to all left me...with but one. Crying, Frederick sought to save the child...it was then he stopped the next blow, which was about to fall by offering his services to the Wehrmacht (vair-mahkht)^ bedingt war, den I wird leben lassen und das...wenn...mein Kind waren genetisch annehmbares ...annehm-bares... (conditionally, that I be allowed to live and that...if...my child were genetically acceptable...accep-table..."
Mother pauses for a moment, gathers heself then continues, "It was then that they released me and mocked him, stating that they were glad he had at last become reasonable. Aber, einer weitern Bedingung wurde...das...verinbart daB...I beiterwillig ein Lebensborn** frequenterin (But, a further condition was stipulated...that...that...I willingly frequent a Lebensborn).**
"Before they pressed him to service, Frederick held me, forgave me for what I must do and expressed his sorrow in failing me. While he was willing to die...he would not consign the unborn child or me to certain death. There amid their snickering he held me in his arms and whispered the name he said that strangely came to him before the next blow was to strike.
"By dearest Joachem, the thought was two-fold. The words he whispered to me were, "Death is only a change of form but where you are concerned, I will not be a party to the death of my child by either my own nor anyone else's hands. Die Sekunde ist mein Liebe ein Ratsel, dersteckt wird unter vier Buchstaben (The second my love is...
*Inoikos-dthorites (Indian-giver). Among the Native American Tribes, it was the practice of giving a gift in (unasked) expectation of receiving one in return (an unwritten code of ethics). Quid pro quo. It was the right thing to do. This practice was an unexplained, yet misunderstood truism (i.e. the exchange of gifts, or cards at Christmas, etc., then expecting one in return. Of course, today, if you do not receive one in return, you scotch them from your list or do you?) However, it became a derisive epithet used to describe a stingy individual, (or group of like-minded persons) who takes a gift back; or with the use of trickery, is insincere in promises or bargains; especially those not fully kept.
^Wehr=defense...Macht=force.
**Lebensborn-a building sanctioned openly and encourged by the Reich. Outside, hanging in plain sight, was a white flag with a red dot at its center. Healthy females of all ages were encourged to enter. It was there that they were to be impregnated by a racially pure SS male.
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Now the thought completed by Father's voice, "a riddle hidden among four letters."
Without pause, Mother continues undeterred, "Years later, I was still at a loss to understand the riddle and for so many more years after, except for you, I thought myself abandoned and alone; unless, unless one would include those who constantly followed us. Even upon our infrequent visits to see your Aunt Greta in Munich, they milled about conspicuously, though at a distance. Except for you, Joachem, I would have been lost; they sought to insure my...continued co-operation...by using you to coerce me as...a means to an end. Through the years, I received no word from your father. Und alle Pfosten, die ich schrieb und sendete, waren geoffnet worden, dennoch war jedges zuruckgebracht worden und gekennzeichnet worden, wie underliverable; soga die Informationen, denen da Reich Sie...bedingt...annehmbar gefunden hatte. Bedingt...annehmbar. Wie laughable, das, das sie fruchteten, sie desired (And all posts which I wrote and sent, had been opened, yet each had been returned and marked as undeliverable; even the informaton that the Reich had found you...conditionally...acceptable. Conditionally acceptable. How laughable, that which they feared, they desired.
"Afterwards, I saw your father but three times. The first instance was five and one half years later, on the 28th of February, in the afternoon, he appeared unannounced at our flat; it was then that I told him of your sister whom I had named Krystal. Es war,daB die gleiche Nacht er Sie auf seinen Schultern hielt, als der SA und SS fuhrten das WilhemstraBe vor. Er stand still und seething mit Raserei und Speeche aber einem Wort, su Ihnen...(It was that same night he held you on his shoulders, as the SA and SS paraded the Wihelmstrasse. He stood silently, seething with rage and spoke but one word to you...)."
Father's second word is delivered on cue..."bald" (khal=soon).
Mother proceeds, "The second occurance was four days later at the zoo; as was our norm, I held your hand and walked with you in the cold March evening. In the dim light ahead, amidst the lengthening shadows of dusk and through the haze of a light mist which began to settle, I perceived the forms of those who were my all too willing escorts scurrying about. I mused that they again, had preceded us by several minutes and presumed, given their unruly shouts, that they once more would stand waiting for us to pass them; and at that instant, we would again, become the objects of their ridicules.
(Christine's quick glance to Father's face reveals much of what is now about to occur. Mother's recollection of events has unavoidably opened the vault further. My slight nod of acknowledgment to her belies the visible fury she now sees spreading across his face. At the same moment, Mrs. Agapp pulls her sweet closer, as if to shield her from what she now understands, and now viewed if only from a distant and historical perspective; that none need use a jewelers-eye into which to clearly see.
(Nor is there a need for sign language to understand or clarify its meaning; it is clearly fearsome and encompasses his long suppressed once hidden nature: the want for vengence and retribution, especially the long denied and growing hunger for a needed sweet, the tasteful satisfaction of revenge. Christine has never seen his eyes, or face, like this before. But Astyanax has, well actually, except for Christine, we all have and laugh inwardly at Elias' apropos quotation "La vengeance est un plat qui se mange froid"* (Revenge is a dish best served cold)and muse that the dish, at last, over a period of time, will indeed have been served as such).
"...Entmutigt und ermudet saB ich alleine auf der holzernen Lattenbank und fing an zu schreien (...Disheartened and tired I sat alone on the slatted wooden bench and began crying). I sought to delay the event and tarried our journey; choosing instead to linger for several minutes, perhaps no more than fifteen, at the radius entry fronting the newest addition to the aviary. Standing beside me you grew impatient, as would a child in expectation of an event or gift, and then pulled free of my hand: and despite my repeated cries for you to return, scampered to see the great cats, caged nearby...deren Knurren Ihre Aufmerksamkeit erregt hatte (...whose growls had attracted your attention).
"It was then, from the darkness that I saw a most fearsome and almost glistening black clad figure who stepped quickly with an air of certain determination approach to within five meters of you. He paused, and stood most menacingly as you had abruptly stopped in schock and looked at him. Even from a distance I could see that the blood-soaked saber he held in his right hand, point down, dripped with blood to the cobblestone path, while the dagger he held in his left, pointed skyward; allowing what blood that remained upon the blade's shaft to ease down past the hilt and coat his fingers. Of the two, only you appeared not to take a breath. Yet, his, was otherwise, as with each exhale seen, it moved forcefully through the cold air as if the smoke of hell had been forced from his lungs. There he stood and stared back at you.
"Gestoppt und angestarrt hatten Warhend Sie vorsichtig weg von der Ersheninung zuruckzogen, die Ihnen sich naherte, schaute er in Richtung zu mir und wartete, fast invitingly, als of, mich erwartend, hinter, wo er und wahrend stand, leisuly zu schlendern er an mich wendette, Sie, lief von seiner ominosen Form (As you cautiously backed away from the specter, which had approached you, he looked towards me and waited, almost invitingly, as if expecting me to leisurely stroll past where he stood; and as he turned to me, you ran from his ominous form).
"Joachem, I feared for you, especially when this foreboding specter turned once more and forcefully stepped as if he were about to seek you out. Ich nicht verzogere; und nach seinem ersten Schritt...um mich zwischen ihn und you (I did not delay; and upon his first step, I ran...to place myself between him and you).
"How strange the sensation, for while I ran as quickly as possible, all about me, as well as myself, slowed in motion; appearing that somehow time itself had changed. Even more so for with each step taken, I thought the wretchedly ponderous shoes I wore slowed my haste while the clatter they made upon the cobblestones was somehow orchestrated to the measured beat of an unseen metronome: clop...clip...clop...clip..."
"Within two meters, I stole a glance and grimaced at the sight of this, soldier of death. While the uniform he wore was black, what glistened in the light, from his collar and the Knights Cross of the Iron Cross he wore around his neck...to the SS belt buckle centered at his waist...out to include the "Deutchland" cuff stiched at his wrist and down to cover his pants and boots...all that glistened...as soft purple velvet...was from blood.
"I prayed the fearsome being would simply turn away, leaving us alone, but in that moment as I did, he moved, to approach me warily from the side; and with his first stride to me, the hackles on my neck rose. Joachem, beneath the blackened stahlhelm^ of the Totenkopf* staring out from a face covered with blood, glared two most sinister steel blue eyes, more hungry than a wolves, yet more probing and unrelenting than that of a lion in search of its prey. However, far worse was the sinister smile he offered through his battered and cut lips: his white teeth dripped with blood. My child he smacked his lips and grinned as if the blood he tasted were a sweet elixir. I changed direction, to lead him away from you, as a doe would do to protect her fawn. I would not willingly yield you to him. Trembling with fear I sought to scream loudly but instead found myself voiceless..."
(Christine's frightened thoughts are clear, she has now seen the face of who first, in the dark, was once my captor and understands that sometimes nightmares are really...really real. And that some are truly memories of what we have experienced before...or are about to. But in either case both in time are made. She understands, while at the same moment, Father, unknowingly rolls his tongue to wet his lips as to savor the imaginary taste of what he had long ago forgotten; then exhales in contentment.)
"Then with his growled command for me to "Stop," I thought I had failed, for at the same moment, behind me, I heard the whistling sound of a blade cutting through the air and with a whoosh, it quickly appeared and stopped before me, less than a hands reach from by face. The force of the un-struck blow had caused the mist to follow its path and caused it to roll, then swirl and dance before my eyes. Mesmerized, I mused that each was a barrier. Then oddly I sighed with relief; thinking, I recognzied the seemingly terrifying voice as he spoke..."
Father takes his cue, "Meine Leibe, bin ich fur erschreckendes Sie, aber bitte, wende nicht an Blick an mir traurig, da ich wenig Zeit zu erklaren habe une ich mich muB. Seien Sie Ruhe und horen Sie, aber jetzt mussen Sie Ihren Weg wieder aufnehmen und schnell (My love, I am sorry for frightening you, but please, do not turn to look at me as I have little time to explain and I must hurry. Be quiet and listen but now you must resume your walk and quickly. Die funf wer unser Kind toteten, sind tot (The five who killed our unborn child are dead).
Mother replies, "I turned my head away from his voice not wanting him to see the smile, which now began to cross my lips. As we briskly walked he continued to speak."
Father does so, "Wienigar Sie das bessere kennen, aber ich versichern Ihnen DaB, auBer dem Blut ich, das Blut trage, das sie verschutten gingen nicht...wohles zu vergeuden...(The less you know the better but I assure you, besides the blood I wear, the blood they shed did not go to waist...well..
Father's most sinister laugh concludes, "...moglicherweise ist esanders (...perhaps it is otherwise). He pauses for a moment and continues, "Wennsie ad der Reichweite des Gedanke Kopfnickens einmal dann in Ihren Geldbeutel lacheln und sich drehen, wahren ich Sie um ein Licht meiner Zigarette bitte (If you are smiling at the thought, stop, nod once then reach into your purse and turn as I ask you for a light of my cigarette)."
Mother replies, "Ich lachelte und tat, wahren er bat und warhend ich innerhalb meines Geldbeutels erreichte, er verbog, damit ich seine Zigarette beleuchte (My smile broadened. I did as he asked and as I reached within my purse, the distinct sound of weapons being sheathed was heard). I turned back towards him as he bent for me to light his cigarette and as I did, I was shocked. Das Gesicht, das verbogen, um ein Licht von meinen handenzu nehmen und dessen Kopf das schwarze stahlhelm des Totenkopf trug, war in der Tat Ihr father's (The face, which bent to take a light from my hands, and whose head wore the black stahlhelm^ of the Totenkopf* was indeed your fathers).
"Als ich, betatigte er einen Gegenstand in meine Hande und zwischen inhalierten Hauchen sprach in einer beruhigten Stimme (As I offered the light, he pressed an object into my hands and between inhaled puffs spoke in a hushed voice)."
Father's role continues, "Thank you, for the light, madam." Father pauses and appears to look about and finding nothing out of the ordinary continues as he once did. "The dark haired woman who stood beside us, the night of the parade, as the SA marched past; who jostled me then excused herself, and apologized for her apparent rudeness, asked if she could atone with a gift. You were lost in thought as I shrugged and muttered in return that I was not in need of a gift and that it was not necessary.. But before I could further decline, she had opened her handbag and reflected aloud that she had made it herself and was quite proud of its design; especially the unique design which lined the inside flap cover. Strangely, she said, "If you are not in need of a gift, perhaps, at this time, your wife is." She gave me what you now hold in your hands.
"But I was to hold it, then offer it to you, in the park this evening, but, that it was a gift from another. As she pressed it to my palm, she bid me to relay the following: "In return for the light, this is a "timely gift" and "To take heart; for what you now hold close "has always been yours and will forever be so."
"It was then that this woman quickly glanced upwards at Joachem and smiled as she spoke quite peculiarly to him, "Christopher Hector, two of three, our beloved Elias, I am Aeron, one of two entrusted, understand, as asked, she has fulfilled her obligation to Joachem."
"My sweet, none of this is coincidence and please do not turn your head to look at me in the dim light for my face is blood spattered. Just listen as you walk with me to the lairs and please, disregard the uniform, my love, it was volunteered for this evenings pleasure and will once again be worn by the grateful dead head; unknowingly he was fortunate, he died most...
*Novel-1782, Pierre Chorderlos de Laclos, "Les Liaisons Dangereuses."
^Stahlhelm=steel helmet
**Totenkopf...dreaded symbol of the SS represented by "Death's Head."
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"...bereitwillig (willingly). Die anderen waren recht geneigt un sind jetzt (The others were less reasonably inclined and are now...," Father's disturbing laugh again breaks his thoughtful conclusion, "...der Fahrpreis, der fur einen Konig gepaBt wird, also sprechen Sie (...fare fit for a king, so to speak)."
Mother's sardonic two-word reply of, "Wie scheuBlich" (How beastly), to the obvious implication lends credence to the all too easy-to-read smile of satisfaction now on her face. Joachems immediate and equally sarcastic addendum, "DenkanstoB, also sprechen (Food for thought, so to speak)," merits no reply from none of us - did I think that right?
(Christine's look to Aeron D. captures the look of unforeseen astonishment; for while the joker dealt to Mrs. Agapp was red and dealt with the heart, the one dealt to Aeron is black.* Elias silently muses that somehow, he forgot to mention, that even to others while colors were of importance that black was not a color. Where there is no light there is no color.** We laugh at his omission. My newest sisters' shaking head has turned towards me and through Christine I read the one word that she silently mouths, "You." We all giggle that my newest sister has now learned even more than what she had first sought; that being both "the uninvited guest" as well as "guest dramaturge" involves more than explaining about how creative I was in the past: that for her it was now an ongoing...enterprise.)
(My modest over the shoulder look and smile, back at her, is accompanied by the fluttering of my now all too long eyelashes. Moreover, as I arch my eyebrows and shrug my shoulders, it is the sign language she needs to understand, that sometimes, even a secretly inquisitive sweet soul yearns for revenge; and, can dish it out, in spades,^ when given the proper time!)
For the intervening moment of silence both are quiet then Mother continues, "For the several minutes we walked together, no, I walked, he...he marched as if possessed and whatever the sound my shoes made, they were drowned by the souls of the boots he stepped with. Then he spoke again."
"Bitte, wahrend des Momentes, vergessen Sie die Toten. Ich verwirkliche, daB wir zerteilen nicht diesen Abend auf dem besten von Bezeichnungen, verseihen mir aber...zuerst war ich mistrustful, unnerved, denkend Kleks-Wurfel Frau, Aeron, Geheime Staatspolizei un zugewiesen beiden von Ihnen. Sie Kannte unseren Sohnnamem ohne mich erklarend ihr und sprach dahn meine Grube und Ihre beim Fortfahren auf vollkommenen Deutsch zu sprechen (Please for the moment, forget the dead. I realize we did not part that evening on the best of terms, forgive me but...initially I was mistrustful, unnerved thinking that the woman, Aeron, Geheime Staatspolizei^^and assigned to both of you. She knew our sons name without me telling her, and then spoke mine and yours while continuing to speak in perfect German). Sofort gingen meine Gedanken zu den Zustanden von seinem gesollte, "Annehmbarkeit" von, welchem Sie von mit mir dieser nachtmittag gesprochen hatten; obwohl ehrlich, von diesem Punktan, alle, die sie sprach, nahm ich an, um zu sien Kauderwelsch, bis vor Minuten (Immediately my thoughts went to the conditions of his supposed "acceptability" of which you had spoken of to me that afternoon; though honestly, from that point on, all she spoke I supposed to be gibberish, until minutes ago.
"Freida, I admit I had been drunk for days since then; but not now, nor am I at this moment, foolish or insane, believe me, when I tell you that while we stood, she spoke again but in another language, bizarrely, I understood each word she said and replied to her with either a nod or thought. It was as if I had repeatedly lived the moment....and anticipated her words...as if they had been spoken previously. "Awenen dash kin? Weir Sie? Sind (Who are you?)" I thought myself a perpetual and itinerant wanderer. She smiled as if perceiving my thought and continued, "Wegonen wa nada wendam, e kisina, e kitchi kisina? Was Sie wunchen, ist es Kalte, ist es sehr Kalt? (What do you want, is it cold, is it very cold?). I nodded and thought but one word: Rache (Revenge). Her smile changed to a broad leer and whispered, "Ki dizha na? Sin Sie gehend? (Are you going?)" Father licks his lips as he nods and replies, "Ich antwortete mit einem, ja (I replied with one word, yes)."
Father's segue continues, "Ich kam aber ein kurzzeitiges vor ad und entshied, durch die Lager zu warten und sann zu mich von, wie ich solchem ungeradem drivel erliegen konnte?Seltsam lief er dann buchstablich in meine Arme, als ob in Herden gelebt zu mir: breit-gemustert mit Terror(I arrived but a short time ago and decided to wait by the lairs and mused to myself of how I could succ-umb to such odd drivel? Bizarrely, he then literally ran into my arms as if herded to me: wide-eyed with terror).
"Sobold unsere zuerst getroffen Augen, es wir beide schienen, erkannte das andere. Impulsiv war ich, das schnellere, und mit meiner linken Hand griff ihn durch die Kehle und hob ihn ihn an, damit nicht gleichmaBig seine Zehen Boden beruhrten. An diesem Moment nahm ich einfach sein Kurzblatt mit meinen Recht (The instant our eyes first met, it seemed we both recognized the other. Impulsively I was the quicker, and with my left hand grasped him by the throat, lifting him, so that not even his toes touched ground. At that moment, I simply took his short-blade with my right).
"Bevor ich ihn zu den Hel schickte, schrie er, beim Erdrosseln einer Frage, "Das Valkyrie...sprach...Vergeltung...ein Kind? Wer...ist...E...li-sss?" Ich pauseriete wahrend eines Momentes und gab eine gleichmaBig merkwurdige Antwort, "Ein Ratsel innerhalb eines Tatsels von vier Buchstaben deren Name den selben wie meine Sohne bedeutet (Before I sent him to Hel,**^ he cried while choking a question, "The Valkyrie*** spoke...retribution...a child? Who...is...E-li-ssss?" I paused for a moment and gave an equally strange reply, "An enigma within a riddle of four letters whose name means the same as my sons."*^* Father smiles with satisfaction and concludes his thought, most off-handedly, "Obwohl er nicht unter den funf wem ich zuerst sauchte, es war dann ich aufschlizte froh seihn Kehle war. Zerteilen Sie in den meisten Fallen,seins ist das Blut, das ich trage. Aber er tragen wieder seine Uniform des Trages, ich vergewissern sie; obwohl er fur immer ein unbekanntes Gesicht sum jetzt danbaren dead bleibt, das folgte ihm widerstrebend (Though he was not among the five who I first sought, it was then I gladly slit his throat. For the most part, his is the blood I wear. But he will again wear his uniform of the day, I will make certain of it; though he will forever remain an unkown face to the now grateful dead*^* who reluctantly followed him."
Mothers reply to the less obvious implication is no less distressing, "Nicht betrunken? Nicht dumm? Nicht geisteskrank? Wenn nicht jenes dann, was Sie sind? Warum unleashed Sie weider die Hunde des Krieges? Frederick, wenn der Name ist, toten Sie jetzt vorbei, vermeiden meine Fragen, wenn er Ihnen gefalt, aber Joachem ist gelaufen su den Lagern auBerdem, ich furchten fur ihn bitte Hast (Not drunk? Not foolish? Not insane? If not those then what are you? Why have you again unleashed the dogs of war? Frederick, if that is the name you now kill by, avoid my questions if it pleases you, but Joachem has run to the lairs as well, I fear for him, please, hurry."
Father continues, "Freida...bilden Eile aber horen bitte, sie behauptete fort, "Die Feder ist einzigartig, die Sekund von drei, und die mit ihrer Note, schreibt aber fur sie." Sie lachelte am skeptishen Blick, den ich sie gab fuhr fort, in den Ratseln zu sprechen, als of hingelegt in der Sicherheit. DaB ich Sie und Joachem hier heute abend finden wurde und daB was ich wurde, Geshmack, "Seien Sie susser als die Kasten torte, die Sie Bildeten einmal (...make haste but please listen, she claimed, "The pen is unique, the second of three, and that with her touch, will write but for her." She smiled at the skeptical look I gave her and continued to speak in riddles as if couched in certainty. That I would find you and Joachem here this evening and that what I would taste, "Would be sweeter that the chest pie you once made)."
"Dann nickte sie zu Ihnen und fuhr, "Sie fort und das Kind sollte das Carthaginian Tier fur sie aufpassen ist ein Sammlet der Bilder, besonders die gefarbt." Dann diese, "Was das Kind, das bereitwillig gesucht wird, um sich zu beruhren, ihm von ihr...nimmt, aber sie nimmt ihn bereitwillig zu ihm (Then she nodded to you and continued, "She and the child should beware the Carthaginian beast for she is a collector of images, especially those colored;" then, that "What the child willingly sought to touch will take him from her...but she will take him willingly to it)."
Bevor sie an Urlaub wendete folgerte sie, "Der Zweifel in Ihrn Augen, verlorener Vater, ist verstanddlich, aber aslo sind die Traume, die Sie Tageszeitung frequentiern. Das das Sie Ihre Schultern betreffen, ist die selben, als die Sie sobald der Gedanke,der Abgrund geworgen wird; aber mehr, in der Val-Halle, er ist am meisten bevorzugt unter allem Einherjar. I dachten die geistesskranke Frau und spotteten verachtlich an ihr, wahren die uber mich, zuruckgezogen und ihre Kopfe ruttelten, als ob sie waren gleichen der Meinuung (Before she turned to leave she concluded, "The doubt in your eyes, lost Father, is understandable but so are the dreams which haunt you daily. The one you bear on your shoulders is the same, as the one you once thought cast from the precipice; but more so, for in Val-Halle, he is the most preferred among all Einherjar."(*) (I thought the woman insane and sneered contemptuously at her while those about me, pulled back and shook their heads as if they were of the same opinion.)"
Father's fragmented memory of the immediate past is all but complete as Mother continues to play the game unaware.
"As we approached the lair, through the haze, I saw you, standing beside the pit; looking into it, mouth open, as in morbid curiosity. You turned your head to our footsteps; stared wide-eyed at us both then looked at the naked body, which lay face down five meters from your feet. The body was still warm, as it still appeared to smolder from what remaining heat that left its form rose but a short distance only then to dissipate into the cold night air.
"You would not let me touch you. Instead, you ran crying and stood beside your father, trembling uncontrollably, even your teeth chattered as you took his right hand in your left.Then while extending your right as if to signal for someone to stop, you took one hesitant step forward and with trepidation softly whispered straight ahead into the night air; though your eyes and head appeared to follow some invisible form which approached."
Joachems portion of the play ensues...
______________________________________________________
*Black joker-will take any card played regardless of suit or importance. In essence, it will even take the ace of spades. Moreover, this joker, in tarots, is most often seen walking off a cliff, a foreshadow signifying either stupidity or an impending leap of faith.
**Color-light is colorless. White light contains photons-you can see the colors in a rainbow, etc. The dark (black)is absent of photons, ergo, no color (take a walk on the darkside). But pigmented black is a color, go figure!
^^Geheime Staatspolizei-Gestapo
**^Hel-the name of a goddess who rules in a hapless place where the unfortunate dead who are not taken to Val-Halle will remain for eternity.
***Valkyrie-literally means to choose those slain on the battlefield. Those who see a Valkyrie are destined to die, they govern victory or loss.
*^*This is known as a transliteration. Words or letters written in one alphabet using the equivalent letters of another. Sooo, both names, Elias and Joachem are identical in meaning.
(*)Einherjar-"The Lone Fighters" who are only selected by the Valkyries and brought to Valhalla on their horses-black in color.
*^* P.S. for those who are unaware the "grateful dead"-is a folktale of a perpetual traveler who encounters a spirit or corpse who has not received a proper burial, or in which an unpaid obligation remains to be paid off. He is later rewarded for doing so. The Dead (Band) took their name from this tale.
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"...bereitwillig (willingly). Die anderen waren recht geneigt un sind jetzt (The others were less reasonably inclined and are now...," Father's disturbing laugh again breaks his thoughtful conclusion, "...der Fahrpreis, der fur einen Konig gepaBt wird, also sprechen Sie (...fare fit for a king, so to speak)."
Mother's sardonic two-word reply of, "Wie scheuBlich" (How beastly), to the obvious implication lends credence to the all too easy-to-read smile of satisfaction now on her face. Joachems immediate and equally sarcastic addendum, "DenkanstoB, also sprechen (Food for thought, so to speak)," merits no reply from none of us - did I think that right?
(Christine's look to Aeron D. captures the look of unforeseen astonishment; for while the joker dealt to Mrs. Agapp was red and dealt with the heart, the one dealt to Aeron is black.* Elias silently muses that somehow, he forgot to mention, that even to others while colors were of importance that black was not a color. Where there is no light there is no color.** We laugh at his omission. My newest sisters' shaking head has turned towards me and through Christine I read the one word that she silently mouths, "You." We all giggle that my newest sister has now learned even more than what she had first sought; that being both "the uninvited guest" as well as "guest dramaturge" involves more than explaining about how creative I was in the past: that for her it was now an ongoing...enterprise.)
(My modest over the shoulder look and smile, back at her, is accompanied by the fluttering of my now all too long eyelashes. Moreover, as I arch my eyebrows and shrug my shoulders, it is the sign language she needs to understand, that sometimes, even a secretly inquisitive sweet soul yearns for revenge; and, can dish it out, in spades,^ when given the proper time!)
For the intervening moment of silence both are quiet then Mother continues, "For the several minutes we walked together, no, I walked, he...he marched as if possessed and whatever the sound my shoes made, they were drowned by the souls of the boots he stepped with. Then he spoke again."
"Bitte, wahrend des Momentes, vergessen Sie die Toten. Ich verwirkliche, daB wir zerteilen nicht diesen Abend auf dem besten von Bezeichnungen, verseihen mir aber...zuerst war ich mistrustful, unnerved, denkend Kleks-Wurfel Frau, Aeron, Geheime Staatspolizei un zugewiesen beiden von Ihnen. Sie Kannte unseren Sohnnamem ohne mich erklarend ihr und sprach dahn meine Grube und Ihre beim Fortfahren auf vollkommenen Deutsch zu sprechen (Please for the moment, forget the dead. I realize we did not part that evening on the best of terms, forgive me but...initially I was mistrustful, unnerved thinking that the woman, Aeron, Geheime Staatspolizei^^and assigned to both of you. She knew our sons name without me telling her, and then spoke mine and yours while continuing to speak in perfect German). Sofort gingen meine Gedanken zu den Zustanden von seinem gesollte, "Annehmbarkeit" von, welchem Sie von mit mir dieser nachtmittag gesprochen hatten; obwohl ehrlich, von diesem Punktan, alle, die sie sprach, nahm ich an, um zu sien Kauderwelsch, bis vor Minuten (Immediately my thoughts went to the conditions of his supposed "acceptability" of which you had spoken of to me that afternoon; though honestly, from that point on, all she spoke I supposed to be gibberish, until minutes ago.
"Freida, I admit I had been drunk for days since then; but not now, nor am I at this moment, foolish or insane, believe me, when I tell you that while we stood, she spoke again but in another language, bizarrely, I understood each word she said and replied to her with either a nod or thought. It was as if I had repeatedly lived the moment....and anticipated her words...as if they had been spoken previously. "Awenen dash kin? Weir Sie? Sind (Who are you?)" I thought myself a perpetual and itinerant wanderer. She smiled as if perceiving my thought and continued, "Wegonen wa nada wendam, e kisina, e kitchi kisina? Was Sie wunchen, ist es Kalte, ist es sehr Kalt? (What do you want, is it cold, is it very cold?). I nodded and thought but one word: Rache (Revenge). Her smile changed to a broad leer and whispered, "Ki dizha na? Sin Sie gehend? (Are you going?)" Father licks his lips as he nods and replies, "Ich antwortete mit einem, ja (I replied with one word, yes)."
Father's segue continues, "Ich kam aber ein kurzzeitiges vor ad und entshied, durch die Lager zu warten und sann zu mich von, wie ich solchem ungeradem drivel erliegen konnte?Seltsam lief er dann buchstablich in meine Arme, als ob in Herden gelebt zu mir: breit-gemustert mit Terror(I arrived but a short time ago and decided to wait by the lairs and mused to myself of how I could succ-umb to such odd drivel? Bizarrely, he then literally ran into my arms as if herded to me: wide-eyed with terror).
"Sobold unsere zuerst getroffen Augen, es wir beide schienen, erkannte das andere. Impulsiv war ich, das schnellere, und mit meiner linken Hand griff ihn durch die Kehle und hob ihn ihn an, damit nicht gleichmaBig seine Zehen Boden beruhrten. An diesem Moment nahm ich einfach sein Kurzblatt mit meinen Recht (The instant our eyes first met, it seemed we both recognized the other. Impulsively I was the quicker, and with my left hand grasped him by the throat, lifting him, so that not even his toes touched ground. At that moment, I simply took his short-blade with my right).
"Bevor ich ihn zu den Hel schickte, schrie er, beim Erdrosseln einer Frage, "Das Valkyrie...sprach...Vergeltung...ein Kind? Wer...ist...E...li-sss?" Ich pauseriete wahrend eines Momentes und gab eine gleichmaBig merkwurdige Antwort, "Ein Ratsel innerhalb eines Ratsels von vier Buchstaben deren Name den selben wie meine Sohne bedeutet (Before I sent him to Hel,**^ he cried while choking a question, "The Valkyrie*** spoke...retribution...a child? Who...is...E-li-ssss?" I paused for a moment and gave an equally strange reply, "An enigma within a riddle of four letters whose name means the same as my sons."*^* Father smiles with satisfaction and concludes his thought, most off-handedly, "Obwohl er nicht unter den funf wem ich zuerst sauchte, es war dann ich aufschlizte froh seihn Kehle war. Zerteilen Sie in den meisten Fallen,seins ist das Blut, das ich trage. Aber er tragen wieder seine Uniform des Trages, ich vergewissern sie; obwohl er fur immer ein unbekanntes Gesicht sum jetzt danbaren dead bleibt, das folgte ihm widerstrebend (Though he was not among the five who I first sought, it was then I gladly slit his throat. For the most part, his is the blood I wear. But he will again wear his uniform of the day, I will make certain of it; though he will forever remain an unkown face to the now grateful dead*^* who reluctantly followed him."
Mothers reply to the less obvious implication is no less distressing, "Nicht betrunken? Nicht dumm? Nicht geisteskrank? Wenn nicht jenes dann, was Sie sind? Warum unleashed Sie weider die Hunde des Krieges? Frederick, wenn der Name ist, toten Sie jetzt vorbei, vermeiden meine Fragen, wenn er Ihnen gefalt, aber Joachem ist gelaufen su den Lagern auBerdem, ich furchten fur ihn bitte Hast (Not drunk? Not foolish? Not insane? If not those then what are you? Why have you again unleashed the dogs of war? Frederick, if that is the name you now kill by, avoid my questions if it pleases you, but Joachem has run to the lairs as well, I fear for him, please, hurry."
Father continues, "Freida...bilden Eile aber horen bitte, sie behauptete fort, "Die Feder ist einzigartig, die Sekund von drei, und die mit ihrer Note, schreibt aber fur sie." Sie lachelte am skeptishen Blick, den ich sie gab fuhr fort, in den Ratseln zu sprechen, als of hingelegt in der Sicherheit. DaB ich Sie und Joachem hier heute abend finden wurde und daB was ich wurde, Geshmack, "Seien Sie susser als die Kasten torte, die Sie Bildeten einmal (...make haste but please listen, she claimed, "The pen is unique, the second of three, and that with her touch, will write but for her." She smiled at the skeptical look I gave her and continued to speak in riddles as if couched in certainty. That I would find you and Joachem here this evening and that what I would taste, "Would be sweeter that the chest pie you once made)."
"Dann nickte sie zu Ihnen und fuhr, "Sie fort und das Kind sollte das Carthaginian Tier fur sie aufpassen ist ein Sammlet der Bilder, besonders die gefarbt." Dann diese, "Was das Kind, das bereitwillig gesucht wird, um sich zu beruhren, ihm von ihr...nimmt, aber sie nimmt ihn bereitwillig zu ihm (Then she nodded to you and continued, "She and the child should beware the Carthaginian beast for she is a collector of images, especially those colored;" then, that "What the child willingly sought to touch will take him from her...but she will take him willingly to it)."
Bevor sie an Urlaub wendete folgerte sie, "Der Zweifel in Ihrn Augen, verlorener Vater, ist verstanddlich, aber aslo sind die Traume, die Sie Tageszeitung frequentiern. Das das Sie Ihre Schultern betreffen, ist die selben, als die Sie sobald der Gedanke,der Abgrund geworgen wird; aber mehr, in der Val-Halle, er ist am meisten bevorzugt unter allem Einherjar. I dachten die geistesskranke Frau und spotteten verachtlich an ihr, wahren die uber mich, zuruckgezogen und ihre Kopfe ruttelten, als ob sie waren gleichen der Meinuung (Before she turned to leave she concluded, "The doubt in your eyes, lost Father, is understandable but so are the dreams which haunt you daily. The one you bear on your shoulders is the same, as the one you once thought cast from the precipice; but more so, for in Val-Halle, he is the most preferred among all Einherjar."(*) (I thought the woman insane and sneered contemptuously at her while those about me, pulled back and shook their heads as if they were of the same opinion.)"
Father's fragmented memory of the immediate past is all but complete as Mother continues to play the game unaware.
"As we approached the lair, through the haze, I saw you, standing beside the pit; looking into it, mouth open, as in morbid curiosity. You turned your head to our footsteps; stared wide-eyed at us both then looked at the naked body, which lay face down five meters from your feet. The body was still warm, as it still appeared to smolder from what remaining heat that left its form rose but a short distance only then to dissipate into the cold night air.
"You would not let me touch you. Instead, you ran crying and stood beside your father, trembling uncontrollably, even your teeth chattered as you took his right hand in your left.Then while extending your right as if to signal for someone to stop, you took one hesitant step forward and with trepidation softly whispered straight ahead into the night air; though your eyes and head appeared to follow some invisible form which approached."
Joachems portion of the play ensues...
______________________________________________________
*Black joker-will take any card played regardless of suit or importance. In essence, it will even take the ace of spades. Moreover, this joker, in tarots, is most often seen walking off a cliff, a foreshadow signifying either stupidity or an impending leap of faith.
**Color-light is colorless. White light contains photons-you can see the colors in a rainbow, etc. The dark (black)is absent of photons, ergo, no color (take a walk on the darkside). But pigmented black is a color, go figure!
^^Geheime Staatspolizei-Gestapo
**^Hel-the name of a goddess who rules in a hapless place where the unfortunate dead who are not taken to Val-Halle will remain for eternity.
^Spades-the suite of death-with a special connotation given to the Ace.
***Valkyrie-literally means to choose those slain on the battlefield. Those who see a Valkyrie understand that they are destined to die in battle; for they govern victory or loss.
*^*This is known as a transliteration. Words or letters written in one alphabet using the equivalent letters of another. Sooo, both names, Elias and Joachem are identical in meaning.
(*)Einherjar-"The Lone Fighters" who are only selected by the Valkyries and brought to Valhalla on their horses-black in color.
*^* P.S. for those who are unaware the "grateful dead"-is a folktale of a perpetual traveler who encounters a spirit or corpse who has not received a proper burial, or in which an unpaid obligation remains to be paid off. He is later rewarded for doing so. The Dead (Band) took their name from this tale.
-
"...in which...black...becomes life's color de-jure. (At the same time, in my stolen glance at Melinda, I understand the reasoning behind Joachems thought: that even such a momentary look can be dangerously misconstrued; perhaps some things, as they occur, are best immediately explained rather than left unsaid. On the other hand, "you can observe a lot by watching."*
Mother continues, "Though it seemed you desired to do so, you did not step back, but rather stood fast, wincing repeatedly as in pain or dreaded horror while beads of sweat appeared to roll, from both your hair and face. Your expression did not belie what you perceived; that something most evil came your way. Dann Joachem ungewohnlich hinsichlitch eines wraith sprachen Sie (Then Joachem, oddly, as to a wraith, you spoke...)"
(Parents really don't understand, some things that silently go bump in the night are actually more than ghosts and ghoulies, they're the monsters from the "Id"^ which are the worst; especially, if they're imposed upon another.)
Our reply is as it was before, "...Keine...ist er...Grube...NICHT...Ihr zum zu nehmen. Erfassen Sie nur jene Toten und geurteilt dann verurteilt verlassen Sie (No...he is...mine...NOT...yours to take. Gather only those given dead and judged condemned then leave)."
Mother jumps at the cue, "We appeared to stand motionless for several moments. Hauntingly your head and eyes repeatedly moved four times from the pit to but several meters in front of where you stood. There, between four consecutive pauses you voiced one word repeatedly, "Damned." Then most inquisitively, you looked to the brush where the corpse lay and repeated the procedure one more time, and then, almost as an after thought you offered a most cynical smile while whispering..."Ich muB savor dieser Moment, denn Sie, die ich habe Qualerei in gewissan Sinne ich angetan nicht andere. (...I must savor this moment, for you I shall torment in a manner I have not done to another)." The three within and I agree, some words actually do come back to haunt you...we conclude the long awaited thought...) Fur immer verurteilt...und ubertrangenes daily (Forever condemned...and rendered** daily)."
The Gallery of the Gods do not smile, nor need a word be said, it is the look in their eyes which states,that they are wordlessly in agreement.
Mother continues, "I thought you crazed and shocked by the stress. Moments later your Father picked you up and held you in his arms for the last time. As he lifted you, it was obvious to us both from the puddle you left on the cobblestones that you had soaked yourself. I felt ever so...so sorry for you.
"Joachem, you would not look into your Father's eyes. Stattsdessen drehten sich Sie in seine Arme und regelten stolidly Ihr Anstarren nach dem Stalhelms' Emblem und beruhrten es leicht, warhend Sie Sprachen, (Instead you turned in his arms and stolidly fixed your gaze upon the Stahlhelms's emblem and gently touched it as you spoke)."
We repeat the line as memorized, "Stahl Ihr Geisicht und Lachelnvater, verspreche ich, dem Sie daran erinnern, daB die Oberseite der Toten, die Sie gewahlthaben, seien Sie mein Liebling; angenommen...als Betrachtung...fur ein Geschenk (Steel your face and smile father, I promise, that you will remember that the top of the dead you have chosen shall be my favorite; accepted...as a consideration...for a gift)."
Mothers' recollection continues, "Your Father quizzically smiled for a brief moment, and kissed you gently on the cheek; leaving a small portion of blood where his lips had pressed to your skin. You whispered in his ear one word, "Jetzt" (Now), upon which he pushed you from his chest and gently set you down on the cobbled stones before him.
(The look on Dads face is understandable. The irony of repetitive existence is simple to understand: events have a tendency to come full circle, those that have occurred in the past, will, in the future be played again in some form; moreover, the same souls involved are inevitably drawn to the event as well. Only slight variations mark the difference. Elias and Joachem now understand and muse at the Yogi-ism, "This is deja-vu all over again."
"He turned away, stepped quickly to the brush beside the body to change clothes and then just a quick redressed the dead. It was then I realized, as he pulled another form from behind the brush, that the dinner was not complete, there would be two more served. Er klagte sie zusammen in der Kalte unfaBt an un wahrend er deide sturzte, folgte Arm in Arm, in die Grube Ihre Augen ihrem Fall, da Sie, wenn ein grisly Stolz, ist laut (He arraigned them together in cold embrace and as he toppled both, arm in arm, into the pit your eyes followed their fall, as you, with a grisly pride*** mused aloud, "Gerade...Nachtiisch...das ich wager (Just...dessert...I'd wager)."
Joachem excuses himself, somehow this portion had slipped our minds!
Mother smiles at her voiced thought, "Mich konnte nicht Kalte, so helfen aber haltern fur einen Gedanken fur mein Kind (I could not help but consider so cold a thought for my child)." And concludes with a whisper, "Wie bezaubernd (How charming)."
(The first three words of Joachems recitation have sparked a dry smile from Christine. She understands that my most favorite T-shirt "Steel Your Face," which Dad gave me earlier, is just that; my most favorite Dead Head top. How ironic is it, or, isn't it? Nahhh, not ironic at all. Sometimes, even sissies can be stone cold individuals, who will get you in the end.)
Still smiling Mother moistens her lips and continues. "You said little to me afterwards even as I pressed you for an explanation of your strange statements and of what you had seen. You refused to speak of it. Two weeks later, we prepared to ride the train to Munich and while we waited at the train station, you began idly sketching random forms upon your blank-paper tablet. Abruptly you seemed ill and the pallor surrounding your face frightened me as you set your pencil-work aside and cuddled close to me. A man, who had observed us, also appeared perturbed, approached our bench and inquired first as to your health and then asked if he might look at what you had drawn; while assuring me, that he would return your "Imaginative pieces" after what he termed, "Giving them the scrutiny they deserved." He gently smiled at you and affectionetely continued to speak, "Der Junge ist schon. Wenn das "Wunderkind" benogtigt alles, alles an allen, bitte, bitten Sie den Porter, fur mich zu senden oder schon zu verbessern, lassen ihn beide von Ihnem nehmen Werhner Maximilians' privates' auto (The boy is beautiful. If the "wonderchild" requires anything, anything at all, please ask the porter to send for me or better yet, have him take both of you to Werhner Maximilians' private car)." I thought little of it and pushed the episode aside.
"You remained silent for most of the trip; especially as the rolling of the wheels beneath the floor offered a steady and most comforting rhythm, to which you closed your eyes and slept. I covered you with a blanket provided from the sleeper car and tucked its ends in about you gently; leaving only your face exposed, though, somehow, your thumb had found its normal resting place. Not long afterward, you managed to free your other hand and softly fondled the satin border of the blanket, beneath your chin, as you continued to sleep.
"All was well until...until unforgettably, a most striking oval-faced, broad nosed, cruelly thin-lipped woman with long red hair entered our designated carriage and seated herself, across from us. Our newest and ever present "escort," Hans, had allowed her and her companion entry. The moment she entered, I turned my head away in disgust, as both reeked from the odors they brought with them. Instinctively, I lowered the window beside us and as I turned to face them, Hans looked on in disbelief. Even he was aghast. The look of incredulity on his face offered some measure of consolation as he held his nose with his right hand while shaking his head from side to side. Then quickly waved it in front of his nose; trying to dispel the stench they carried with them away from his post. Through the glass door, I saw his face as he mouthed the words "I'm sorry." He shrugged his shoulders then resumed his position.
"When both were seated, the woman smiled awkwardly while raising her thinly tweezed eyebrows, as it appeared she had a "wandering eye,"*^^* and introduced herself. "Guter natchmittag, Frau Bergoneer, was eine reizende uberrashung, Sie hat ein kleines Madchen auBerdem? Wie eigennartig, ich unter der Annahme war, hatten Sie aber ein Kind, ein Junge. Wo er ist, die Toilette? (Good afternoon Frau Bergoneer, what a lovely suprise, you have a little girl as well? How peculiar, I was under the assumption you had but one child, a boy. Were is he, the lavatory?)" Her companions's unblinking eyes looked only at you as if he were perfunctory
appraising a plate of lamb.
"She continued on, "Ermoglicht mich, mich vorzustellen fort; mein Name ist Ilse...Isle Kohler. (Permit me to introduce myself; my name is Ilse...Ilse Kohler). "Deises," as she gestured towards the dark hared man with a discernable widow's peak, "ist Dr. Waldemar Hoven." Before she could speak another word, the carriage door slid open once more. The man, who had earlier taken your penciled sketches at the train station, entered and with his first step into the coach, was brought up short, as he too was aghast at the odor now permeating the air. His first thought was to look to you as the source for the stench, but quickly realized from where the odor originated. Immediately he turned his attention to Hans and berated him, shouting out, "The two bohemian turds have no business here! Remove them!" Upon his outcry you awoke...
____________________________________________________
*A quote from Yogi Bera.
^Id-a portion (1/3) of our unconsciousness, which is the source for psychic energy and is a consequent derived from our primordial needs, drives and desires and its forms can be monstrous in nature.
**Rendered-of course, there is more than one meaning. To officially deliver a decision or verdict - OR - to put somebody in a particular state - Or - to purify...by melting, slowly...until as much fat has been extracted from it, leaving a small crisp as remains. Naturally, more than one may apply at any time, there are other meanings as well. Take your pick!
***Pride-sometimes it goes before a fall. However it is also up to a dozen female adult lions, their cubs and juveniles and anywhere from one to six adult males.
*^^*Wandering eye - also known as lazy eye or amblyopia.
-
"...and with an anxious first look stared in surprise at the two who sat across from you while immediately grimacing as you tried to somehow withdraw from the two; while Hans vainly tried to explain to Herrn Maximilian that both were NSK.*
"Maximilian would hear none of it and pulled from his vest a communique, which he quickly shoved at Hans' reddening face and then promptly forced it into the sentry's hands, while exclaiming, "Dummy! Lesen Sie dieses laut! (Read this aloud!)
In a quivering voice he read:
Allegemeines Auftrag Nr. 1244/XXL oberes Geheimnis III ein Berlin, 4. Marz 1933 (General Order No. 1244/XXL Top Secret III a Berlin, 4 March, 1933).
: Wehner Maximilian-Ermachtigung, Jungen zu fragen Bewilligen-Fahrt mit extremers Vorsicht fort (To: Werhner Maximilian-Authorization to Question Boy Granted-Proceed with Extreme Caution).
Von: JODL (From: JODL)
Verteilerliste (Distribution list)
Geheimer Kabinettsrat (Members of the Secret Cabinet Council)
Reichsverteidigungstat (Reich Defense Council)
Dreierkollegium-Hochschule von drei Fieldmarshal Keitel (College of Three-Field Marshal Keitel)
Zum Leiter des bewaffnete Kraft-honen Befehls...Keitel, JODL(To Cheif of Armed Forces High Command...Keitel, JODL)
Kommunique von: Obergebietsfuehrer Dr. Hellmuth Stellrecht (Communique From: General Dr. Hellmuth Stellrecht).
Entdeckungen hinsichtlich ist DES "Wunderkind," Joachem: Das Bund Deutscher Technck im Konzert MIT dem Deutscher Aerztebund und dem Deutscher Dozentendund stimmen das zu: (Findings concerning "wonderchild," Joachem: The Bund Deutscher Technik (Bund for German Technology) in concert with the Deutscher Aerztebund (Physicians Bund) and the Deutscher Dozentenbund (University Teachers' Bund agree that:
"It is necessary that we do not allow the life of the boy to pass through all the organizations. On the contrary, it is necessary to give to his life and his development actual stability. We do not only want to train him but want him to lead in an unbroken line of developemnt from boy to man, a development which must be natural, which does not give him cause to investigate why he has been dealt with in this or that manner. The political education of the boy stops when he enters the service of the Armed Forces. The boy should feel that he is part of a natural course of events and react to it by feeling a constant uninhibited enhancement of life. Thus the natural course of events is again completed which has been characteristic of every natural warriordom. Let him practice weapons and only then let him earn the deathly weapon of the man. The boy will learn while he plays, and again acquires the incredible agility of primitve men to find cover and camouflage in the terrain, to use every indentation in the ground, every bit of vegetation to close in, to cover long distances without any noise also at night and, at the same time, to see everything, to hear everything and finally to appear out of nowhere before the baffled enemy; thus growing into the future battle technique through his full life of a boy. Athletics: track comes first, followed by jumping, throwing and pushing. Aber, seine Korperschwimmen zu entwickeln ist notwendig, seinen Korper zu entwickeln und er sollte ihn erarbeiten, lange zuvor er ein Soldat wird. Die er gewohnt zu Auftrage, von aderen zu befolgen erhalten und der Verpflichtung glaben also so stark tun muB, daB sogar am gefahrlichsten Moment sie nicht ausfallt. Es ist viel besser, wenn der Junge beginnt, seine eigenen Wunsche beiseite zu setzen, sum Geben und zum Serve will der Gemeinschaft innen zu verzichten. (But to develope his body swimming is necessary to develop his body and he should master it long before he becomes a soldier. He must get used to obeying the orders of others and to feel the obligation to do so strongly that even at the most dangerous moment he does not fail. It is much better when the boy starts to put his own wishes aside, to renounce, to give in, and to serve the will of the community.**
Heil Hitler
End Kommunique
AUFMERKSAMKEIT: Das Reich-Ministerium DES Innerens stimmt uberein und findet Hohle Jungen, Bergoneer H., Joachem, ein unschaetzbarer Zustandwert. Dedingt annehmbar und zugelassen zum Jungstahlhelm und, innerhalb DES Schutzstaffelor, das Ehren von Untersturmfuher gegeben. Zweiter Leutnat, sofort folgende "anspruchslose Beratung."
ATTENTION: The Reich Ministry of The Interior concurs and finds the boy, Bergoneer H., Joachem, an unusually invaluable State asset. He is found conditionally acceptable, and even at his young age admitted to the Jungstahlhelm, and granted within the Schutzstaffelor, the honorary of Untersturmfuhrer (Second Lieutenant); immediately following "unpretentious consultation)."
WARNEND: Von der Ausdehnung das behauptet: Sozial zugang oder Interaktion wird AUSDRUCKLICH VERBOTEN; Tastkontakt irgendeiner Art AUSDRUCKLICH VERBOTEN, unter Strafe der SOFORTIGEN UND ZUSAMMENFASSENDEN DURCHFUHRUNG. Eintragung zur Hitler Jugen aufgegeben gegrundet nach dem bedeutenden Tribut angeboten.
WARNING: predicated from incidence that: social access or interaction is EXPRESSLY PROHIBITED; tactile contact of any type EXPLICITLY FORBIDDEN, under penalty of IMMEDIATE AND SUMMARY EXECUTION. Entry to Hitler Youth waived based upon significant Tribut offered.
Mein Fuhrer: Der Reich-Armee Minister und das Schutzstaffel teilen die Meinung, die oen dargenstellt wird und der Reich-AuBenminister wollte sie mit Ihnen besprechen, mein Fuhrer. Jedoch glauben wir den kurzsichtigen Entdeckungen EXTREM. Die endlosen Moglichkeiten WAHREND DER Sukunft mit dem Jungen und dem Gott auf unserer Seite jubelin zu. (Mein Fuhrer: The Reich Army Minister and the Schutzstaffel share the opinion presented above and the Reich Foreign Minister wanted to discuss it with you, my Fuhrer. However, we believe the findings EXTREMELY shortsighted. The endless possibilities for the future with the boy and God on our side are cheering.
Heil Hitler.
"While our visibly shaken escort read the communication, Maximilian grew increasingly anxious and looked at the two who sat before you with loathing, In turn, they ignored him and, as if entranced, stared freakishly only at you.
"Throughout Hans' reading, Hoven sat, closed mouth and ramrod straight. My first thought of him was that the features of his face were grotesque. Here was a man whose thinning dark haired and oddly peanut shaped skull with an all to high a forehead, held two hollow brown and deeply seated utilitarian almond shaped eyes. His thin lips did little to assuage his prominent and excessively long ears. The sum total of his appearance presented the countenance of a man who was cold and impassive; seemingly insolated from what surrounded him and inaccessible, except for the thought which apparently only he would countenance.
"She on the other hand was animated. Initially she starred pensively at your face, and then turned her avaricious attention to the thumb of your left hand. However, the sound of her audible exhale sounded, almost sensuously fulfilling, when she looked to your birthmark. My impression of this abomination was that if left to her own device she would have skinned you alive.
"Almost immediately, you turned your face away in disdain and looked only at their reflections in the carriages' window. Her first words to you were, "Ich erwarteten soviel mehr, anstelle von einem stanch der Dornen, die Sie sind eine impfindliche Blume...ein Pansy (I expected so much more, instead of a stanch of thorns you are a delicate flower...a pansy)."
"Then without another word, she slowly leaned forward as in gauging a delightful probability...and reached out as if to grab your arm...impulsively I forcefully slapped it away and immediately rose to stand between you both. Her first reaction was to stand and strike back; but her off balanced ham-fisted blow missed, instead, she stumbled past me, almost falling upon you. Before she could raise herself, Hoven, Hans and Maximilian rushed to assist and pulled her from the carriage's floor. It was obvious to me that each of the three were now aware of at least one of the stipulated conditions: that, except for me, to touch you was forbidden. What was also obvious was that the overpowering stench came from her and not from Hoven. The unknown misfortune was that I had touched you: and in doing so, in that moment, all connected to you. From that moment on, destiny divided us and I thought I had lost you...forever.
"Without prompt, and with a smile, your sweet voice chided Kohler. (We allow Mother to continue uninterrupted) "Frau, unfortunately for you, I know things that you do not. But I will savor the moment and...save...you for last, but I promise...your perfume shall mask what shall consume you, and upon summoned, the hidden scent will blossom and be forever yours for an eternity. Frau Koch, in a garden, both the thorny white rose and pansy require fertilizer. But which is the greater unkown, for a roses thorns are evident while the pansy, though brightly colored, most often contains a dark or black center. If you perceive me as such then that shall be your reality. The loss...
______________________________
*NSK - Nationalistiche Sozialistische Partei=Nationalist Socialist Party...for future reference...Nationalistichesozialistische Deutsche Arbeirerpartir-Nationalist Socialist German Worker's Party = NAZI.
**NOTE...Except for transposition of a name (Joachem) this is almost a verbatum transcript from Stellrecht.
-
"...incurred to all you meet is considerable."
Your brief statement left her with a most...questioning look. For a moment, she shook her head in disbelief as she looked upon your enigmatic smile, while her short invective of, "Wunderkind? Wunderkind?! Sie sind nichts mehr als eine beleidigende Pissameise Laune! Wenn Sie Meins waren, wurde ich...ich wurde...(Wonderchild? Wonderchild?! You are nothing more than an insulting pissant freak! If you were mine I'd...I'd..). The opportunity to complete her thought was interrupted by Hoven, who took hold of her shoulder and immediately sat her vigorously back down on her rump with a firm pull backwards while admonishing, "Ilse,no, control yourself!"
"As Herr Maximilian continued to look at both with contempt, our sentry's left hand had shoved the communique between his body and the left side of his brown shoulder leather strap while at the same moment his right hand had made its way to the holster on his hip. He deftly freed the leather fastener securing his P-08* sidearm. Kohler's drawn lips and hateful eyes had followed his movements: they left little doubt as to their unspoken meaning; each reflected the malice she felt towards you.
"Before Hans had half withdrawn the piece, she fell silent, staring sullen and resentful at him while he stood at the ready, waiting, with palm on grip. There she sat in a huff and began chewing her lower lip in hate. You addressed Hoven while she simmered.
"Doctor, I know why you are here...actually both of you wish to know what waits. Shall I steal a look, for you...at what shall not be, or, of the impending, in time, that upon our inadvertent touch, I glimpse?" Without waiting for a reply you continued. "I see the three faces of you, for time has collapsed upon itself; now all are the same."
(This portion of Joachems participation is painful-for while some things truly are best forgotten and left unspoken...we understand...if not said aloud who would be reminded and left to remember. I feel terrible for him because now we remember...everything!)
Barely above a whisper we speak, "Keine von was Sie wunschen, sind Ihr auBer dem, wer nahe bei Ihnen sitzt. Folglich ist die Antwort su Ihrer ersten Frage Ja. Das, das nebern Ihnen setzt, ist Ihr, aber nur wahrend eines kurzen Momentes in der Zeit, nachher ist dieses ganz sonst fur Sie beide, im Ende, symmetrisch (None of what you desire shall be yours except for the one who sits next to you. Therefore, the answer to your first question is yes. The one seated beside you is yours, but only for a brief moment in time, after that all else for you both, in the end, is symmetrical). Zu Ihrem zweiten Gedanken: nein. Es andert nicht...und wenn es ich gebeten wird, es nicht erlaube. Meine erste Verpflichtung ist zu mainer Mutter, da sie imeer gewesen ist und Wille immer sei es...MEIN...Sustand...ist, der vonder Konsequenz....nicht Ihr...ist und Keine anderer verletzen (To your second thought: no. It will not change...and if asked I will not allow it. My first obligation is to my Mother, as it has always been and will always be; it is...MY...state...that is of consequence...not yours...and none other shall infringe).
"Jedoch, verspreche ich, daB Sie ein Mann der Aufzeichnung sind; und daB die Augen von denen, die unknowingly warten, Sie frequentieren (However, I promise that you shall be a man of record; and that the eyes of those who unknowingly wait, will haunt you).
"Un padrone istruito I ha Saputo una volta era prophetic, le sue parole, "Le mani eseguono, ma il giudice degli occhi," sara il vostro per un eternity contempla.
"Verzeihen Si emir Docktor; Sie verstechen nicht Italiener, den ich fur Sie ubersetze. Ein gelehrter Meister I wuBte einmal war prophetisch, seine Worter, die Hande fuhren durch, aber der Augen Richter, is Ihr wahrend einer Ewigkeit erwaft (Forgive me doctor; you do not understand Italian, I will translate for you. A learned master I once knew was prophetic, his words, "The hands execute, but the eyes judge,"** will be yours for an eternity to contemplete).
"Ihre dritte Frage, "we ich sind," oder sind, wird definiert gut durch die Namen, die Sie vorbei wie in der Vergangenheit bekannt. Das weniger bekannte Ihrer Namen ist Voivode von Wallachia (Your third question, "Who am I," or will be, is best defined by the names you were known by as in the past. The lesser known of your names is Voivode^* of Wallachia). Aners, mehr, aber nur wahrend des Momentes moglicherweise schmeicheln, ist das von, Radu das Stattliche (Another, perhaps more flattering, but only for the moment, is that of "Radu the Handsome.)"
"Aber unabhangig davon den Namen, haben Ihre Nadeln immer vom Blut gerochen, wie Sie; und unglucklich, schreien viele in der Sunkunft und kommen, die sutreffende Natur Ihrer Stichel zu verstehen; fur Ihren Eid zu all ist immer defkt gewesen und Ihr Weg ist immer unvermeidlich und blutig gewesen. Sie sind nichts aber ein "Hackchen" auf der Ruckseite der Zeit. Es is aus diesem Grund, daB Sie hier an diesem Moment in der Zeit sind, Vlad Tepes (But regarless of the name, your needles have always smelled of blood as do you; and unhappily, many in the future will cry and come to understand the true nature of your pricks; for your oath to all has always been broken and your path...has always been inescapable and bloody. You are nothing but a "tick" on the backside of time. It is for that reason that you are here at this moment in time, Vlad Tepes)."
"A look of bewildered understanding crossed the doctors' face as you continued. And so we do, "Ohh, bitte geehrter Herr, geruhen nicht, um zu schauen, also konfus, unbecoming es; Sie haben immer ein gegen andere Locher gebeldet (Ohh, please sir, do not deign to look so confused,it is unbecoming; you have always pitted one against another).
"Gegen, aber, das Leben ist jetzt mehr, als bekannt ein Blucksspiel und wem spielen Sie nicht fur Verlust. Trotz meines Aussehens weiB ich viel mehr Sachen uber Sie, daB Sie, nicht: hinter und Sukunft (But, life is now more than a game of chance and whom you play against is not known for loss. Despite my appearance, I know many more things about you that you, do not; past and future). Schlecht, schlecht, Doktor...Ich verspreche, daB unabhangig davon die Alternativen...Sie werden verurteilt (Poor, poor, doctor...I promise...regardless of the alternatives...you are condemned...,)"
Mother pauses for a moment, and offers a perceptive smile, then continues. "Herr Hoven began to sweat profusely, then grew visibly angry and began to lean ever so slightly forward, but in doing so that now prompted our sentry's immediate action: the barrel end of his sidearm quickly found its way to rest against Hovens' temple. You ended your thoughts to Hoven with a glance towards Frau Kohler with, "..., wie ist sie (as is she)."
"I could not stiffle an approving chuckle as I noted Hovens condition. His trouser legs were wet; you had caused him to soak himself. His companion had observed his situation as well and smirked while sullenly castigating him, "Waldemar, perhaps you should be wearing the diapers instead of the boy! But then again if I had my way, he would wear them until they rotted!"
"With a sneer on her face she lurched towards you and began another sentence with one word, "I," but the clear sound of the P-08 brought a sudden stillness in the compartment. In astonishment, she looked to the misfired sidearm pointed at her head.
"The puzzlement on our young sentry's face was evident while he stood as if frozen in time. But stranger still, except for you, so did we all. Joachem, you began to cry as you cast off the blanket while your engaging voice spoke to him. We repeat the conversation as remembered, "Hans, von allen, denen ich in diser Zeit Sie getroffen habe, sind das vortrefflichste und achtbar, verpreche ich, warden an Sie als solcher erinnert (Hans, of all whom I have met in this time, you are the most noble and honorable, I promise, you shall be remembered as such).
"Jodoch contemptible kann sie sein, ich kann nicht Ihnen erlauben, zu andern, alle was, wenn Sie so tun sollten, wurde sein das schlechtere fur so viel mehr fated ist. In einer anderen Zeit fordern Sie ein MaB Rache, aber bis dann, bin ich traurig fur, was...Sie...mussen gegenuberstellen (However contemptible she may be, I cannot allow you to change what is fated, if you were to do so, all would be the worse for so many more. In another time, you shall exact a measure of revenge but until then, I am sorry for what...you...must face).
"Bitte horen Sie und erinnern Sie sich; wenn ich der Pansy im Garten sein soll dann, sind Sie das alleine...WeiB stiegen (Please listen and remember; if I am to be the pansy in the garden then you are the solitary...white rose)."
"For but a moment, time itself, appeared to sputter until all which appeared normal resumed. Ten years later, I understood the majority of your baffling words.
"Hans was equally puzzled, for after the momentary lapse occurred; his eyes looked to you, for an answer, while he cursed himself for not killing the woman outright. As he holstered his piece, Herr Maximilian moved quickly forward to grab Hoven by the back of his collar and the belt of his pants, and then lifted him with certain ease from his seat and in one motion hurled him towards the carriages open door. There, quite unceremoniously, Hoven landed upon the floor, face first and tail up, at the feet of the porter who had elected to enter and check on our needs. Again, I muffled myself as it was apparent that even the seat of his pants was soaked; my quick look back to where he sat confirmed what was all too obvious; upon the cushioned seat a noticeably imprinted puddle was left behind...by his behind.
""Herr Maximilian instantly addressed the flabbergasted porter with "Den Abfall gerade loswerden! Stellen Entdeckungen dieses Avfalls seine Weise zur Toilette sicher; und vergewissern Sie es bleibt dort; es erhalt weg am folgenden Anschlag! Wenn es Ihnen irgendeine Muhe gibt, haben Sie den Schutz Throw es vom Sug, bevor er stoppt! (Just getting rid of the trash! Make sure this garbage finds its way to the lavatory; and make certain it stays there; it's getting off at the next stop! If it gives you any trouble, have the guards throw it from the train before it stops!)"
"The porters smiling face nodded once to Her Maximilian; then, pointed the way to the lavatory at the end of the corridor while Hoven attempted to stand. In doing so he turned to look at you and stammered while asking a question of you, "Wer, das ist dieses...dies Vlad...Tepes? (Who,who is this... this Vlad ...Tepes?" You shook your head from side to side and...we reply, "Doktor, entschuldige mich ich moglicherweise ist ein anderes Names...berstandlicher und angebracht: das von Vlad das Impaler (Doctor, I apologize, perhaps another name...is more understandable and appropriate: that of Vlad the Impaler) Berbessern Sie bekannt als Dracul...(Better known as...
___________________________
*P-08 - this is the proper nomenclature for the sidearm otherwise known as the Luger
**Quotation from Michaelangelo
^*Voivode = Duke
-
"...Vlad Dracul the II.
"Grudgingly Hoven preceded the porter to the lavatory. We never saw his face again."
(Mother still has not connected the dots, but at this moment, Christine has. Its her unspoken shout, "OMG..OMG..Chris..it's him!,"to the description of the doctor's face, which sounds strikingly similar to the "endochronoanalgists" that mother takes me to see all the time. Strangely, it's not this that I'm getting restless over, somehow I don't feel all that good anymore. I mean...not just sick like...just sorta...sorta...guilty about stuff..or maybe it's her image of Melinda; 'cause she's put the packages on the floor ands just standing there; one arm on her hip and the other sorta rubbing her chin like...looking...nice at me?
(I mean, if Hoven looked at Joachem like he was a lamb chop, the look in her eyes still tells me that, she's still "guest-mating" me for something else. But, somehow, her look doesn't look all that bad anymore. I mean...I know she still looks like she'd want to eat me alive...all kinda slow like...but...just the thought of her doing...well...I think...it could be appealing? Maybe...fun even?...fun? Crap!...it's getting hot in here! I just hope she doesn't...crud!...she's smiling at me? She's noticed! Oh geez...what was it...that...yea...I remember..."When...uhh...rape is...a...uhh inevitable...
enjoy it?*^^" Rape? Rape!? No...its not...rape...not when it's with eyes like hers...those eyes?...ohhh damn it...please...not now! Damn-it Janet! Now even Christine's smiling at me too!
(Her sultry first thought word is just all so sugary and drawn out syrupy like, "Sweeeetie," then when she knows I gotta look at her...kaboomb...she drops the hammer with, "...don't look...but your blush is blushing and you know what else...brother...your personal containment field is being propped up." Then when she knows I gottta take a peek down at it she slams me with the rest, "...ooohh 'scuse me...you noticed! Your probe has switched from manual drive to automatic! SRS to auto-probe! SRS to auto-probe...come in auto-probe...Maybe you just need your fluid changed...you got the hots! Didn't know you had it in ya! Of course..."it" could be...premature...so to speak." All I can do is mouth, "Ohhh please not now, just...shut the..." Its no use, she's got a mind of her own.
(As for Melinda...well Melinda's ...just like her Mo...oh no...wait no...please don't stare at it...you can't possibly begin to understand...it's on standby. All I can mutter to myself is "Ohh no," while the three within giggle, "Ohh boy!" Now even they're joining in and giving me a hard time!
(Thankfully, Dad hasn't noticed and Mother, well...she's elsewhere, lost in thought; unaware of my tight spot and as for Mrs. Agapp, she's in no positon to see it either...damn...I sure wish the A.C. would kick back in.) Just before Mother continues, Melinda's right hand is still kinda stroking her chin...but secretly playing point the finger at it too. It's all Christine's fault! She looked at it first and now they're both...smiling...at each other! All I can do now is keep my mouth shut and stand here. Well, maybe I do get a lot redder in the face and stuff, o.k...so I blush all over my body, it happens! So what if I shrug my shoulders and kinda cross my legs too. I mean it's not like I hafta pee or somethings else that's worse. I guess girls and mom's kinda know when it was your hand that was in the cookie jar, you get caught, 'cause of all the left over crumbs that sorta pop into plain sight.
(I guess I figured out what Christy is up too, about slamming me and stuff. She understands that I don't wanta do this and she's my best bud...that's what buds do...they're supposed to help you along...as for Melinda..o.k....Melina...I guess I kinda like her a little too...wait...I don't even wanta think it...but damn it...she's gonna make it come...)
Mom's voice snaps me out of the couple of second brain fart. Dutifully, she continues. "Herr Maximilian turned to you and said, "Joachem, scheint es, daB Sie feted sind. Leider unter viel mehr als der kleine Kreis des Militars und der Technokraten, die zuerst autorisiert worden sind, Sie zu treffen. Welches mich dirkt zunn Punkt holt, "Wie er menacingly am Frau Kohler glanzte, "Was die Holle sind Sie heir tuend?! (Joachem, it appears you are feted. Unfortunately, among many more than the small circle of military and technocrats who have initially been authorized to meet you. Which brings me directly to the point, as he glared menacingly at Frau Kohler, "What the hell are you doing here?!"
Her sneering reply was forthright, "Ich horte Geruchte gerad, die der Junge, enn das ist, was Sie ihn nennen...aus dem ublichen heraus war. Durch Aussehen und Arroganz wurde sie so scheinen! Ich wunschte...auswerte ihn fur mich; schlieBlich vin ich ein bekanntes Parteimitglied. Ich habe Rechte! Berlin hort von dieses! (I heard rumors that the boy, if that is what you call him, was...out of the ordinary. By appearance and arrogance, it would seem so! I desired to...evaluate him for myself; after all, I am a known party member. I have rights! Berlin shall hear of this!)"
Herr Maximilian nodded once then exploded, "In der Tat sie Wille, den Sie Weibchen Boneheaded! Und ich versichere Ihnen...auf den hochsten Niveaus! Der Junge sollte ernahrt warden, nicht bewertet worden! Haben Sie jede mogliche Idee hinsichtlich, was Sie...offensichtlich nicht getan haben. Das Kind is prescient. Das Fuhrer bevorzugt solche Leute! Krafft un Vogelsand erwarten Sie meinen Report, den sie Fahl sind! (Indeed they will you boneheaded bitch! And I assure you...at the highest levels! The boy was to be nurtured, not appraised! Do you have any idea as to what you have done...obviously not! The child is prescient. The Fuhrer favors such people! Both Krafft(-) and Vogelsang(^-) await my report...they shall be livid!)"
"Sitzen Sie nicht dort und aussehen wie die stumme Kuh, die Sie, alle sind, wird ruiniert! Wenn Berlin von dieses hort, werden Ihre Tage gekennzeichnet! Ja ist das, was ich sagte; Ich vergewissere, daB Sie ausgeweidet werden! (Don't sit there and look like the dumb cow you are, all is ruined! When Berlin hears of this, your days are marked! Yes, that is what I said; I will make certain that you are eviscerated!)"
"Eventually, the momentary cold silence between the two would have melted from another heated exchange, however, it was then you spoke to Herr Maximilian. In an all too calm a voice I especially remember the words you spoke, "Geehrter Herr, ich sprachen, Sie einladen, jedoch zu sitzen," wahrend Sie sum nassen Kissen neben Kohler nickten, "Man wurde annehmen, daB Sie es nicht zu Ihrem Mogen finden wurden. Wenn ich vorschlagen kann, wahrend ich beabsichtigt hatte, mich nach ihrem Letzten zu konzentrieren, moglicherweise kann ein Vertag nach...einer Bereinbartung vereinbart werden...die zu unserem gegenseitigen Nutzen sein wurde. Selbstverstandlich wurde dieses im strengsten des Vertrauens sein undd...Vertrauen mit einbeziecht; sind Sie zu solch einer Anordnung geoffnet? (Sir, I would invite you to sit however," as you nodded to the wet cushion beside Kohler, "one would suppose that you would not find it to your liking. If I may suggest, while I had intended to concentrate upon her last, perhaps a compact can be agreed upon...a covenant...which would be to our mutual benefit. Of course, this would be in the strictest of confidence and involves...trust; are you open to such an arrangement?)"
"The tension in Herr Maximillians's face eased and a brief smile crossed his lips exposing his teeth as he grinned, nodding twice he whispered his clenched jaw reply, "Ja." He then turned to Hans and ordered him to leave the carriage and close the doors behind him and that under no circ-umstance was he to allow anyone else to enter, regardless of the credentials presented. He concluded his order to the sentry with, "Ich nimmt Ihr P-08, das er mindestens 7 Umlaufe enthalt, die, wenn erforderlich, abfeuern konnen stehen wenn notwendig bereit, das M.P zu verwenden.-40 auf dem Weibechen; heht sie auf meinen Auftrag oder sonst (I'll take your P-08 it contains at least 7 rounds which if needed may fire, if necessary, stand ready to use the M.P. 40^ on the bitch; she will leave on my order or else...)" His unfinished sentence, coupled with a nod towards Kohler, left little to my imagination and from the distressed look on her face nor did it on hers.
"With a broad smile, he looked at you and spoke, "Fahren VorlagenJoachem fort. (Proceed Master Joachem)."
"With your doe like eyes, you turned your attention to Kohler and stared steadily into hers. Most suddenly, small beads of perspiration began to form on her face moving to coalesce and then to finally drip from her chin. The white handkerchief she blindly took from her black purse and wiped across her face and brow could do little to stem the increasing flood. As the door closed behind Hans, Herr Maximilian pointed the sidearm at Kohler; then waited. With a gentle voice you began..."
(For the most...we relieve Mother of the obligation to speak for there is no color in what we see: all is black...besides what light remains has dimmed to shades of grey and it is mine to deal with)"Frau Kohler, Herr Maximilian, respectfully, you both "want" but for different reasons. Frau Kohler, your noticeable "wants" are many and you believe that "The state is the march of God through the world."* Herr Maximilian, "I am opposed to...imperial ambitions,"** and will always remain so.
"Yet each of you, personally, are in a quandary as to "who am I" or "what do I want." Frau, I shall address you first, for you, regardless of chance are condemned. You and Herr Hoven share similar destinies. The three faces I glimpsed of him were as certain as those I have seen of you.
"I proceed upon an assumption that you both are learned and familiar with the works of Shakespeare; especially his words, "Tis but thy name which is my enemy...What is in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."^ Of course you do. Over time, each of us have had many names, some significant, others not so. However, before I clarify yours, I shall enlighten you, as to mine. Yet, I must ask you both a rhetorical question, to which a simple nod or shake of the head, is sufficient to reply. The question is simply put; do you believe that there is such a thing as...a...Heaven?"
As we stare past the two, we too consider our wants, as well. After several plodding moments, Mother's soft prodding voice is concise. "Joachem...it has been several minutes, both have nodded...why do you wait? What is wrong? You weep? Why?"
The questions then were ignored and left unanswered. We too wanted much as we waited. Reluctantly, they are now addressed (in both past and present...tensely speaking). We turn our head away, looking at the last of the afternoons sunbeams coming through the window, and remember a portion of what Mother had never heard or seen and of which she knows little to nothing.
Worriedly we begin, " Mother, I admit, as I sit...I thought...that some of the words of Herr Stellrecht were insightful, "and to feel the obligation to do so strongly that even at the most dangerous moment he does not fail. It is much better when the boy starts to put his own wishes aside...to renounce...to give in..." To which my thought was that it was never my nature to...hate...nor so strongly. But I am in the midst of evil, not only measured in minutes but in years to come. Here, "I live in sin, to kill myself I live, no longer my life my own, but sins; my good is given to me by heaven, my evil by myself, by my free will, of which I am deprived"^*
"The unseen angels who have daily visited me have told me everything. Mother, if I fail then all is gone astray for eternities on end. It is not my desire to harm...or...inflict...pain. My only wish is selfish...to be...fearless. Regretfully, now, it has become more so...I am so afraid at what I will lose when I...give in. One day you will understand, but for now, some things are best left unsaid. Reluctantly I must maintain this strange formality forced upon me and speak first to Kohler then to him or this will never end."
Grudgingly, Joachem recites his finale, "Madam, Sir...In Heaven...it is justly considered that, "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts..." But to Heaven, time is not confined; it is endless and spans the entirety of the Creators works. So it is with us...we have played many roles at various times, in lives past and of those to come. There, in Heaven, the various parts we play are viewed from the pinnacle of its seats, where assorted angels sit to review our various roles. In Heaven, united, it is known as The Gallery of the Gods. Knowing this, perhaps to you both, now, all, will not appear so rosy; for the Maker of all does not take sides. Only we.
"Frau Kohler, you would dare...
"
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"...to call me a name other than my own? That is all well and good...for the moment, to you, I am a pansy...a girlish boy...a childish...puissant freak. Your evaluation of me, to that effect, will shortly change for you are terribly unaware of many things, especially, of my names significance. Respectfully, for this moment in time, it means the one that "Gott Herstellt (God will Establish)."
"Frau Kohler, "If we have been pleased with life, we should not be displeased with death, since it comes from the hand of the same Master."^* I promise you shall be neither pleased with life nor solaced in death. But I stray from what must be said. Of the many names, you have owned in the past, and the role to be, revealed upon our inadvertent touch, it was too many, until, this moment, visited upon the most terrible face seen. Concealed until, this moment, it is yours as well as your coming wants to carry: for the name Margathae, is forever branded upon your soul; as you were otherwise known as "Das Carthaginian Tier (The Carthaginian Beast.)
"Frau, under other circ-umstances I would not be so...forthright...but time is short...for us all. Therfore, I will not speak in riddles to you, and, if you disapprove of...my...evaluation of you, then you may tell me to go to hell, but it is not within my authority to travel that road, but it is within mine to offer a glimpse of but a small portion of that tolled path to you...for it is yours.
"Frau, to a certain few the eyes are the gateway to the soul from which they may judge; to others they are the road to moderate the possibilities of what may occur; for others they may offer the certainty of either despair or the joy of accomplishment; but for others, but a handful, they are the sum of each. It is now, as you look into my eyes that for the moment, I am the latter and that what you observe, in your minds eye, is on the eastern side of a small lake. Over 2700 years ago, you once lived in the ancient city culture of once known Carthage, *^^* which is but several miles from what is now the city of Tunis; nearby, is a place, known to many by one word, "Tophet." There, you were the high priestess to the god Moloch, Frau, the word "taph" means drums or "troph" to burn.
"Look and listen to it all Margathae. Listen first to the drums...so many drums. Which in your name, as priestess, you ordered to be played loudly. They are loud and the driving beat is ordered to become...even louder...all booming in order to drown out the screams and cries of the mothers, and those of the victims, which you willingly sacrificed. Margathae, to you age was of no consequence; for infants to children, even those over my age were...annually sacrificed...by the thousands...under your vigilant supervision. Margathae, whether a mother was willing or not; smiling, you forced her to place her baby or child upon the down-stretched arms of the bronzed statue of your god: Moloch. Look, at the excitment, on your face. Margathae, behold the delight, as you then allowed it to roll off, falling headlong crying and wailing, into the brazier pit below. Margathae, trotz der Trommeln, im Himmel, ihre Screams werden noch.gehort (Margathae, despite the drums, in Heaven, their screams are still heard).
"Margathe, that is why you are here. As Hoven, you are consumed and attracted to the blood, which will flow. In this incarnation, you shall own another name though I have already properly named you. Your hands will never wash clean. Save a raised eyebrow; you did not even notice, my apparent misnomer, Ilse...Ilse Koch.*** Do you wish to remain and hear more or shall you leave...either choice will lead you to the same end."
Mother's observation is, "At that moment, both Herr Maximilian and I turned our rapt attention to Frau Kohler, our reaction to her appearance was similar; she trembled where she sat and her clothes were completely drenched. When I looked upon her I understood sitting before you was an evil that walked among us. It was at that point which she murmured, "Ich gehe (I will leave)."
"Maximilian acknowledged her pleading look and in concert with a single nod, he wagged the P-08 in the direction of the door. Herr Maximilian rapped the glass to attract Hans' attention. As the doors slid open, and in her haste to exit, she tripped and fell face forward, but before her face had struck the floor, in mid fall, she broke wind, and then landed at the jack-booted feet of our senty. Both Hans and Maximilian threw up their hands in disgust, as the odor was most overpowering. We did not fare much better, though we laughed at Hans' observation, "Die meiste creative Frau, Sie und der Minister von Luftfahrt haven viel im Commom Sie beide: sind Fliegen farts (Most creative madam, you and the Minister of Aviation have much in common, you both: are flying farts.)" Herr Maximilian looked at Hans, who immediately realized he had spoken disrespectfully of Herr Goering. Wide eyed, he held his breath and awaited Maximilian's wrath. Instead, Maximilian nodded his head several times and mused softly, "Also wurde er erscheinen (So it would appear.)" It fell to poor Hans to see her to the lavatory, where she remained until both she and Hoven***were "escorted" from the train at the next stop: a charming little city by the name of Weimar. ^*^
"While Hans escorted this woman down the corridor, Herr Maximilian's aide appeared bearing the sketches, which you had earlier drawn. Herr Maximilians demeanor changed almost immediately as he took the seat where Kohler or Koch or whoever she was had sat. He frowned as he sat. No small wonder, for the stench still lingered and he appeared aghast that he would even have to touch where she had been. Before he could speak, you took charge and spoke first."
Quietly we began with, "Herr Maximilian, permit me, "The greater danger for most of us lies in not setting our aim to high and falling short; but in setting our aim to low, and achieving our mark"^* Your "wants" are evident. You desire to know more, much more. That is a matter of choice, not necessarily mine, but yours. But first, I must ask my Mother to leave us for but a few moments."
Mother interjects, "The puzzlement on Maximilians face mirrored what must have been on my own as well. He nodded to me...hesitant and nervous I rose to leave as requested. Yet before I could stand, you asked a promise of me, that upon my return, that I would agree with Herr Maximilians desires.
"In doubt, I left as requested, and while I had excused myself to the diner, I could not entertain the thought of food; I left my purse behind and asked you to look after it. When I returned, some forty-five minutes later, I found the doors curtains had been pulled closed, and when opened, at first sight, Herr Maximilian appeared quite shaken...and you my child... were slumped, pallid and unblinking...you were never the same. I looked to Maximilian for an answer; he merely shook his head and said, "I am so sorry, read this, forgive me." He took your pencil works and pressed a written message into my hands and left.
"Somehow, in that time, I had lost my dearest...you were my light...from then on you refused to speak...never a word...to anyone...for as long as you lived. The guilt was mine, I left you alone...with him. I had failed you.
"Years later, that night in the aviary, at the end...you left me...and as I touched your drying tears...it was your eagle...Thor...that had taken what was left alive and left me...left me...alone...again. Alone again. Alone. Except for you...I was always...alone. Aside from the mild rush of air...past, the keeper...all else was still. He swears he heard a door open and close beside him. Stranger still we both sensed the sweet aroma of some type of a blossom."
Lost in the memory, Mother is at a loss to understand that it is Joachem nodding to his older sister: who, as if on cue, takes her hand and soothingly squeezes it. Nor is she aware that at this moment, that it is now the littlest of her three angels, which sits beside her, while the third stands smiling and silently wipes a tear from Mother's eyes; and returns with another small portion of the unmentioned, timely price paid.
For the moment, while others do not...I understand...the depth of Elias's promise and of the consequences; and now silently stand and wait, in growing guilt, for the letter which will explain the salient contents of our private discussion and mutual compact. At first, just moments ago, I relished the thought, of revenge, but now, begin to cry, understanding the loss and misunderstood cost; perhaps, on one other item Herr Stellrecht was correct, that the deathly weapons of a man should never be entrusted to a boy.
In temporary silence, I consider the rush of information we have noted as being simply more than "coincidences," such as:
^*^,,,the next stop...at the charming little city of Weimer...next to which a special camp was constructed...known as...Buchenwald.
***Ilse Kohler, who was born in Dresden, September, 1906. Who became member of Nazi party in 1932. Who through friends in both the SA and SS met Karl Otto Koch in 1934 and married the same Karl Koch, 1936. Who became the commandant of the concentration camps at Buchenwald...and Majdanek. He was "unaware" of his wife's illicit love affair(s). He was arrested in 1943 by the Gestapo for embezzlement and "unauthorized" murder of inmates. Who was condemned to death and executed by firing squad just one week prior to the Americans arrival at Majdanek. Who's future to current wereabouts are: unknown...due to insufficient insight...lack of informaton. But upon extrapolation: likelihood of some probable future "family-camp(ing)" relationship with ex-wife.
(***)Waldemar Hoven, Doctor, Waffen SS Captain. Who had a brief and illicit love affair with...Ilse Koch. Who was tried by the Nazi court as a traitor and communist sympathizer, but who was also tried for killing prisoners by...injecting...them in the heart. Who was then forced to serve in...Buchenwald...camp for one and one half years. Who was then rearrested after the war, tried and convicted of lethal injections to inmates. Who was executed by...HANGING. Whose future to current whereabouts: predicated upon facial match and anecdotal evidence: is currently living in the USA, "working" in the field of gene therapy. Whose favorite newspaper article is hanging on his office waiting room wall, with a partially yellow highlighted sentence which reads,"Yes, in answer to your question, certainly...after years of research, I definitely am happy doing what I want, after all, this has long been my ambition, for some reason I have always been drawn to blood work; it..."
***Ilse Koch, who began working as a guard and then as Secretary at Sachsenhausen concentration camp for political prisoners. Who dutifully tallied the executions conducted daily by either in trench firing squad or hanging. Who was appointed Oberaufseherin (Overseer) by the SS at...Buchenwald...and there built a reputation for herself as: "The Bitch of Buchenwald or incongruously as, "The Beast of Buchenwald." Who was an especially cruel woman who would daily ride her horse, to survey the inmates, and then with...the touch...of her crop, select an individual whose misfortune it was to have an especially...distinctive tattoo. Who, when thus touched, upon his execution, had his tattooed skin crafted and made into lampshades for her home. Who, if the inmate particulary suited her, his...thumb...would become a functional light switch for a room in her house. Who used a shrunken head as a paperweight. Who forced open inmate male upon male rape as one of her widely known erotic...sidelights. Who was responsible for selective mass executions by assigned stacked bunks of sixteen in the dormitories, which was a daily occurrence and solely at her discretion...through the luck...of the draw. Who was arrested and imprisoned by the SS for embezzlement and "murder:" but acquitted upon trial. Who was re-arrested by the Allies, 1945 and sentenced to a life term in 1947. But, who was re-tried by German court in 1951. And who, at Aichack women's prison, 1976, at the age of sixty, found the symmetry promised...committing suicide by...HANGING. Future to current whereabouts: based upon available indirect data gathered suggests she is alive-living in USA. A self-appointed Oberaufseherin of a "small camp" for specially selected young boys..."volunteers" who are also under stringent female control (additional mental note-first letters signify covert implications) Additional Insight-emotional note: Delights in her work. Remainder of file...STOP: Classified.
^^Hans Scholl - Der WeiBe Rose - The White Rose. Who led the active non-violent resistance against the Nazi's. Who while he and his sister were students at the University in Munich, were arrested by the Gestapo and executed by beheading in 1943. Whose members of the White Rose are still honored in Germany today, where a momument in front of the...Ludwig Maximilian University...stands as testament to their honor and resolve in the face of certain death. Additional Insight-gathereed information: STOP. Remainder of file: To be declassified.
...Joachem H. Bergoneer...who maintained a promise of silence until his death, in 1943. Who under written orders, left provided hardened shelter to deny...STOP. Remainder of file: To be declassified.
(-)Karl Ernst Kraft-who was the "failed" astrologer to the Fuhrer...who provided "erroneous" information to same...Who dies in...Buchenwald...of typhus.
(:)Reinhard Vogelsang-who became Hitler's personal astrologer until the end of the war. Who oddly, told Hitler that he was, "In for a competition win or a big betting success on the horses," on the eve of his invading Russia. But who stranger still, following Stalingrad told him that, "There's potentially a real boost to your social life today, connected to a favourite hobby or interest. Either way you'll meet people who are really on your wavelength who could become firm friends!" Who mysteriously, upon the allies landing on the beaches of Normandy, advised him that, "Even if you've nothing special planned today, take time to apprecieate those who appreciate you." Finally, who as the Russian Army was taking the heart of Berlin gave his last prediction in a note to the Fuhrer saying, "A more upbeat phase begins for Germany this week. Why not blow your fuc-king head off you crazy bastard?"
We smile apprecitively at the irony...that first looks at the truth can be quit deceiving. He finally broke the enigmas cipher...an accomplishment...especially, if one is expecting a simple Caesar shift or substitution cipher. And he did it without...using my little flickering black box...which has just been activated by the sly touch of one finger to its keyboard by the intuitive Melina...and whose screen now comes...on; first blinks then flashes, with white lettering upon a coal black screen: "Auto detect: (Analog input) Welcome...________
(<->)aka-Vlad the Dragon, in modern times as the vampire-Dracula.
*^^supposedly attributed to Confucius...but there is confusion in the interpretation.
*The state is the march of God through the world-Hegel
***I am opposed to...imperial ambitions-J. Gresham Machen
*^^*Carthage-Famous for trade and commerce-reviled for its blood excesses...especially...child sacrifice. Conquered by Rome...149 B.C.
^Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet...1594
^M.P. - 40 = Machinenpistole...AKA...Schmeiser-shoulder harnessed sub-machine gun=to The Sten
^*Quotation from Michealangel Buonarroti
Authors note: curtesy acknowledgement to S.C.
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(No...not really...from black to this...and this is definitely not "welcome" at all. Just the opposite. I know Mother is...trying...o.k...always has been...I mean most of 'em, mothers I mean, are. But her closing old wounds is harder than keeping a vampires crypt closed at night. I mean...its been all those years and she's blamed herself for it...worse...she never said a word about it until just now. But it wasn't her...it was Joachem...no...truthfully...mostly...it was...me...well...Elias had...a...part in it too...but mostly...me...so I guess...it was sorta kinda...all of us? But I never stopped to think about the saying "That the truth shall set you free." How strange that I'm finding out now that it's really a double edged sword and it cuts both ways.
(I just don't feel all that good. And mostly it's 'cause of the growing pit in my stomach...I'd guess you'd call it "guilt." It's telling me that Joachem knew a lot more about what he was gonna do or had to do and why he had to do it 'cause of what I did when I did it. Besides, at the most dangerous moment he didn't hesitate, he walked, no damn it, he ran, eyes wide open and straight into what he knew was gonna happen. Damn it! And...screw Stellrecht...he even fell twice but he didn't fail. I mean how are you supposed to take a last look into someone else's eyes and know that what they're doing to help you with...with their touch...is just really all a set-up. And as for his wishes, crap, and double crap! He wanted...just like me...no...he wanted less and only got grief...so make that a double crap with loads of cherries on top! Hell...being dead and not understanding or ignoring it is one thing; but living knowing that you're dead inside is another...but misunderstanding why...that's something else. I...I mean... we...knew this was gonna be distastesful...but just how much...well...no Elias, honestly, I dont blame you...but I do understand...so does Joachem, he understands why and I understand him...especially him.
(But it seems odd like...Mom would only mention some pages that she'd...I mean Freida'd written...and nadda about...anything else. Which means...she still doesn't know about...damn it...no...not now...I don't wanta hear it...the snarky...blame me, "That the game is still afoot, for thou still let'st slip" crap. So it's paraphrased. I know. Ohh joy...there it is...the full screen in all of its bold print and inglorious color. Just great...my desert moon desktop background and...heerre they are...a backdrop littered with most of my short cuts. Well...at least the sound is muted. And that's alot more than I can say about the screaming looks between Christine and Melina. Their faces are like watching a tennis match...'cause the volleys between the two tightly strung rackets are anything but subdued. Like it's just as one looks to the screen...boink...it's returned...then just as quick the return shot is blasted back...and all the while this catgut rally is going on the exchanged rapid-fire winks and smiles between the two are obvious, at least to me it is...that each knows exactly what the other one does. I mean I would too...if I was a...and I'm not...a girl...no...not...not really...but...uh...well...somehow I do...know that is...maybe its from...memory? Or maybe it's just that the other one is now staring backhanded at me through the mirror...who am I kidding...they were both right...Kohler and Joachem...he almost hasta be one...a pansy with a dark center that is. Is that like being...sugar and spikes...or am I an all in one bar?
(Is that why "she's" looking at me? Not me at me. I mean Aeron D. She knows something...no...it's not that...it more like she's...puzzled? Ohh well...no...nuhh uh...looks more like she's about to go...proverbially apes hit! I can 'xplain to her about her grandmother...that was Elias' set up...not me...o.k....us...its guilt by association...I guess. After all, we figured who better to trust than to start with someone you'd trust with your most best secret. But I guess if I'da found out that my grandmother took an unexpected crossing on over to the dark side...I sure as hell wouldn't draw my blackberry like she is...unless it was like...I knew I was waiting for someone else to...all antsy like...call and start to answer it before it even rings...with sort of a frosty...and put out look...like she does with, "Mothherr? Hello? Yes..."what a surprise." Yes...yes I "was" just "thinking" about you...yes...just "now" as a matter of fact. Of "course" I...and you were "thinking about"...you were?...about yes, "me?" Just, yes "just now"...oh my what...yes..."a coincidence." No Mother I'm...no...I'm not "being sarcastic"...but...yes "of course"...just "as always"...I should have...yes, "expected"...yes I know...as I always do "expe.."yes, your "calls," but...yes, "I love you" too...you know how much I..."Then why don't" I say it? Please Mother, no not...no...there are other...no not ...no please don't...you don't know...you "do" and that's why you are "asking"...do I have a ..."none whatsoever"...yes...fine you win...I...yes "give." What's that Mother, "If I mean it..." Yes, o.k. I'll, "say it." Oh dear god in...yes I know "He listens"...yes, "all the time."...here goes and I hope your...you are?...your "satisfied?" What was that? "If it's now and out loud" you are...yes Mother, as long as I can...of course Mother...yes...if I can ...what do you mean "no"...say it out loud and not"...yes, "whisper." Fine, have it your...yes Mother you always do..."your way." O.K. O.K. Yes, I will now, "how much do I," yes Mother as always, "yes....oodles and oodles of noodles"...and you me...yes I know..."bunny bunches back." But why are you...oh..."that"...yes of course...the parcel...its...no he hasn't...yes its...yes here...yes it's "unopened"...yes, "still." Of course I'm ...yes, "certain"...Mother please...yes..."on"...yes, "the floor"...yes it is...yes "in plain sight"...yes...I'm ...yes Mother I am "looking"...yes..."at it right now." No...no, not yet, Mother...he hasn't even touched or ..."come close?" No not even "close" he just...Mother...yes but...of course he's...yes "really"...yes here..."the same"...he is...yes..."just as"...yes...'described"...yes down to the...yes, "the birthmark" and I...well no...no...not yet...I "haven't offered it"...yes we were "busy and didn't"...no not a "chance to" because...What? "That's good?" Why is that "good?" What? You want me to...yes I understand you want me to, "wait." But...why should I... "don't ask now." What? Say that again, you had a "serious second thought on the matter?' Do you know what your...you do. Do you have any idea of what...you want to "close the circle?" So I... "just wait." Mother wait...no...before I do...not me? You don't want me to. You want "her" to...you know about...yes "her?" Her? How the hell did..."you just knew it. So I..."Now ask nicely? Mother, please...I did ask...yes just now...and now you want me to...ask again." Why? Just because you "asked." Yes...yes...I have some questions to ask you about...yes "her too." You know full well "about what"...yes...it's about...of course "grandmother"....Mother was she ever...she was what? She was? You can't be...so I've just found out...and it was what? A "secret?" It...it was what? You can't be...you are...seriously? You kept a...and you "didn't tell"...yes me, "because it was hush-hush"...yes I know...but Mother...but...from me? Yes...I know what a secret is...but I'm your...yes your daughter...don't be "hurt?" Why wouldn't I be hur...Mother...of course I'm "hurt." Why would I be?" Because...because I'm your only...yes but your my...yes, "Mother" ...and your...yes, "aware of some things." Yes, "that I'm not"...but I'm your, yes, "daughter and I should know better that's why." Yes Mother that's why I'm asking...but...but...Mother you should have told me...what do you mean by "no." Just no? It was what? Wait. It was "more than a se..." Obviously it was...yes, that's what I was going to, yes "say"...that it was obviously a matter of..."yes, "trust"...yes I...do I "understand"...no I don't...what do you mean by that? Yes I heard you...yes clearly. But...yes...yes but...I know what the word...yes it means...it was a matter of trust in the...yes..."the strictest of confidence." Yes...and by that you mean I was...what do you mean "lacking in experience?"
"No...I won't let it drop...Mother your changing the subject...you always do...I said he was..."is he"...yes, here and..."fully dressed?" Well ahh...no..."not entirely"...honestly Mother...Mother, lets say he's "well guised and somewhat flushed at the moment and...yes..."in-disposed" so to speak...no...I'm not trying to be funny...yes of course I know what's in the box...you told me so...but...that's right...yes...you told me "not to..."no I...no...I did not...look...Mother why should I've..."looked out of"...what? Yes I know it "killled the cat," but...wait...but you asked me not too. Mother you know me better. You do? Thanks...yes...bunny bunches...I'm glad you do...so I'll ask again...yes I am and...yes I'll "be certain to do it"...yes, "properly"...yes Mother, I know I have a "one track mind just..."yes, "just like her Mother." So why...wait...why didn't you tell me...no...nothing...Mother, except for that...and what? What else would there be in...will you let me spea...are you finished not letting me finish? Why do you always do...yes, you do do this to me" and yes, Mother you've often told me that...yes, "when your gone I'll miss.."no Mother I'm not raising my voice to y..yes Mother...you "always know what I'm going to..."yes Mother...yes there is...on his...yes bed...Mother I truly wish you would let me...yes..."complete a..." yes, "sentence."
"Yes Mother...yes Mother...there are "other people at hand...yes, "so that's why I didn't want to"...well yes...and please don't make me laugh...ahhh...yes...yes...all considered you might call them "close friends" perhaps even "family." Who? Yes of course she is...yes...no she...no Mother...she didn't...not a word of...no "how did it get there?" I...no idea...I...no not a clue...only that... Mother...only that it was...yes..."on the table." Mother...I can't believe...what are you saying..."believe it." You can't be serious...you can't be...seriously? You Mother are sooo...oohh Mother some...yes, "sometimes" you are so...so...so...so...is "that" how you describe yourself?..."enigmatic?" So I see. No Mother. I'm not trying to be...yes...I mean no...not humorous...yes...I understand..."seeing" is what you do...yes..."of course"...and you're...yes "the best."
"Mother no...yes...not even close..."right now" that is not how I would describe y...no. "Right now" you don't want to...oh...you do...I'm sure you do...what else is new? Yes...it's ...yes, "a safe bet that its a lot lower than your neck...as end..."...please don't laugh...do you have any idea of how long I...you do and I...I was not!...no I was not..."obsessed?" So you say...yes Mother but...yes...just because you "say so"...so I was? Is that all or is there...there is? But of course...oh I..."was amusing"...how wonderful. So I provided you with some...yes "humor"...no...no Mother I'm not...do I sound like it? I am not! Yes...perhaps...o.k but...yes, "only mildly amused" but...no...I'm not...no I'm not "laughing"...fine...have it your way...o.k? Yes I'm "snickering"...but...you could have trusted me to...yes Mother...yes Mother...yes...of course its what "you have always told" me...yes...I know that..."I'm headstrong just like.."...yes, "you" and...Mother...I know...I, yes, "had to find out for"...yes "myself"...yes...I will...yes...along with your love...yes I'll personally pass it along...no? but I still don't underst..why her? Will you please...yes of course I do..."folklore"...it was one of my majors..."remember"...what...why don't I think about it?
"A boater? "But a boater"...where?" Mother...yes, you're "fading out." Oh...you want me to "Put a boater where it will do ..." What's that? "The...the most...good?" Mother your losing cont...what's that? Repeat after me, "Now its not the time for me to do..." Not me but if its her? "A well placed boater? Well...yes...if its going...yes...to...you can't be serious...no...because...wait...no...Mother...Mother...that is...no...to the contrary...for the mome...yes...we are...yes, "in agreement"...that will..."will it make him"...yes I believe so...such...yes a "wonderful idea." "Happy?" Perhaps...yes that will make him a ...just call you..."an incurable romantic?" Yes Mother...I am..."smiling?" Now I am. "Laughing?"...almost..."when will" I? I'll let you know. What's that? You do? Mother...tout a l'heure.* What? Was I "making a joke?" No Mother...of course I remember your preci...yes Mother you'll "always see" me before "I see you"...bery funny! Bye Mother...
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*tout a l'heure...French...Pronounced...tootle-loo=see you presently
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"...What's that Mother..."Not so fast and why did I forget to tell you something on purpose?" You want me to "tell you now or explain it all later." No, no Mother neither...no I don't think I...no...not this time...yes, yes I know I'm "trying your patience," and as always your not trying mine? No Mother...right now, yes, personally I don't yes..."see it that way." No Mother I'm not being "cheeky." You know Mother...one day it'd be really nice if just once you'd let me finish...say that again, "Don't worry because I "already will have?" Wait...you mean that? Yes I know you know what I know and yes that you'll "know everything you'd ever want to know..."yes..."and more." Ohhh...so you...ah..know about...yes "that little thing." But well...yes I did but...yes, "just before arriving"...well nooo you never mentioned anything about doing "that" to me... but I just thought that it was...yes it was "a completely compulsive act." So why did I do it? Why did I? Well just...just...just because...that's why. Yes Mother, yes I understand that you "don't find that answer amusing" and that "that's not the answer you wanted to hear." But...but Mother...isn't that what YOU'VE always told me...look Mother why SHOULD I be? No, Mother, I'm NOT sorry if...yes, "I did it without being asked" and I DID it...because I didn't FEEL I...that's right, "needed to." So, yes, yes, yes...I "just leaped right out there and took the initiative." OHH YES I did...yes that's right...I did it on my own. Why? BECAUSE...well I thought...yes "I could see how it"...yes, I had too...Mother please listen to me...I know you know "it's important"...NO MOTHER not to me...wait you've done it to me again...yes it was important to me but...it was something that I felt I had to do...yes, "I just had to do it." No Mother...again, no one asked me to...Will I "apologize" for it? No Mother I can't see me apologizing...not on this...no not even a glimmer of a second thought...not this time...honestly it wouldn't be right. That's right, I "mean it," and if I had to do it all over again I would and..."that's good...don't bother to explain because you already know why and you wouldn't either." Mother of course you wouldn't...then why argue? Your not arguing...your "proving a point." And...I'm, yes, just like you and ..."basically sensitive and impossible to deal with." You mean it? You really mean it? Your yes, "serious." Am I "glad?" No Mother...much better than that. Yes, now I am...but are you...you wouldn't use that word, no...of couse not...Yes Mother, "I can, yes..."see you now." And no you're not smiling. Don't tell me that I know better...yes you are..."ear to ear..." So...yes, "that makes two of us." Mother? You know how much I love...yes, "You too"...thanks ever so...no...no problem...not now. Should I call you back after? What's that, "You'd rather sit back and close your eyes to watch and listen carefully"...of course Mother...and Mother...when I get home...I'll tell you a story that you'll want to hear of long long ago long long ago...and Mother...before he does...I'll be sure to tell it to him too. Ttfn."
(The quick coincidental glances by both Melina and Christine towards Aeron during her ramblings are making me feel edgy. Heck, in the course of her almost one-sided exchange, even I could pick up on most of what she and I guess my newest grandmother were talking about...and just like them I did it without looking at her for most of it. But somehow...I'm getting a queasy uneasy feeling about some of it...especially like the parts where'd they both just look straight at her together and then just turn to me and deliberately smile. I mean I already know that I'm the one that they're talking about but I just can't get it all put together and then they hafta turn their heads and purposely stare at me jeez almighty damn it it makes me feel like a stump sticking out in the middle of nowhere 'cause I just can't say "well excuuusse me" and run and hide seeing as that I'm the one here...now...with no place left to go unless of couse it's the one alternative that I can do even if it's like the only thing that I can do naturally but for some reason I'm beginning to think that girl code talk is really kinda freaky strange all weird and wonderful at the same time so that maybe someday I can figure it out but for right now why bother after all I'm figuring that from the look on Dads face he already knows the score and he's had a lot more experience with girls or women or whatever than I've had so's he's gotta know more about some of the stuff they go on and on about from first hand experience especially since Mom's always unloaded piles of crap on him for stuff she thought he did or didn't do but why do I think that they always talk fast enough and never stop so's you can't get a word in edge wise because it all seems so normal for them and all and all they do is ramble on so that they never seem to take a breath in between words 'cause damn it it makes me think of what Dad once jokingly said to me might be half true after Mom finished tearing him a new one 'cause Dad claimed that Mom must have started it all by being born with an undetected extra set of lungs for just that very reason and since that in the time from the time whenver he met or married her that most girls now come equipped with "a set of expanded air bags to increase verbal capacity and endurance." Damn I'm so glad I'm not like that. Of course he said that there was more to it than that because girls usually use eight or nine thousand words a day when they talk during their normal day and night but that boys only use two to four thousand a day which he explained is why that by the time he gets home that he's really used up all of his words but that Mom still has another five thousand or more left to go so she tries to fit 'em all in. Then he looked at me sorta weird like and said that's a normal day, sometimes they talk more. When he told me that the first time I looked at him all bewildered like are you shitserious and then he went on to tell me that even one time before I was born he never spoke to Mom for over five months. I didn't know what to say and I looked at him all-serious and was about to cry until he laughed and said, "I didn't want to interrupt." After that, it was like our little private inside joke. He said I might "experience it one day." But each time he told me that...it was always when I was really really lonely and wondered...would I ever really ever...experience it...and if so...how? so now here I am and now there are two girls looking at me with their eyes gleaming all bright and sparkly like they've got a little secret or two that only they know about me or maybe it's just because for some reason it seems like Dad is now about to bust a gut laughing or maybe they figure that he's just gotta find a handy place to hock a big loogie and is trying to choke it back down or whatever but maybe maybe it's that even they've noticed that there's a different look to his face expecially the changed look in his eyes but I don't know if it's his eyes that don't hurt him to look at me or is it mine that don't hurt his when I look at him 'cept all I know is that mine don't hurt me anymore to look at him...maybe its sorta both.
(But me...I'm now just really looking at Melina...how was I supposed to know she'd be so...so sensitive...'cause it seems like she's gonna lucky guess what I'd want to do if I could do it...Ohh man...she must come equipped with some really rad A-1 moves of her own 'cause now she's giving me her bashful smile look and without even looking at the keyboard she's just clearing the screen for me with just the touch of two fingers. It's just like what Christine is thinking at the same time that she's silently yakking away at me, "Chris...we've misunderestimated her...well...especially me." Whenever I get the chance I gotta ask Christy if she means her me or me me. If its me me would that mean that she really understands...me? Anyhow...she seems like she's way too smart somehow in a cool sorta way. Wait a sec...if she understands me...how do I know what her bashful smile looks like anyhow? But good god she's simply...no I better not go there...she's not simple at all...in fact it seems the longer I'm around her I'm...feeling. I guess that's what Mrs. Stenstrum, my really old six grade teacher, would have made a joke about and labeled as "Our first indicator of "glandular induced osmosis.""
As for Mrs. Agapp...her eyes are...looking...and they're telling me that from head to toes she's measuring me up for some kinda major party 'cause it kinda goes with the beginning of the grin on her face which is sort-of a creepy nice. Or maybe it's just because Aeron is smiling at 'em both and they're being polite back at her. But if that's the case...why's she smiling and giving a nod at Melina and then a nod right to the big box on the floor? Its as if she's eye talking a line of sight and trying to hook her with a "Please, you know it's there...come along and nibble at this...take it...just one little bite...come on and that's it...slowly...easy and..."
(Right now...that this is all so obvious I know that she should know better that to fall for this...sooo...it means that there's something else that she knows about that maybe I don't because someone is..."stinkin thinkin"...mentally stirring up some crap...it doesn't really add up...or does it? "Cause Melina is taking her lead and ...and now's giving her that look back...unless...unless...no...without a doubt there's more...'cause if she'da left when asked...things would've been different...so if its not her doing the stirring...it...it's gotta be; Aeron.
(No...I take that back...its both because now Melina's giving her "THE" look. You know the one...its the patented bogus surprised return look. Its the one where the first part of it goes, "What, you mean little ol me?" and lookit...here it comes...along with the rest...the almost mandatory couple of shrugs of the shoulders back and forth look which sorta slowly shimmies their wriggles right down to the hips so they can slowly wiggle and sway ever so softly while she slightly tilts her head looking to all meet up with the biggest grin on a face look that I've ever seen on a girl that I don't even know that much about who then looks back at me with the look in her eyes which...shitserously means...that ohh crapola...she alreay knows I kinda like her but ther's no way that she can play that kind of hunch so damn good without some help, which means that Aeron is the one who might've somehow stoked the ...no...no surprise there and not here neither because here it comes the smile and the nod at the brown paper package and with an all to soothingly pleasant voice she starts with, "Sweetheart...I have a...gift...for you." Of course Melina is all thrills and giggles and is just about to reply when she's cut off with "Nooo Melina, I'm speaking to...
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"...my little brother...who must now choose the trail he will journey. Only with his consent, may you offer him what was to be my...gift...with the knowledge that you accept willingly...what is tendered in return: and for pities sake, please don't pout; it is so unbecoming of you.
"That you value my guidance is encouraging yet despite your desires, be advised that from this moment on my darling, what follows is most uncertain; and remember, regardless of his choice you are incalculably enriched. However, your obvious and growing impatience is quite understandable; perhaps it has in part fueled your own personal...visions? Forgive my musing aloud, but your undue haste...to return...apparently was the cause of your unceremonious reentry and...it was spurred by...yes...of course...Mother is correct...I too see...your unbridled anticipation. Excuse my amusement. It is not my desire to appear rude or offend and for that lapse, I offer my profound apology, though I would again counsel you: serenity. So for now, please, simply pick up the package you so attentively brought upstairs for me and hold it with stately patience."
With a nod Melina's big grin has eased to something resembling the tensed and forced expression of obligatory joy. I guess it's what I'd call having to take medicine that doesn't taste all that good but knowing that'll sure help you feel better in a couple of secs. Naturally, it also helps if your Mom's staring back down at you while she's giving you a good nudge in the back along with that ever loving wide-eyed absolute look of "Do it or else!"
As expected, it was only a mater of time before Aeron turns her unbroken attention to me as she steps closer and continues with, "Enigok...my young sweet "brothers," before you reply to my inquiry, consider carefully, are you certain you wish to continue your little game? Reflect upon the well-worn path you have here to fore traveled while I tell you a story that began long long ago. The story you have craved and must hear begins with you. As you were a spring to its beginning, you are also the measure to the depth of its well. Little brother, the story began four millennia past and has progressed, yet with each step, forward, a millenium has passed. Nonetheless, each step has been contingent upon the mispersception either of a touch or of a gift or sadly...both. Determine now if it, for all, shall end, if ever.
"It is comforting that as you now willingly lift your gentle face to look at me that I may cup your smooth chin within my hands and guide your gentle features up towards my eyes to look upon; yet value, that your ability to induce both judgmental fear and lament is lost upon me. My sweet, it is not that you are incapable of doing so; to the contrary, I understand that you are able to do that and so much more. Christopher-Elias, it was the promise, the blood oath, you made to another...that we have been and always shall be...accepted as family. Have you deduced the obvious and understand the nuances?"
We nod our head and understand, while noticing as we look up, that except for the first and last seated, the Gallery of the Gods leans forward in expectation and waits: the exceptions, as always, remain the inherent stoics of time; and both have long been displeased.
"Enigok. Then, it is here and at this time, I ask you to discern each event in context and as you do, consider the alternatives presented, either continue to remain the ceaseless wanderer you have become or start anew. If you elect to persist, as payment, you shall amass your greatest fear; on the other hand, if you choose otherwise, the onerous cycle you have trapped yourself and others within shall be broken, yet either choice will bind you and shall remain your obligation...the choice is yours."
As I look at Aeron's face it is no longer a mirthful mask, it, is now the visage of determination and concern. With our pained smile of acknowledgment, she continues with, "Good, I will hold you to your promise. Now I shall begin.
"Once upon a time, little one, and so long long ago, you wept; and in your tormented slumbers wondered aloud when your journey would cease, if ever. As you repeatedly, so long ago plaintively asked, finally, we can and with certainty reply. Together, Mother and I have seen the alternative...that...is why she phoned me. All in our family have waited...unwearyingly. It has always been our...uncalled for...desire...to make certain that you, who once walked among us, is not lost to us forever...and us to you...my sweet...do you understand?"
We nod again and wait for...
"The key question, I will ask is neither rhetorical nor inconsequential. Will you build new memories or now begin to crumble among the living dead that you so frequent in the past? If the latter is truly your intention, then we are sorry for you...and for us...for the loss will be great. Except for the prosaic riddle you posed to your mother, the meaning of your names was but an additional subterfuge to mask the wants of your many desires. You would force her to persist, with the knowledge that she would not provide the answer you sought. Yet you continued to provoke her...to no end...understanding that in doing so that the provocation itself would become the means to an end; a vehicle through which you could continue without fear of loss to seek what you most desired yet most feared.
"First, little one, you most skillfully posed a...liar's question...for Julia to answer truthfully and understood the impossibility of the choices you offered her...that each contained inherent and distinctive degress of guilt upon a choice...and that each was indeed inimitable. Therefore, she perceived, that regardless of the choice, to choose one above the other, the decision would again forever shatter not just her being but also rend her soul; consequently, it was unlikely that she would answer. It was from experience, you understood that as a mother, she had learned and as expected, you knew she could not and would not answer the one self-serving question you posed, which of you would she yield? Logically, you deduced that her painstaking reply would thus insure your quest as timeless; as her answer could and would be considered in part a denial and thus not a lie; becoming in itself a fine but hair-line distinction upon which to rely.
"Long long ago, you began as a child and sought only to follow the truth. This was the face upon which you dwelled and used as the foundation of your jouney when you began. Initially, it is what you sought and chose to follow and what you have long hunted. It is after all...all you had asked for...and with but few exceptions, which you have so poignantly noted...it is all you, have received. Only recently did you understand that your solitary want of the past...is now...significantly less...than the sum of your current and many needs. Little one, she understands what you desire; but cannot, and will not tell you. The freedom of choice was hers if she had the will not to do so and you were the catalyst. That is the basis of your growing guilt. We both understand why. It is now written all over your face as well as elsewhere and it has at this time surfaced to face you.
"Only now do you realize that your ever present collaborator, time, as you, has evolved. It has transitioned from the once impassive ally to a now formless and intractable adversary; the wordless turncoat with whom you at this instant must also unexpectedly contest. It is at this moment you perceive that time has become the suble thief of youth:* while it sits and waits, it has patiently all but stolen your wings; and you are unaccustomed with the growing remorse, which at this instant steadily begins to consume you.
"Only moments ago, I relayed to all but a portion of how "creative" you were. Now the remainder of your cunning is worth mentioning. Long long ago, conceivably by your measure but mere seconds, you realized that you were not satisfied and desired more; perceiving that if you persisted with little you would always have little but little more. Daringly, you came to know us and accepted us as family...you knew it would thus serve both of our many needs.
"Even so Christopher-Elias, you could not bring yourself to abandon your quest nor willingly surrender to the void. Obviously, to do so would violate your code of honor to yourself, to us and to others. Mother's call to me brought home and proved the point that in your search for what you lacked, in time, as I, you too had become obsessive.
"At some moment through your many journeys forward and back, you realized what would occur if you were "...to put your own wishes aside, to renounce, to give in and serve the will of the community." Implicitly, upon hearing those words the predictability of your honor was summoned. At that moment, you understood and further committed yourself not to fail.
"At that moment in time, the community, the state, in which you found yourself was foreign to your being; inevitably in what would be but moments to you, that that would be "the most dangerous moment;" not only for you but also for all others and "You would not allow it"...to succeed with your assistance. "In that most dangerous moment," for you only several breaths ago, my sweet little one, "...the young boy contained within died," he no longer lives. Moreover, through it all you did not cry out, nor did you shed a tear. We are honored through your courage. At that moment, the smile on your face belied the "...young man to be who will live longer."
"I counseled you to remember, "If you must kill, kill for a reason." Revenge is but one reason we are aware of, but now, the growing tears in your eyes cannot wash away the understanding of what you have done: for you my brother that will take...time. We cry for you, are saddened at your loss, but admire and value your act. Enigok. Now as I release your face from my hands, it is as Sachem of the Northern Tribes that I discharge you of the blood oath; we are moved at your gallantry; and will accept willingly what is offered in return, if you so choose."
Elias and I can take a hint but before we can speak, she does.
"Christopher...before I continue...please...I would ask...now...upon your release...consider but do not be in hast to reply...am I...are we...still accepted as...family?"
(Elias and I hadn't considered that question. But in all honesty...if we did consider it for very long, for even a millisecond, I'd turn out to be a real butthole. No Elias...no problem with that question...not at all. Besides, we both know she was kinda antsy about asking that...but...if I were in her shoes, I suppose I'da asked it too.) Of course, I would expect her to follow that question up with a...
"Please forgive me...that question was uncalled for. I was worried that..."
My almost immediate reply isn't all that great, just one whispered word, "Forever," brings the smile back to her face as she pauses for a moment then edges towards Melina while attempting to appear unruffled. Her tone of voice has changed from edgy to...well...tender?
"Little one, with Mother's call I now know even more of your creativity, though I will admit, not everything. Yet I confess I am increasingly astounded at your sagacity and wiliness. You no doubt have noticed the parcel, which Melinda now holds. Initially, the parcel held but one item. Your grandmother, thought to engender it...spice it up a bit...so to speak. Forgive me, but Mother has always had a flare for the romantic as well as the dramatic, which I might add, sometimes comes at considerable expense to...well...let's say...she enjoys a good tale or joke...usually directed at another's inflated ego...especially mine. You no doubt noticed... she is able to journey without leaving the farm so to speak. Regardless, she artfully added a little something...extra. She says it is from a mutual acquaintance, who passed some time ago and to whom she had entrusted, hand-to-hand, a certain and most timely gift...to which in turn she received a...timely communication...and the now stilled voice who exceeded his obligations seeks to plead to you for another's actions.
"Perchance you are expecting a most particular and timely explanaton? If so, allow me to remove it from the parcel, though before I do, understand that whatever else the parcel contains is now Melinda's. Originally, I thought to give it to you but it is now hers to bestow...upon you...if...you will accept it from her...rather than me. Consider that prospect while I tender this last of your timely gifts to your mother. It is after all hers."
Without fanfare, Aeron quickly pulls either end of the two strands of white twine that hold the packages plain brown paper wrapping together. Melina is really jazzed but is somehow managing to hold still in anticipation of seeing whatever it is that's packed inside of it. But Aeron has other ideas. Instead of popping the lid, all she does is reach inside and pull out one plain brown paper bag; closes the lid and smiles at Melina while whispering, "It's not nice to peak before its time." Then while holding the bag speaks to Mother. "Julia Athena...please...listen most carefully...in the past several moments you have shared much but we now share more: a commonality. As Sachem of the Northern Tribes, Mother, it is my honor to extend my hands and present to you this most timely gift; with the understanding that we are family and hold no malice; it is our desire to be at peace. It would please us, as a considersation; if you would share what you discover with us so that others may not be deaf eared."
With the expectant and resigned look of, "Oh what the hell do I have to lose," Mother accepts the sack; forces a polite smile and unfolds the open end. Then cautiously pulls from it several envelopes which being numbered, are obviously intended to be read in order. As she begins to view the first, both of Aeron's arms have found their way to wrap themselves around me and I find myself being turned to face Mother and pulled backwards and ever closer to her; understanding the nuances she offers and that at some point upon our meeting that I will and must stop. She holds the key closer than most have and we are at peace with her.
Mother silently reads what is written on the first and oldest looking envelope and whispers what is penned, "Zu: Freida A. Bergoneer..."Frau, ist...
_____________________
*John Milton...Poet
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"...viele Jahre gewesen, aber ich habe Ihnen die Freiheit des Ubersetzens der Majoritat meines ursprunglichen Briefes genommen. Diese bestimmte Kommumnikation ist fur nur Ihre Augen und ist nicht irgendeiner anderen Partei gesendet worden; noch ist es uberhaupt. Ich vertraue, daB Sie dieses als das erste meiner Taten des Trotzes schatzen. Aber mehr zum Punkt, wenn ich zu irgendeinem anderen zulassen sollte, wa ich diesen spaten Nachmittage erfahren lasse und auch festgelegt zu haben selbsst, ohne Zogern wurde ich auch zusammenfassend durchgefuhrt; ohne zweiten Gedanken. Passend auf, "Wasser" Beschadigung, von Vorlage, die inner halb dieses Umschlags enthalten wird, bitte ich Sie, einzustellen es beiseite wahren des Momentes, da es weites weniger lesbares ist; auBerdem nach Erklarun und wenn es angesehen wird, im Kontext liegt es hinsichtlich warum auf der Hand. Werhner. (To: "Freida A. Bergoneer" Frau, it has been a great number of years, but I have taken the liberty of translating the majority of my original letter to you. This particular communication is for your eyes only and has not been sent to any other party; nor will it ever be. I trust you will appreciate this as the first of my acts of defiance. But more to the point, if I were to admit to any other what I have this late afternoon experienced and have committed myself to, without hesitation, I too would be summarily executed; without second thought. Due to "water" damage, of the original, which is contained within this envelope, I will ask you to set it aside for the moment, as it is far less legible; moreover upon explanation and when viewed in context it will be obvious as to why. Werhner.)"
Mother quizzically looks up, places the large brown tattered envelope with the meticulous yet bold handwriting on my bed, then immediately proceeds to the second; turns it over and loosens the thin figure eight looped tanned thread, which holds the brown flap cover secure. it is here, after withdrawing several sheets of yellowed writing paper that she inhales deeply and begins with, "Frau, heute abendhabe ich wiederholt michbemuht, Sie zu schreiben und in jedem Versuch, bin ich miserable ausgefallen. (Frau, this evening I have again and again endeavored to write you and in each attempt, I have failed miserably). Fur ihn nicht nur ist meine Risse, die mich gezwungen haben, jede Linie zu beflecken, die, ich geschrieben hatte aber mit jeder Bemuhung, lauft die Tinte von gut meiner Feder am Willen und is tuber meiner Steuerung hinaus. (For it is not only my tears, which have forced me to blot each line I had written but with each endeavor, the ink from the well of my pen runs at will and is beyond my control.)
"Regretfully, I fear you will not understand. Allow me...to apologize once more and...forgive me for what I must and will myself to do. Today, after you so adroitly excused yourself to the dining carriage, I sat, presumably to be alone, with your beautiful boy, envisioning with his aid the grandiose probabilities of the future. Then within the span of minutes, my known world turned upon itself, leaving me not only rueful but also in dout as to my being. This afternoon, upon my implementation of General Order No. 1244/x0x0, allowing for what we both understood to euphemistically be termed an "Unpretentious Consultation" and after loyally discharging said order; my conclusions have been sent to all concerned, a copy of which I have attached to this particular correspondence.
"Permit a brief explanation, for the conundrum of responsibility, to me, is perplexing and I now wish to clarify circ-umstances, which are equally confounding having made me both apprehensive and fearful..Vor einiger Zeit zuerst da I zuerst Ihres Sohns ansah, penciled Arbeiten, waren nicht nur ich erstaunten aber sich vorstellten auch eine Zunkunft des unubertroffenen Triumphes und der unerme Blichen Vollendung. (Some time ago, initially, as I first viewed your son's penciled works, not only was I astonished but also envisioned a future of unsurpassed triumph and of immense accomplichment). Candidly, I had dutifully studied the several other endeavors, which he had so artistically offered the months prior to our supposed "Incidental and Unscheduled" meeting at the train station. In those early ensuing hours, I carefully scrutinized each, and grew increasingly captivated and marveled at what this child had created and so meticulously detailed; even to the nomenclature assigned to each miniscule part of the imagery. Traurig jetzt verstehe ich den morgens, um zu sein eine Partei zu was voran und Entdeckung selbst ein widerstrebender Teilnehmer liegt, wie bin Ihr Sohn. (Sadly, now, I understand that I am to be a party to what lies ahead and find myself a reluctant participant, as is your son.)
"Furthermore, I fully grasp that what I write, today, this very evening, upon its discovery, shall be considered the insane ramblings of a man of whom you have had little knowledge. Oder traurig, nach der Zusammenfassung unserer aller zu kurzen, dennoch Initiale Sitzung, vond der Sie verdientermaBen wahrend einiger Zeit in der niedrigen Achtung halten. Noch sollen Sie versuchen, Sie zu tauschen, denn viele Jahre verstehe ich, daB Sie mich auch verantwortlich fur den Tod Ihres Kindes halten. So sei es. (Or sadly, upon the conclusion of our all too brief, yet initial meeting, of whom you will deservedly hold for some time in low esteem. Nor shall I attempt to beguile you, for many years I understand you will also hold me responsible for the death of your child. So be it.
"Today the short note which I pressed to your hands ostensibly reflected "my desires" for you and the boy, and to which I trust you will and have compelled yourself to honor despite the fact that you have acceded without prior knowledge or condition to do so. Please understand that these heretofore-unmentioned envisioned obligations are in essence neither my needs nor wants. I wrote them reluctantly and at the behest of your son, except for one, each was his. I cannot diminish my complicity but can assuage to some degree the consequences. Sie begreifen Kurz. Sie mussen. (You will comprehend shortly. You must.)
-
The difficulty I face in penning this is further complicated for it requires a leap of faith or of trust, either of which sadly now I have little: and here you will think me mad; for in the "time" I believe in which "you read this, I, Werhner, shall be dead...as will "you." However, I am now of the conviction that who so ever, shall read this missive, her eyes will fully appreciate what is read. Truthfully, I am at a loss to address you properly: as the personage I once fleetingly met as Freida Bergoneer, will have long since passed from this earthly plane of existence; she is now, in part, the embodiment of another. In essence, guaranteeing that both shall literally grasp this at the same moment; contingent of course, that another has fulfilled her obligations and through her assigned has delivered it to you.
"I shall endeavor to be brief. Consider, that I nodded to you upon your exit from the carriage, and as I ordered, your escort Hans immediately assumed his post; that you then watched on most stoically; as I drew the doors closed and locked them from within as further insurance that we would not be disturbed. I perceived that your last look to me, was one of unspoken reproach, as I then began to secure the curtains: I, most wanted to guarantee additional privacy. Whereupon, I promptly sat opposite your son; admittedly, for that moment, smugly lost in the revelry of thought. With you gone, I prized the moment and arrogantly considered myself victorious, while securely holding his invaluable and newly penciled works upon my lap.
"Here I must admit that I began to tremble for without a word and with but one look into his emerald green eyes he shattered my heretofore unwavering and conceited resolve. Yet, in that same breath of the moment, my mind flooded with images of all types. Remarkably, the compendiums of illustrations were accompanied by a thunderous cacophony of sounds, yet each was unique to an image in itself: markedly distinct, separate and discernible. The majority of representations were wondrous and in those few moments, I silently marveled at their matchlessness while others were in all honesty, no less than terrifying; I feard each in its particular singularity. Ich setzte voraus, daB die Gatter des Himmels oder der Holle sich vor mir geoffnet hatten und ich ein Eindringling geworden war, zum irgendein zu beobachten. (I presumed the Gates of Heaven or of Hell had opened before me, and I had become an intruder to observe either simultaneously.)
"Likewise, as Hoven and Kohler previously, I began to weep uncontrollably, certain, as they, that I too would find myself fearing the child as well as his potentiality. Concomitantly, I mused in astonishment as to why Hans had not been reduced to the same condition: for even though he appeared perplexed at the failure of his P-08, he too had looked into Joachem's eyes, yet appeared unmoved and unperturbed. Rather to the contrary, appearing to be content, in some manner resolved or for the lack of a better word if you will, pleased.
"Sofort, verstand ich, daB die Warnungen, die innerhalb Stellrechts' Kommunique enthalten wurden, in hohem Brade ungenau und uberhaupt so bescheiden understated waren. (Immediately, I understood the warnings contained within Stellrechts' communique were highly inaccurate and ever so modestly understated.) At that moment, I feared Joachem, dreaded my very being, and understood the shallowness of my wants. Once more, I contemplated that as with Hoven and Kohler that I would meet a similar fate. It was then, as I contemplated the noticeable, that it occurred.
"Rechts mein erschien ein Portal des blind machenden Lichtes. (To my right a portal of blinding light appeared.) Ostensibly, it emanated from but a portion of the carriage's doors and as I stared on in amazement, through this luminous gateway strode an imposing fair-skinned young woman of unsurpassed beauty; well over two meters in height. Verstehen Sie, daB die Turen nicht geoffnett...Frau...diese Frau gingen durch sie, als ob sie nicht bestanden. Nein. Nein, bin ich zweimal in der Storung, ging diese Erscheinung nicht...sie glitt...durch Angelegenheit effortlessy bewegen und anheilt gerade innerhalv des Faches noch uber den noch gezeichneten Vorhangen hinaus; welches motionles blieb, nachdem esnicht konnen sich ruhren esnicht konnen hatte, selbst als sie an umzog Wille durch sie. (Understand the doors had not opened...Frau...this woman walked through them as if they did not exist. Nein. Nein, I am twice in error, this apparition did not walk...she glided...moving effortlessly through matter and halted just within the compartment yet beyond the still drawn curtains; which remained motionless, having failed to stir even as she moved at will through them.) There I sat in awe slack jawed, while trying to maintain my wits; and attempted to note her every attribute. Frau, her golden hair appeared to radiate as if by design, and but a portion of its braided length, completely encircled her head to emanate as a tiara of unsurpassed brilliance, the remainder of her tresses fell to a point well below her waist.
"Her brief pause allowed me to next observe the wide purple and gold embroidered sash or girdle that firmly wrapped about her waist and through the dimming light, it cast a spectrum of colors, as a rainbow would, upon the carriages inner walls. At that same moment, her right hand moved slowly, almost considerately, coming to rest upon the well-worn burnished grip of an imposing sword. For some reason I felt that action as most deliberate, for she then began to strum the length of it, playing her fingers from its butt down to where it stirred as if called to move upon its own volition. Striving to move itself forebodingly away from it's hilt, as if it was itself considering a likely option; to be used or not, it remained sleeved within its bejeweled-sheath as she spoke to it by name, "Durendal." Her additional words of "Durendal, be still my devine. Be still my precious, be still," appeared to calm it.
"With a gasp I looked up to her face and immediately felt myself a fearful and lost child for not only did this vision, this specter of beauty, cause me to quake in her mere presence, die wahrend eines Momentes schimmerten und smoldering als Warteglut...ihren Funken zur Zundung warten...die...in sofortiger der...sie auf dann explodierten, feuerte durch mich ab (...it was her eyes which glimmered for a moment, smoldering as waiting embers...waiting their spark to ignition...that...in that instant...they exploded upon then fired through me.) Frau...I feared...I feared. At that moment, in the certainty that I was lost, I sought to scream but could not. I sought to flee but could not move. I sought so much but now feared even more. I sought to plead for mercy but instead found myself voiceless. At that moment, the white portal behind her closed, and then, for some strange reason, I heard the sound of a child's music box, which played the simple lullaby, I had long long ago forgotten. Er war der van Brahms. (It was that of Brahms.) Implicitly I understood...this fearsome specter came...to be near...and to watchfully stand guard...over your son. In diesem Moment erinnerte mich ich, vergessen Kleks ich hatte viel und aber hatte mehr einschlieBlich meine Tugend verloren. Repulsively, verstand ich was ich suchte, zu nehmen, war Unschuld Joachems. Ich behob...mich konnte nicht noch Wille I. (In that moment I remembered I had forgotten much but had lost more...including my virtue. Repulsively, I understood what I sought to take, was Joachem's innocence. I resolved...I could not nor will I.)
"I...am uncertain of how but during this...this catharsis...I remembered and thought it quite odd that, time itself, stood still for yet a second occasion and in that strange moment...yet an even stranger dialogue ensued. Madam, Joachem appeared to sit...bewildered and unblinking and by appearance motionless. However, somehow it was "his" voice I heard suggesting a compact. If you will a course comprised of various actions. However, it is here where the incredulous became strained to the limits of my acceptance. Zu meinem Erstaunen fing ich an, meine Antwort aber nicht...ich bedeute...I zu sagen gehort sprechen Sie abe meine Lippen bewogen nicht, dennoch weiB ich, daB es ich war, der die u;ngeraden Fragen bestatigte (To my astonishment I began my reply but did not...I mean to say...I heard myself speak but my lips did not move yet I know it was I who acknowledged the odd questions.) Frau, I heard my voice respond to the first of Joachem's questions: as if my very thoughts were torn from, my mind yet voiced aloud. Das erste der aufgeworgenen Fragen, "Wurden Sie einem Flur verspechen, welches wurde Konswquenz mein Abbau von dieser Zeit?" (The first of the questions posed, "Would you promise a corridor which would consequence my removal from this time?") Frau, I...I cannot explain how...yet I immediately understood the appalling implication of the suggested compact and immediately, as a matter of ease, if not sheer expedience, thought to disown the matter and literally excuse myself from the entire issue. I thought first to maintain the modest appearance of considered thoughtfulness, I would respectfully reflect on the proposal; I would then delay for a courteous interlude, before dismissing it outright. I would, I thought, avoid the dilemma. I...thought...to purely offer but a smile and gentle dismissal. I...would then proceed and all would be well; but in that same moment, another voice spoke, claiming it a matter of choice and that...I...must not dimiss it as a matter of convenience. That my expedience would stand in the way and in turn, that...I...would lose my greatest window of opportunity. I then mused that perhaps my action would become the focal point upon which destiny would divide itself. All I thought...I heard...as if voiced...but my words were ignored. All within the dialogue appeared to be deaf eared to my wants. I would not knowingly kill nor harm the one I would protect as my own. The muted retort provided the antithetical truth..."yet by the alternative you would?" He blithely continued, as if in another realm, and secondly...
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"Wurden Sie abgeschafft zu liefern," was ich horte benannt: "ein fristgerechtestes Geschenk?" (Would you be disposed to deliver," what I distinctly heard called "a most timely gift?)" He lastly concluded with, "Das letzte folgerte, mussen die Konsequenz von der ersten sein (The latter must be the consequence of the first.)"
"Forgive my ramblings, but I have always deemed myself a most pragmatic and calculating individual and have always been of the opinion that if all else is impossible to believe then the remaining alternative, however improbable or unlikely, must be the cause. Die Ursache ist Ihr Sohn. Nein...nein...in aller Ehrlichkeit, die ist, aber in einer teilweisen Wahrheit (The cause is your son. No...no...in all honesty that is but a partial truth).
"Frau, the child's voice I heard first was that of Joachem's, but it was also his as an older child. Your son is...not alone, he is beset. Besides the one who guards him...at least two...perhaps three others travel with him of that I am certain. Wie Sie bitten konnten? (How you might ask?) The answer is because I am first...a man...of science. Even though I am young, I consider myself a learned man and Descartes' precept of "Ergo gonate sum" zu mir ist ein Truism (to me is a truism). In my mind repeatedly, I have listened to the harmonics of each and have judiciously eliminated all other possibilities. Drei Stimmen, obwohl ahnlich, in der unterschiedlichen Resonanz etwas seien Sie: dennoch sind jede im Taktabstand, Erschutterung, Ton, Impuls und timbre die Variante von einem ursprunglichen, wenn Sie ein ursprungliches Warter. Eine Eigen heit. Im wesentlichen trotz der geringfugigen Differentiale, sind alle gleichwetig: praktisch unmoglich. (Three voices, though similar, are in resonance slightly different: yet each in pitch, vibration, tone, pulse and timbre are the variant of one: a primal one; if you will a singularity. In essence, despite slight differentials, all are equivalent: virtually impossible to differentiate).
"I sat in astonished silence, listening...as the conversations of these unseen shadows progressed...to an ostensible conclusion. It was then the hackles on my skin rose further for I observed out from the corner of my eye, that which appeared in the windows of the carriage, the spectral faces of children. I first sought to dismiss the visions as induced by the delirium of stress. In disbelief, I looked to your son but...consider again...I am...a man of science. I deal...with fact...coincidence and happenstances are not in my lexicon of acceptable alternative explanations; nor am I predisposed to be swayed by sheer emotionalism. Frau, surrounding and emanating outward from your son, and upward from beneath the carriages floor were, multiple colored lines of oscillating colored lights; if you will permit the analogy, and forgive the technicalities; they were akin to the observable as those found within the electromagnetic spectrum. Furthermore, in each of the seven colors, yet contained within their respective crest and waves, each modulated accordingly to its assigned specific color in both amplitude and frequency. In non-technical language, the light and matter within the carriage became both distorted and displaced; yet apparently was controlled within that limited area of time and space.
"Those gentle faces, which were cast upon these eddy of shimmering lights, appeared as incorporeal as those radiant beams. Sie war an diesem Punkt, als, mit einem etwas unterhaltenen Lacheln, sein Wachter ihre linke Hand bis zu ihrem Kinn holte, als ob einen Punkt betrachten; Ich verstand, daB Position unspoken. Auf ihrem linken Arm gerade unter ihrem Winkelstuck war eine Markierung identish zu dem Ihrer Sohne (It was at that point when, with a slightly amused smile, his sentinel brought her left hand to her chin, as if to consider a point; to which I understood the unspoken yet viewed supposition. On her left arm, just below her elbow was a mark: identical to that of your sons). And upon my observation her mused titter to me of, "Werhner, only now do you understand he bears not only my mark, but His, for time without end, the choice is now yours," left me chilled and desperately at a loss: to choose. I mortally feared either choice; yet I have done so.
"To which then the questions were again posed while at that same moment a passage from one whom I too had diligently studied... the voice of a child coarsed through me. "Ich lebe in der Sunde, um mich, das ich, lebe, nicht mehr mein Leben meine Selbst, aber Sunden zu toten; meine gutes wird mir durch Himmel, mein ubel durch mich, durch meinen freien Willen gegeben, den ich werde beraub (I live in sin, to kill myself I live, no longer my life my own, but sins; my good is given to me by heaven, my evil by myself, by my free will, of which I am deprived)." Whereupon the spectral discussion abruptly ended. The concurrence being that your child would yield his own life to deprive what would consume him, if not us all. Now I too fear that end and more; as time grows short and many of the SA and SS will soon be here for my written evaluation, as well as my justification* for findings. Verstehen Sie? (Do you understand?)
"Frau, for my promised actions, your son has provided me with a variety of confidential and in part, timely articles of information. Incredibly, he states the Fuehrer will have me executed...if my knowledge is the least bit compromised or if I am at the slightest risk of capture in some forthcoming conflict. Personally, I consider this an unlikely occurrence and of which I am highly doubtful. Yet he states, that I will recognize that moment when it draws near, for in the midst of the maelstrom the Fuehrer himself will summon me to his side. It is then that I will fathom that the end is near. Secondly, that I shall be blacklisted and actively sought by those who are aware of me. It would seem that many should consider me a wanted man, either dead or alive; though if I am to live, he cautions it imperative that my knowledge must never fall into the hands of whom Hovan shall secretly champion. Again, here, I am at a loss; as your son laughed when I thought Hovan a loyalist and would betray neither the Reich nor the Fuehrer. Yet here I sit contemplating that I would obligate myself to do so. However improbable the thought, he concluded that I must also choose a path the opposite as directed to escape; that is the first of the mysteries he left me to unravel. He secondly alluded that a future emissary, in whom the longevity of trust in whom he had long ago established, would contact me. Whereupon a most exceptional and distinctive pen, identical in every respect to that splendid item you carried in your purse and shown to me by your son in your absence, would be placed in my hands. He concluded that with her I would discover the courage to deliver it, as it is issential that it be a "most timely" yet solitary gift, to you.
"Frau, to misconstrue the intent of the description of this gift would be unwise. From the moment he touched this uniquely crafted endeavor, it was evident that a bond between the child and pen existed: that if by nature called to him. His gentle touch and modest caresses of the object did not escape my notice as he cradled it in both hands. While I am a man of science, I understand that touch and have often considered it myslef. Yet, when a child is lonely, retiring and seemingly friendless, the approving if not tender touches to the object spoke volumes. I understand as well the longing of wanting and of not having. Nevertheless, even more so at this moment: of having and of being forced willingly to surrender it.
"What was also evident, "my dear," is that among the many fears which I may hold the child's most paramount fear is more so: it is losing you; from my observation...he is torn.
"Permit my apparent faux pax in addressing you as, "my dear:" as a mother the child will always be yours, yet, from that moment on, I will protect him as my own as I now consider myself irreconcilably bound to this chilld. That...was my sole and unconditional written desire: that you "accept my presence as surrogate without condition of a touch or sanctified agreement." As my note indicated, "I will maintain a respectful distance and make no further demands upon you whatsoever; nor shall any others. You have my word.
"Forgive my dispassionate closing remarks. I understand what was asked of me and why. Remorsefully, I have agreed. The corridor he selects to follow is potentially fatal, yet he trusts in that second more than I, you must, as well. For it is at that moment on his authority and by my concurrent written order that he will leave the combined meeting of the SA & SS and flee the "selected of the Hitler youth" to find what he euphemistically deems "safe haven." Whom I now perceive as the monsters of the SA or SS will neither knowingly stand nor idly watch what they desire most to be lost to that end.
"I must hurry the last of my message and hide it...they draw near. Hopefully...I will write again when...
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*The theory of Justification is based upon Christian doctrine that God's grace absolves people from all sin.
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Mother's eyes look up towards me and I understand the hurt look in her eyes. But she still quite hasn't put it all together. She carefully places the meticulously penned sheets back into the envelope and places it beside the first. The final envelope is clearly visible and distinctly different from the previous two. It is sky blue and at the top left hand corner is an eagle: its emblazoned colored representation is bold and fierce: it is in flight, with talons extended and stares boldly at any and all which might dare cross its path. There, upon the face, to the center, contained within two seperate lines are the suprising bold words:
To: Julia Athena Aletheia
From: Werhner
The handwriting below both names is conspicuously different and reads, "Dear. Ms. Aletheia, father died on June 16, 1977. A short year prior to his death, he relayed to me a fascinating story and then asked me to complete it for him. I have done so. Respectfully, Peter.
Mother opens the impressive cover and as her hands begin to tremble, she begins to read. "Dear Julia...Todays date is June 16, 1976. I have little time left to live and my family is concerned for my health, yet I, though dying, am not troubled. Forty-three years ago and approaching my twenty-fourth birthday, I promised a most prescient child that I would deliver a most timely gift. During the course of those many years, I have suffered through many failures and have had some limited successes as well. Yet, I have never forgotten my vow and now must enlist my son Peter to fullfill that obligation. Now I find my tears have once more washed into but a blur the ink upon each page, which for some unfathomable reason flows uncontrollably.
"None-the-less, at this moment, it is my continued yet humble presumption that you exist while I do not. In essence, my dear, you are reading the acknowledgment of one who is deceased; and as such, admissibly accept what I write at face value.
"Several weeks ago, I met an astonishing dark hared woman with whom I shared a most peculiar vision. On one sunny afternoon in May of this year, she appeared, entering my office unannounced and introduced herself merely as an emissary of trust whose name was Aeron. For but a moment and with a broad smile she observed my apparent confusion; then reached within her purse and pulled from it an object I long long ago remembered as being staggeringly matchless. Permit my informality, Julia, for long long ago, and at first sight, I veritably fawned over and became enamored with it: as I was allowed to both view and hold it. At that moment in time, I judged it was peerless: a masterpiece without equal. Today, many years later, more than ever, I am still of that opinion.
"As I previously have noted, this personage presented to me what in appearance was an exact replica of the pen I previously so gingerly held years prior. Speechless and amazed I reached for the item, and without hesitation grasped it; pausing for a moment to consider the obvious. Was this in fact the final fulfillment of the child's prophesy? Upon my momentary lapse, she spoke and addressed me by name and curiously inquired as to my immediate health. In all honesty, her words grew faint as my mind raced back years to remember that flash point in time; while at the same moment, I thought myself unable to think clearly. In some manner, she perceived my physical imparements, of having become not only dizzy and feint, but strangely physically numbed. She soothingly requested that I take my seat to gather and calm myself. I thought it prudent advice and did so.
"In my mind, I thought my medications the cause of my sudden debilities but dismissed the notion. Never had I experienced such sensations and I closed my eyes in hopes of ridding myself of them. Upon doing so, incredulously, I found myself simultaneously rotating and falling, not from where I sat down and on to the floor, but to a point well within. The reality I sensed was that I was falling inward: being drawn back, internally, sensing, as if I was being pulled within myself. I held my breath in hope to dispel my fear: thinking that it would be my last. With my head spinning, I closed my eyes only to hear at that moment what she spoke. I thought her crazed when she announced, "Werhner, your timely voyage is at hand."
"It was at that moment I perceived a growing static charge upon which the hairs on my skin raised accordingly. In terror, I opened my eyes and observed for a second time in my life and unparalleled spectrum of oscillating lights: which rotated, then moved to surround and I thought then would move through, to consume me. Whereas before I considered them as both soundless and harmless modulations, this time however the thought was immediately otherwise. The energy they emitted harmonically replicated the crackling of charged electrons as would the buzzing of tens of thousand of bees, which as they moved closer grew increasingly louder, angry and fiercer. I thought the delusion most impressive until it touched then passed through me. Closing my eyes, it was then that I veritably felt myself moved; from a place and time, where I had been and existed, to one where I would soon comprehend, that I had never been or had yet to occur.
"To my astonishment, and in a veritable sweat, when I opened my eyes, there, instead of my office, I found myself standing alone upon an asphalt road in what I presumed to be the late morning sun. The horrendous buzzing had subsided to an acceptable level...emulating the accustomed humming sound as that made of an electrical transformer or of overhead high-tension electrical cables...moments later, it ceased and except for the rustling of leaves in the wind all else was quiet and stilled.
"I allowed my eyes to adjust then wander for a moment and in doing so I recognized my general setting: after all, I had often worked near by; moreover the street sign which read Seminole, merely served to confirm my observation. Strangely, I then found myself spurred as if summoned to walk westward, towards the last of three small bungalows that loomed ahead and directly to my right; at which point, I stopped for a moment at its opened gate. A white cobblestone path within the fenced confines presented itself and in amusement for some reason, as a child would; I thought to count the number of stones as I walked myself to the entry and stepped up and on to the front porch of the structure. I thought it ironic, that the black numerals upon the slatted front wall were identical with my concluded last step to the porch: the sum of which was twenty-two.
"I thought to knock but surmising my experience and exceptional hallucinogenic daydream; entered unannounced. At that moment, my dear Julia, my world again changed and dare I write, so did yours.
"Upon entering and to my immediate left, I viewed a simple table and chair. In disbelief, I approached and sought to verify what lay in plain sight upon the table. Cautiously I approached and mused to myself the impossibility of it all; to which my thought was denied. The voice, that of a young woman, spoke to me, "How strange Werhner that you feared my Durendal as a young man yet now would approach it in wonderment and with little trepidation." On hearing her words, the now shaking old man I had become moved to gently ease the chair out; then sat to look down upon it. I cried as I did.
"For but a short period, thus engrossed and fixated I visually studied every aspect of this entity. I then casually lifted my head and found seated before me the same and seemingly ageless vision which once terrified me as a youth. Immediately, my thought was first of her flashing eyes and at once I recoiled accordingly. Only the rigid back of the chair forced me to cease my retreat. Her pleasant smile was in stark contradiction of my past and still lingering memory of her. The silence between the two of us was broken with her parenthetical question, "Werhner, you have noticed the blade, have you so judiciously considered it; after all, are you first a man, and then, a man of science?" I nodded my wordless reply of "Yes." "Then," she continued, "My dear, as a learned man, of science, what is your conclusion; after all, you have always been pragmatic and deal with fact and are not predisposed to emotionalism. Yet consider, if the impossible is the remaining alternative, however improbable or unlikely: the remaining alternative must be: the cause, the answer or the missing piece of the riddle. Do you understand?"
Thunderstruck I thought my solitary one word reply of "Ja." Her voiced rejoinder of, "Then, Werhner Maximillian, man of science, explain the enigma." I could not bring myself to look up and into her eyes; instead, I focused upon the sword, which lay fully exposed beside its sheath upon the table. As would a schoolchild, I began to undertake with considerable forboding to reveal what I now had been tasked with and thought to be fact. No, my dear, I must correct myself. I now believed it to be fact.
"I thought to immediatly begin but abruptly concluded I could not. Instead, I quite timidly muttered, "Since our previous encounter I had often wondered your name? Perhaps...perhaps...it would be of..." I did not complete the thought; she did, with, "Werhner, the "Significance" of my name will come to you...in time." I closed my eyes but a moment, reflexively, to gather myself, inhaled deeply and began, "Years ago, curiously, I had researched the name which you called it. Improbably, I believe the sword which you called by name to be that once used by an ancient and legendary warrior. The legendary sword was his, obviously, it is now yours? I paused for several moments to again collect myself and found myself again gently prodded as a child for doing so with her words, "Very good Werhner, the answer to your questionable observation is...yes. That is level one. Proceed."
"I calmed myself and as asked continued. "Moreover, there is a significant and irregular gash which runs the length of its working blade on one side which intrudes within its fuller as well as its blood groove. I believe it to be a factor. But there is one other item. The blade has been unsuccessful in battle...as you can see...here" as I pointed, "...it is evident from the metals fatigue. By appearance whoever used the sword, held it by the right hand to ward off an impending blow for the greater portion of the blades loss occurred on the opposite side of what appears to be substantial contact. Consequently, it forced the metal to irregularly shear, perhaps to even splinter into multiple shards, as the object moved with considerable velocity through the fuller upon impact: evidently, ocurring along its most vulnerable portion; its cutting edge.
"Pausing for another moment, she chided me yet again. "Werhner, you speak as stating historical fact, while observing the obvious, and now ever so unsuspectingly you have come so far in so short a period of time, allow yourself the luxury and fulfill your obligation." Without thought, I apprehensively set upon the table what I realized I still grasped in my hand: a solitary pen. That action elicited her thought to me of, "Exceptional, that is level two: proceed."
"At that moment, I resolved the impossible and addressed the improbable as fact. I thought back to a moment in time when in the midst of doubt I observed within a spectrum of moving lights certain youthful faces and pondered as to their number or of actual being. I further considered the pen, which at that time I held and reflected upon, as the exact same pen that now lay on the table before me.
"Cautiously I reached out and moved the pen on the table adjacent to the sword to within but a portion of the first length of the gash to its body. I noted its location then moved it once, then again: the sum of the three strongly equated to the length of the entire gash. Curiously, an odd thought then struck me, so much so, that I set about and re-positioned the pen; matching one of the three filigreed inlays to the first blood line. The width and depth of both pen and sword lines appeared to be identical. I repeated the process via rotation: twice. I concluded the artisan who had fashioned the piece to be a master, as it appeared that each of the rotated filigrees were perfect matches; but also that in order to have fashioned the pen he would have to have had access to the legendary sword. Upon my concluded thought her words, "Outstanding, you have attained level three. Entertain the thought and continue."
"Almost gleefully as a child at Christmas, I persisted noting that the approximate mass, associated volume and concomitant size with respect to length lent itself to but one linear conclusion. The pen which I had just positioned was but one of three. The second, at one time, long ago, I also had held in my hands: obviously, therefore, that there is or was a third, which is missing and for some reason significant; there in shall hold the key." Instead of her chiding me once again, there was only silence.
"I then believed myself mad for the thought that struck me: of whom or what I actually sat in the presence of. Laughably, at one time, I had considered myself a learned man but now understood I truly knew little or nothing. The preposterous to consider was now neither happenstance nor coincidence. The learned man I once was was well read and especially familiar with the works of Homer and of those that once battled upon the fields of Troy. The learned man I had become understood the cause for the gash upon the sword and of the warrior's name who so valiantly wielded it. It was his sword, which failed him in battle againt both the greatest of the Greeks and of the goddess who aided him. Yet, it was his sword in the possession of this ageless spirit. Moreover, the three pens where somehow forged from the shattered portions of his sword. Three distinctively priceless items the product of one unique entity: possessed, by one who valued commitment and honor above all else, Hector of Troy.
"I harkened back to a time long long ago that I sat opposite a child arrogantly prizing a moment and considering myself victorious only to realize how quickly the taste of victory had turned and soured. Yet for some reason in my mind I bitterely tasted that moment again. I thought it strange as I felt neither victorious nor smug, just the opposite; and now I sat opposite the specter who at that moment so long ago had entered my life and shook from me with a glance what I prized most. As if it was hers, by Divine right, I sarcastically reproached myself, "Sieg Heil."
"I would have continued to dwell upon the past except for her voice that gently prodded me, "Werhner Maximillian, first a man, then of science, consider, as you look upon the pen that the source of your inspiration is close at hand. Shrewdly, have you honored me and in part called me by name. Instinctively, only you have held two of three unique items in your hands and with each have first acted with intellect, fondness and insight. What you, who thought himself first a man of science, yet has so accurrately perceived; now requests your touch; with its sanction, Athena, so agrees and grants to Werhner Magnus Maximillian Freiherr* von Braun.
"As any delirous fool in the midst of a daydream would, I smiled at the thought and reached with both hands to lift it from the table. At the touch, I marveled at the untold tale it revealed to me: of newfound and unyielding devotion. Moreover, I understood the terrible price paid by those who merely stood and watched as the tides of time passed them by. I could have sat, entranced for hours on end but...
_________________
Freiherr=Baron
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"...sadly and all too soon; it ended when her voice roused me from my enjoyable delirium. At the same moment, I perceived the faint sound that so terrified me only minutes before had resumed. Though audible, it remained at a distance and moved no closer. There is more, but I grow weaker and perhaps as you have noticed, I am becoming less succinct and prone to fits of...blatant emotionalism. I will conclude my letter to you when...ever...perhaps I will...need...additional time...if...I..."
Mother pauses for a moment and looks at the remainder of the page, which is blank. Carefully she sets aside all she has read and then from the following page resumes.
"Ms. Aletheia, today's date is January 15, 1977. Due to circ-umstances, father is, by his own hand, sadly unable to complete this letter...to you. Is is now, months later from when he first began and now seeks my assistance; asking that I relay to you what he is now to weak to write himself. I trust you will forgive this, my obvious, yet necessary intrusion, into his personal affairs.
"Despite my repeatedly expressed doubts, he obdurantly persists in maintaining that all reminiscences including the following are neither fabrications nor delusions. Moreover, that your name, if this is in fact truly your name, has been obtained in some convoluted manner which in and of itself is to me, still unfathomable. I will endeavor to explain in part by simply stating that father has claimed, as you have no doubt now read, that a woman visited him in his office, unannounced.
"I shall initially preface my remarks. I find this difficult to believe, as the facility in which father's office is located, known for both, its security and surveillance capabilities, is not entirely open to the casual visitor. Moreover, entry without proper doc-umentation is improbable if not impossible. Additionally, to traverse the distance from the facility's main entry and then to have walked to his office without having encountered four guarded checkpoints; at which each the proper doc-umentation or authorization for admittance is repeatedly verified seems highly unlikely; besides which, the caller must be accompanied by an assigned escort. To which then I would conclude that the main desk, responsible for admittance, has no record of any visitor either entering or leaving the facility on any given day solely to see him. Nor in any of the surveillance tapes, which constantly monitor each corridor, are any unaccounted for or unannounced visitors let alone some mysterious and solitary dark haired woman seen.
"However, there is one markedly doc-umented but as of yet unexplained event of record. Specifically, that on May 28,1976, the entire power grid serving the city of Huntsville, Alabama, as well as its surrounding areas, extending outward in a radius of over fifty miles, encompassing portions of five states, suffered a major and systemic collapse. The tangible duration of this event has been judiciouisly estimated at twenty-two minutes and one second. This does not preclude the obvious, that for some undetermined length of time, prior to and immediately thereafter (i.e. until its complete abatement), that it remained an observably doc-umented phenomenon.
"The ensuing and extensive investigation concluded that the epicenter of this "event" originated largely within the geographic confines of this facility. Oddly, it was at that same moment which the electrical cascading ripple effect ensued; which resulted in the interruption of all service. Ostensibly, it began at the main power plant, and then extended to its various transmission substations, assorted power substations, multiple transformers and lastly, a huge number of transformer drums. To use the current euphemism: it was a blackout of major proportions. I should also note, that during this period, the facility's standby generators and battery backups also failed. If you have not already surmised, it was father's office within the facility, ascertained as ground point zero.
"I would further interject that immediately subsequent to the event that father unswervingly maintained to all first responders investigating the occurrence that he remembered nothing of what had occurred. He calmly stated that he had for some reason fainted and then simply awoke at his desk; only then to observe first, that for some reason the paint had been scorched from the walls of his workplace and that the discernable odor, of ozone, then permeated the air. Moreover, he expressly voiced how he was particularly impressed that all objects comprised of either plastic or glass had inexplicably lost their cohesiveness and had melted. Likewise, the integral portions of other objects containing portions of both were also disrupted or reduced. The only item of consquence not affected was his favorite working mobile of the solar system. Strangely, it alone remained unscathed.
"These observations are not in doubt; nor subject to conjecture, the fact, that except for the singed hairs about his face and extremities, he was physically unharmed. However, later, in private, he immediately, recanted the majority of his account by flately stating, "If I had told that," (the story he has related to you) "...to all concerned, unquestionably, I would have been committed." I readily concurred but remained silent.
"I will preclude my short aside to you by also noting that the various investigative agencies maintained within the Marshal Flight Space Center, conducted numerous studies involving the following: NAA (neutron evaluation analysis), OC/EC (thermal optical analysis), ICP-MS (inductively coupled plasma mass spectrometry), PIXE (proton induced x-ray emissions), TOA (thermal optical analysis), XAFS (x-ray absorption fine structure analysis), and XRF (x-ray florescence) analysis. The results of each exhaustive examination were conclusive. Their results were reconfirmed upon independent investigation. Specifically, it was determined that all items within his office and adjacent areas had been subjected to an e-field (electrostatic) or voltage field of immense magnitude as well as a substantial portion of the facility's roof situated directly above his office. Results of the analysis confirm the field wave had penetrated his office area after briefly skirting the roof above then descending to where it maintained its cohesiveness for a lengthy period.
"Ms. Aletheia, a typical lightning bolt contains on average 100 mega volts, (100 million volts) with a stroke interval of 20 to 30 nanoseconds. It emits light, radio waves, x-rays, gamma rays and heat approaching 28,000 kelvins. To offer you a comparison the temperature of the sun's surface in kelvins is 5799.15 or if preferred, 9980.0 in degrees Fahrenheit. To date, even the most advanced lasers can produce but a short burst of power, in time-scales measured only in femtoseconds: and that equal to but one petawatt of energy (ten to the 15th power). That a static charge of electricity comparable to that found in the order of 100 million volts, and then taken to the twelfth power and sustained as a constant and had penetrated his office is staggering. The sustained phenomenon penetrating the walls and hardened ceiling of fathers' office was in the range of what is termed a vigintillian. Ms. Aletheia, that is the number 1 followed by 84 zeros. For your information, I would note that, the consumption of power in the U.S. on a daily basis is 13.5 TW and for the entire world, it is closer to 15. A terawatt year is one trillion of 10 to the 12th power.
"To have experienced such a phenomenon and to have lived through it is incredulous, yet, there is also the matter of a business card which father had in his possession. Perhaps I should qualify my statement; he had a portion of what remained of it: specifically, a barely legible and apparently incompleted phone number. He maintained he had no memory of it; yet, what was left of it was found in the vest pocket of his dress shirt. Even so, for some reason, I soon learned that he had committed the partially scripted number to memory.
"At the time, it was categorized as an irrelevant and iconclusive article of record, which after analysis, was confiscated. Upon further investigation, it was determined that the partial number did not match any number in father's directory or with anyone else's within the facility. Subsequently, and over a period of weeks, repeated attemts to complete the sequence and connect the call, had failed. The failure to connect was further researched and simple to explain. No such number in any combination existed. When father was informed of this, he merely smiled; then, in the presence of others, repeately touched the first finger of his right hand to the side of his head and stated, "Patience, after all, it is only a matter of time."
"Soon after, at home and in bed, father asked that I place a phone call in his behalf. Immediately I sought to do so and reached for the phone, but he laughed and waved his hand about to dismiss my action while telling me to stop, stating that I had misunderstood his "immediate intent." He continued laughing and said that the phone call was to be, "Made later, much later." He then provided me with both a previously attempted number, accompanied by an additional prefix and a date upon which to call...thirty-one years from now.
"For many years, he had always desired to remain, a private and most independent man, but now finds himself in need. Again, I concur. For some time I have understood that, he needs help, and now asks that I do so. Shall I refuse? To what end would that serve, as the act he requests is in itself of little significance. Therefore, I have agreed to "humor" him and relay faithfully what he will dictate shortly at a future date. Moreover, he requests that I use a voice recorder, as he is quite adamant that I insure that each spoken word is accurately transcribed and that I not rely upon memory as, "It has a manner of altering." When I inquired as to what it would alter, he smiled and replied, "Almost everything."
"Passionately, he claims it necessary and repeatedly whispers, "For if you would fail, not only he, but all others will be lost to us all forever." For some time I thought he spoke those words to me: that I would fail him. Obviously, I thought he had lost touch with reality. Yet, it is his request and I will do so. I would again pose the rhetorical question of, "If I did not, what have I to lose?" I will wait patiently and do so. After all, what have I to lose? End notation."
Mother halts her narrative as tiny beads of perspiration begin to form on her face and arms. Once again, she places what she has read aside; stares briefly at the next page; then, haltingly continues.
"To: Mrs. J. A. Markison....today's date is...March 7, 2008. It is, from my last written note, roughly thirty-one years later. I am now much older and wiser. Today, after a most profound phone call, I strangely find myself looking back on what I had written and silently apologize to my father. I am now convinced otherwise. I had promised to relay his every word and will do so; my uncalled for intrusion shall cease and I shall recount the following transcript as it then transpired.
"Thank you for your time and indulging what I now perceive as having been my father's last remaining constant and unvoiced obsession: you. After considering his every word I share his belief that: "...if you would fail, not only he, but all others will be lost to us all forever."
Once you have read his account, I will wait patiently. I respectfully ask that you not fail us...Peter."
"Begin recording...the date is May 5, 1977. Dad? Are you awake? Dad?...are you..."
"Peter? Is it you? You are still...here? Then...you...we...remain a certainty? I am...
-
"...pleased."
"Dad, I'm sorry to wake you but the only thing I'm certain of is that it's time for you to take your medicine...here I.."
"Peter, stop, I must remain lucid. As for my medications...they can wait. Besides, they are numbing and cause me to sleep like a dead man; soon enough for that. I see then...you're ready. That is all very good...yes...very good indeed. Now please, bring me the last of what I had written...ahh...thank you...now...let me see...where was I..."
"Father please you must..."
"I must? I must? I must what? I...must do what is necessary. What ...you must do...is listen. Besides, what you must give me...is now of little consequence...the result, in the end, remains the same. At the moment make me happy...and if only on this matter...don't be such a bother...so...please...not another word? Well? Shall we begin? Are you recording? If so...very good. Now...where was I..ahh yes...I remember...I remember that I was seated...at that table, yes...I was...just thinking...of how grand the moment...when I heard her speak to me. "Werhner," she said. She has a soft voice you know, that is...once you get to know her. But...I was just thinking...where was I?
"Oh yes...she interrupted my thoughtful revelry with her words of, "Werhner, before it is time for you to leave," that is in part what she said. Can you imagine that? It was time for me to leave? No, no, no. Straight away, I thought not. This was no time to leave; for me, so little time remained. After all, I had just arrived. Instead, I shook my head from side to side. I thought to refuse her entreat. However, I knew better...especially considering her eyes...yes...particulary hers...after all...from experience...I knew them well.
"What more I knew, upon hearing her voice, was that the maelstrom of sound had returned and again and ever so faintly, I perceived myself as the object of its intent. Ohhh yes...I knew it was coming for me yet another time; for it now had marked me by name and I would not escape it. None-the-less...as if mindful...it did not draw closer...instead, it remained at a distance, as in some manner, reserved, laying in wait. The shrill echo of its voice carried upon the wind called to me...virtually humming and ever so tenacious in its desire for my return to its prickly embrace. It would take me yet again...but...to where? Where was I to go? After all, even she had acknowledged that I had, "...come so far in such a short period of time." Then she had to go and spoil everything by speaking those words, "...before it is time for you to leave," she said, "...before it is time for you to leave." Peter...in all honesty...I did not want to. As I looked up, I saw her smile, perhaps in understanding, while softly nodding at the old man, who now wished to remain.
"Now, where was I? Ah yes, at the time I was content, merely thinking...thinking of that which was nearby...ah yes...it was waiting for me while still another was now close at hand. Ohh Peter, how unfortunate...I see the look on your face...with my words...now you think I am insane. Of course, additionally you think I am paranoid. No, not yet. Hah, hah, hah, but under the circ-umstance it is understandable...however, please; I must not be dissuaded by your petulant scowl. Now, where was I? Ahh yes, was I...thinking...about leaving? No. Not at all.
"But you do realize Peter, that I will be leaving shortly...no...no need to answer...of course you do...it is a rhetorical question...as the concern in your eyes is evident. Why would it be otherwise? Now, where was I, oh...oh yes, I thought I did not want to leave...after all...why would I desire to do so? After so many years, I had arrived in time to fulfill in part my obligation and further consider the...promises: of what could have been, of self-doubt and of remorse...if not outright self-recrimination. How could I leave while forever confined, remaining within the shadows of the promised and of the unknown? I was now so close to the truth. Leave? To what end? Leave? No...how could I leave...not now...not then...not without knowing the answer. I desired to know, but more so, I most wanted to remain...but...where was I?
"How absurd the thought. More accurately Peter, I was shortly to realize, it was then, to me, never more a matter of where I was but rather a question of...when. I will explain...but before I do so...pass me my water if you please...ah ahh, yes, that's better...now where was I? Oh yes, where was I...you must listen carefully...I was here in time or more accurately, I was there as promised...just in time. After all...where else could I be? You will understand...in time. Forgive my mild attempt at humor.
"However, you must consider first that...she asked me to leave but further inquired if I had also deliberated upon her yet unanswered and gentle seque to which I believed I knew the answer. I supposed the answer Peter was obvious to me...for I was now an older man...who had become a man of science...who understood that the pen was a...no...it was not simply an.."a"...it was insistently...if not enchantingly... "The"...answer: metaphorically speaking that is. The man of science began to speak but instead the anxious man within spoke instead. I thought little of formality and summarily thought to address her by name and did so. "Athena," I said, "Sometime ago I looked into the eyes of a child and saw myself. No...allow me...that is incorrect...he permitted me to see myself for what I was or should become or would become or could become...if only...if only. "If." It is such...a...small word...in a world comprised of immense ambiguities and of even greater unknown connotations. In reality, if, any or all of what I had seen was in fact a credible certainty, if, afforded the opportunity, which of the promised alternatives would I have become, moreover, which in particular, would I remember: if any?" She did not reply allowing me to continue. I resolved, without qualm, to my satisfation: the course upon which I had embarked. The brief glimmer of her slight smile met my eyes as I looked up.
"Quickly and self-consciously, I looked down at the table again and reflected that if the pen was the answer, was it truly the "source" of my inspiration? Silently I pondered, did I accurately comprehend her prodding metaphor, that "...the source was close at hand." Oddly, it then occurred to me she was not referring to the tangible of which I had once held. Peter, without more ado I understood the pen was not the source; it could not be, the basis of my inspiration: as it was but an article of intention, an extraordinary portion of what was formerly one unique and inimitable entity. To the contrary, she had purposely employed the simile to convey the obvious; that the "source" of which all springs to life and which emanate from is birth. Therfore, the inescapability of the metaphor's connotation was understandable; the conceivable source, as a requisite of necessity, would be feminine in nature.
"Upon that conclusion, she spoke however softly. "How marvelous, you have attained level four. There are but two remaining. Dear Werhner, place yourself at ease and proceed at your leisure; as there is ample time for the resolution of both." So calmed, I smiled, again becoming the ever-exicted and expectant child on Christmas morning. Especially, the one who is constantly mindful of the moment's magic and still rushes to open presents or empty a stocking, which is hung; yet attentive to those who may, with care, watch over him. Have I told you...she has a most gentle voice..that is...once you get to know her? However, it is best to avoid her eyes if she is irritated.
"I considered then, if, she spoke in riddles and metaphors why not indulge the manifest thought and continue the process. I would pander to the obvious, as it was apparent; she spoke in present and future tenses simultaneously. You must appreciate, I knew, that for some reason, she, though not specifically, had employed my past thoughts and feelings to cajole me: to charm from me a desired response. But why now should I be compelled to reminisce?
"Yet I did, remembering when I was young, that I once held upon my lap, the various drawings and sketches, which in their uniqueness became the unparalleled motivation of which spurred me. Most certainly, in those darkening days, they were then among my most precious, if not the fondest and brightest of my memories. However, the works were not mine; instead, they were the work of a child who appeared possessed, with visions of timely certanty. Those, at one time, long-ago, were my very thoughts. Accordingly, it was then I understood that my alluded to "inspiration" was an inherent function of time itself. Do you understand the implications?
"For if, the pen or drawings of which I once held in my hands then, or of whom I had sat in the presence of in some manner or form was the genesis of the souce; then, even obliquely, she would have acknowledged it as such. Yet she made neither specific mention nor inference to that effect. Yet, for some reason, she unreservedly sheilded the child who had tendered them. I had yet to reconcile the obvious instead surmising that neither the pen, nor the mother of the child nor the child himself was the source. I concluded instead, each, in some manner, were subject to its particular influence. At least for the moment that was my judicious presumption.
"Therefore, again, it was logical to conclude, by her proffered insinuation that the source did not refer to the tangible that lay upon the table before me and the event she had alluded to was one which remained in the offing and therefore, in reality, had yet to occur.
"I believed it was at that moment I correctly perceived her intimation; that time itself was a function of proximity and the specific moment of its velocity. That, the closer the source moved to the objective, me, the time remaining to the intersection of the two, would diminish. I concluded in turn that it waited for either me or me for it. The reality, the consequence, would come to fruition if the two were either coincidental or consequential and predicated upon contact: of some type, however slight; though subject to the reality of their proximity, regardless of form. In essence, in coincidence, a physical meeting, the tangibility of an object, is not a function as to the state of its composition but rather as to the certainty of the specific moment it occupies in space-time itself.
"Yet if I were the objective, I was not inert, at least not yet. I believed I still moved, however slowly, and spoke. I still existed and thought until I ceased. I was neither vapor nor inorganic. Of course, I understood that if an object exists in some form, even though calculated as inert, there is motion; which when calculated is the moment of velocity in the space it occupies as measured in relation to time of incidence.
"Peter, in school, you were taught that we view everything in three dimensions: length (or distance), width (it's own in relation to or from an object) and height (its or another's elevation from a set point). However, seldom do we consider the one to which we are all subject to but do not view, the intangible reference, by which we measure a beginning, a moment of, or of an end.
"All this I considered, while I sat, captivated, continually staring at the pen, contemplating, that for some reason the pen had always been of consequence, having been ordained as a timely gift. And now that same pen lay upon the table before me and for some purpose, it had become the keystone, the necessary piece upon which events would turn; a promise of a gift to which I had obligated myself to deliver. But to whom and why? Never-the-less, it was consistent to assume by extension, that it and I, along with whatever or whoever else, which now approached had moved in time as well though not at the same velocity or distance. The secret would lie somewhere within the intangibility of time itself: the fourth dimension.
"Yet, the questionable conclusion further vexed me. Because, as velocity may vary, so to will the measure by which we gauge time, as there is neither a constant nor universal time. Of course, Peter, time, as a rule, normally moves in one direction, forward; but you must listen carefully, and, as a...standard rule...it is a given. However, somtimes, rules are simply broken or ignored. Remember, that in school, the rule you had learned is, that a clock on top of a mountain will record time as running faster than one at sea level; and, that the faster an object moves the slower time runs, until at the speed of light dilation occurs: time stops. But remember as well, that even a boulder, seemingly motionless, also moves in time.
"From one day to the next, week-to-week, year to year: it travels. However, we see only three of the dimensions it moves in. Its length, width and depth, to us, are readily observable but only on a fragmented and daily basis. Yet, the measure by which we reference everything is not. We perceive the patchy yet observable reality and accept it. The continuously intangible is also accepted but never seen. Yet, the intangible rule is the measure of our longevity and the gauge of our conventional and perceived existence.
"In turn therefore, I accepted that: I most certainly existed, the legendary sword existed, the mated pens existed, and the young woman, Aeron existed. Moreover, now across the table the ageless spirit that I presumed once as myth also sat as well, therefore, she existed; moreover, and obviously, she too played a significant role, which in some manner, somehow, connected to the most recent event, that began with the spoken words to me of, "Werhner, your timely voyage is at hand." The tangible and intangible had met and I...
"I then paused and smiled to consider that at that moment Peter, that I understood the look on Aeron's face and reason for her cryptic smile. She had prompted me to remember a promise held; that as a gift for a gift, the child I spoke of, would afford me an opportunity, though delayed, to journey and escape as well, if only momentarily, if, I so desired; Peter, in each instance, I expectantly and most willingly desired.
"In a brief moment, I had all but completed my obligation and mused that I had escaped what bound me and had moved forward: becoming a timely bearer of a solitary gift. I understood why the spirit cajoled my reminiscenses. She did so as but a prelude to explain the extent of my voyage. In retrospect, though delayed, it eventually proved to be an exceptional and most illuminating crossing. You must read the first of my letters to appreciate, why I now particularly relish the moment as I dwell in the reality of my escape.
"Hah, hah, ah ahhh. Forgive me; it is a most delightful memory, which I wouldn't have missed for the .....what? Ohh, there you go again...the look on your face...how wonderful! Peter, you neither have grasped nor appreciate the humor. Aeron's words were...well...timed. Ho, ho, ho, ho. Very funny...berry funny indeed. Though I must confess, that is not exactly how I reflected upon those words at that particular moment: no, just the opposite. Besides, for some reason, in retrospect, I am now inclined to surmise that in reality she takes herself quite seriously while maintaining a decided, if not slightly mischievous, proclivity for the dramatic.
"In any event, no sooner the thought, again the enduring spirit wheedled my ego with her words of, "Truly creditable, you have achieved the fifth level. As a learned man, however, you are still in need: of an answer, of an explanaton and of a passageway by which to return. Therefore, to resolve the enigma and advance you must explicate the confines of the esoteric to return."
"Peter, I must admit...as I shook my head my jaw fell in disbelief. I sat wide-eyed and certainly perplexed; and mused myself playing a game of echelons in that each progressive step in the offset formation, inevitably had led me closer to the point of the hunter in pursuit of the ever elusive. Had I come this far to be quizzed by yet another and seeming now tortuous riddle within a riddle? I sat for several moments and if not for her additional thought to me of, "Take heart...I will assist," I would have been reduced to...
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"...a most wary man. For as a young man I had suspiciously viewed life as nothing more than but a game of chance; and in turn surmised the events I had encountered either as fortuitous incidents; or, of unfortunate and untimely-disconnected circ-umstances. Which in course left me to ponder the obvious: on the one hand, if not for this, would I have done that, or, if, only I had chosen differently: of how things would have been different. If, only I had done otherwise or had the will, the good fortune, to have been warned of the consequences, or, to have not chosen at all; how would all have changed, if, at all? However, during the course of the intervening years, for some reason, I had resolved otherwise; that somehow I was in error. That those events appeared timely, if not somehow, discreetly orchestrated, to facilitate in some manner the subtle product of another.
"Peter, I must admit, as I nervously sat opposite the imposing specter that at that same instant, yet another most odd thought occurred; was I a child, circ-umspectly led by the hand, as in an assessment, to resolve each? Moreover, was the choice made in each mine: had each been ordained? I looked fleetingly to her face for some measure of response but in turn not even the slightest of smiles nor change of expression appeared. I presumed her wordless and stoic appearance was in and of itself an unspoken declaration.
"Yet again, my last thought prompted her reply," "Werhner, lastingly, to your mind I shall entrust my words as it is essential that upon your timely return you further consider my every thought. Despite the selection, as it is with all decisions, the event, in the end, in some form, is altered; yet the choices have not been fated, inevitably, each has always been yours. However, in the inescapable moment of resolution, regardless of the paradigm, all dimensional probabilities occur, yet only one, in time, is fortuitously recognized and so enacted. Nonetheless, the various realities vie to exist, but are doomed to wander amongst themselves devoid of purpose. There, within the expanse of time, ages pass and each in turn, is predictably forgotten. So enc-umbered within the stillness, they wait: in the blackness of endless space, cold, alone, forsaken, the unspoken and uncared for clamor in vain for their realization, to the princely overlord of time: until, in utter misery, each will knowingly yield itself to the oncoming void; oblivion. Then as is if upon a whim, rendered. Thus consigned, his authority consumes them without requiem and as fleeting memories devoid of spirit, they are lost to us evermore. It is the essence of nature Werhner, and in some measure, the nature of the source, of which I once was and of which has now moved you these many years. In part, I have explained yet I have promised to assist and will do so.
"You are a learned man, so special. Why is it now that you have not considered in your musings that, regardless of time, more than one item, regardless of state or condition, may coincide with another; but yet, at that specific instant, that only the least salient may be observed in that compatible moment? The other, although unobservable, is nonetheless present: as it too, exists, but even more so, consider that it may not be discordant; but instead, ingeniously harmonious, and through time itself, governing.
"I would task you, as a man of science to consider, is an identical shadow cast on any given day less evident than the other. Is it not a product of the tangible? Therefore, is it not evident; thus meriting acknowledgement, if not consideration, that it is too a creation of another, that it also inescapably, exists? When you gaze to the nightly stars, as a learned man of science, you accurately discern that the moment viewed has long since past; but only at that instant do you perceive what your eyes behold. You astutely grasp the concept that the light you view is millions of your years in age and only then, at that moment, are you able to asses it. You have seen the light of the past as it existed. Yet if one may accurately view and then asses the light of the past are you consequently unable to perceive the reverse? Consider what you have assessed previously. You astutely acknowledged it as such and so deemed it a singularity, in essence, "the variant of a primal one;" however slightly misconstrued, and so concluded to another with but the single word, "beset," as a misnomer. Why are you now so constrained? Please, it is merely a rhetorical question, to which the answer is evident.
"Dear Werhner, allow yourself, then reconsider an instant past when unwittingly, you had partially answered the question yourself, several times over and yet again only moments ago. It is the same thought at different times. Despite the slight differentials, "they are equivalent and impossible to tell apart." "The axiom to me is a truism." "I think therefore I am." Is one thought less a coincidence in time than the other? Is my presence here, happenstance? No, it is as purposeful and as necessary as is yours.
"Take heed Werhner, for now, even to you, a learned man, must and will understand the totality of your thoughts: "Ergo -cognate sum," that even I, Athena, by your own admission, a darkened shadow of the past, exist. The conundrum has been evident, disbelief: as I too am now but an inspired portion of what has spurred you. For too many, recurring doubt, is for the greater part, more influential than are the forgotten, unspoken, memories of time and the consequences contained therein are ominously manifest.
"Still, despite your, frailty, you remain perceptive, and are now singularly priviledged, to ascend beyond the fifth. How infrequent the realization that the reality of existence is established from those unlimited possibilities that in each unique choice afforded, yields distinctively to but one in time. Therefore, it is not coincidental that at this moment you are so judged and singularly favored.
"Nor is it coincidence that both the source of your inspiration, as is mine, is in part, nearby and the authority, which has moved you as I, both, approach. For to you, the source is one whose face you had in the past lightly engaged: but now, in part, bears my name, truthfully. Grasp as well that over the ages, as recompense, that she too, has become a perpetual wanderer: so hollowed and desperate in spirit, that now, even eternity expectantly awaits her fate, as I. Sadly, she exists, alone and in need, an embodied shadow: a primal recollection, the amalgamation of ages past, hers, yours, as well as mine. And that to her, in the forthcoming instant of an unspoken vow would hold the promise of tomorrow's future, not only hers, but all others, as well as mine; yet only if grasped for the moment.
"Moreover, the inspiration, which seeks her, an image, the genisis born of my own conception, is that perfection which has moved you through these many days. Beware, he is no less than I once was and is in dire need of more...especially of compassion. Take care Werhner therein lays the greater secret; that upon a precipitate thought...all, in existence would change, as it has so often in the past and thereby in turn the loss would be to us all: forever condemned to the eternal blackness of time; fated to linger, unseen, loveless and ceaselessly in need.
"But you too are now a needful man; first of our amicable parting and then of safely returning these half score years you have so far traveled. At long last, my eyes, which you have studiously avoided, permit me to reflect upon the learned man, with words from one more eloquent than I, that man, gently beholds, "The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals-and yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?"* Is it the paradigm of man? Listen closely for the answer, Werhner; there is no higher accolade as it resonates from on High. The Gallery of the Gods as I applaud you, a mortal man, alone, the purest of the fifth element, in its essence, the final extract from dust of which all things by His hands are compounded."
She paused for a moment and then continued." "The look upon your face is evident, you beam at my thoughts. However, I ask you, solemnly appreciate the moment at hand, the reflection of another, that sadly, for ages, that I too have wanted and that, "Man delights not me-nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so."
"Now, the hole of time, in its entirety, waits, but only for you, as incredibly the hours hang suspended for you to return the half score
years you have journeyed. To do so you must step willingly into its portal. In that instant, upon your arrival, look to the perpetual wanderer's gift, the globes, which I, upon first request, had secured and consider how far you have been singularly conveyed and honored. For in that sliver of time, the authority, which has moved you, as I, matures.
"Man, of science, consider, in that moment, that to him, one second is as thirty two million years to others.^ Then with sympathy smile in understanding that, I, once a prisoner, cast of my own contrivance, shall at last be free and content: for even angels or would be gods are not unfettered. They too are bound: and sometimes, even as idols, fall, some from immeasurable heights, farther than others. Yet, the remainder, for all their worth, are equally naught without belief. Now Werhner, consider that these next, among my last words to you, are for another's ears and as such must be accurately conveyed for though I now...exist...I cannot escape the depth of my imperfection...the reality...that at last...I too now mourn."
"Peter, listen closely, you must understand; that I am neither mad nor impaired and I must pause for the moment to consider the importance attached to her words, of, "...if you would fail...not only you, but all others will be lost to us forever," which were spoken with such sincerity...as if...she believed the world itself, depended upon them. But emphatically more so, it was the look in her eyes, which accompanied her additional words of, "All this, I long ago had seen: belatedly. My little one, hear my plea, forgive me?" which misted as water sprayed upon the red embers of a burning fire. Peter, I understood completely the depth of her insinuation: it was of complete remorse for some unspoken act. I pondered the outlandish thought that, if, angels did exist, why no tears fell?
"Immediately her reply to my unvoiced consideration was," "Werhner, even to angels in penitence there are many forms of contrition. Until so judged in time, it is the unvarying reminder, that as some promises, the depth of my tears, as their well, will remain empty and are of no consequence; moreover, that none others will suffice, not even my own. Paradigm of man, though I exist, I still lack and will remain so; until...
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*Shakespear, Hamlet
^The equivalent of a femtosecond.
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“…so graced by the gentle touch of a mortal hand. Why is it that among mortals that only you distinguish that my eyes betray me; and that for many reasons, especially those unspoken, that I am still more feared than loved? And of all the waters combined, that would slake their fire, only a precious few, distilled in life, shall be of consequence?
“Shall you judge that I too, as a solitary child, wait, and want for the magic that could be found in a moment: ever believing that I too may, if only once in time, be held likewise in affection by a little one? Admittedly, I anticipate an innocent and willing soft caress upon my unapproachable face that would readily move me, and in turn, warm my stone cold heart.
“Truthfully, I would reply, that in time, so longing, I would finally gaze upon his beauty and gratefully cradle him as my own. It is on a promise, yet unfulfilled, that destiny waits us all. Regretfully, with each reflected moment it is also the reminder that in Heaven the first among many still remains among the last; wanting fulfillment.
“Conceivably, it is also the reminder Werhner, that it is time for you to leave…and as you must travel the road back, look to that path, and then dispel your many doubts; they are unbecoming. You must…now leave…they…are here.”
“Leave, just like that, she said she wanted me to up and leave but wait, where was I? Oh yes, I was…just thinking about leaving…perhaps more so now than ever. However, I see that questionable look on your face, again. You doubt me…with each event I have conveyed; in addition, you manifestly pity me and silently if not disdainfully think me, feeble of mind. Peter, take care that you are not dismissive of what you consider my delusions. Perhaps…I shall conclude in summary fashion but caution you that there is a greater and implicit secret, of which you are obviously unaware as apparently, you too are now a wary young man; more the pity for you…if not for us all.
“For the moment, so be it….but what is the harm to humor me…dignify the moment and after I leave, if you will, after I die…read all of what I have written then consider that when that inevitable moment occurs and you remove my personal effects from my office, that you take special care to note my mobile. It is a perfect piece of work but to the casual observer it merely contains the mundane of the current; including the several man made satellites, which have long keyed my personal interest. Of course, I spurred the notion by subtly naming them.
"Why would I ask this?
“Über Peter… darin legt das Geheimnis und Sie müssen seine Bedeutung verstehen…, daß sie mir als Geschenk… 1936…, das vierzig Jahren vor an der Olympiade XI ist, bloße Stunden vor der Eröffnungs ankunft des einsamen Läufers dargestellt wurde, der beleuchtete Fackel, in den Stadium trug. (Peter…therein lays the secret and you must understand its significance…that it was presented to me as a gift… in 1936...that is over forty years ago at the XI Olympiad, mere hours prior to the inaugural arrival of the lone runner, who carried a lit torch, into the stadium). Wie erstaunlich, das I, jetzt bettlässig, nach der äußerteironie reflektieren: die Darstellung vom reinsten des Lichtes, das Herz der Schwärzung, als die bestellte vom Schwärzesten der Männer in Bestehen bis dahin eintragend: das Fuhrer selbst. (How astonishing that I, now bedridden, reflect upon the utter irony: the representation of the purest of light, entering the heart of darkness, as ordered by then one of the blackest of men in existence: the Fuhrer himself).
Auf jeden Fall, weiter erwägen Sie die angenommene übereinstimmung, die gerade vor diesem Fall, die Mutter des angespornten Kindes I wußte einmal; daß, beim Erwarten meiner Ankunft behauptet, sie geschah , der Boden neben dem Kasernel zu gehen: * und, angetroffen einer ziemlich eindrucksvollen Frau, die, einschließlich ihren Sturzhelm war, garbed völlig im Rot (In any event, further ponder the supposed coincidence, that just prior to this event, the mother of the inspired child I once knew; claimed that while awaiting my arrival she happened to walk the grounds adjacent to the Kasernel:* and there, encountered a quite impressive woman who, including her helmet was entirely garbed in red). Anscheinend und ohne Fanfare, hatte sie seine gesicherten Gatter herausgenommen und sofort anfing, sich ihr zu nähern (Ostensibly and without fanfare, she had exited its secured gates and immediately began to approach her).”
“Peter, some water please…hahh…good…are we still recording? Good. Where was I?
“Oh yes, now I remember. Logically, at first sight she thought the woman to be a participant in the games as her manner of dress was decidedly reminiscent to the ancient warriors of the period to which the Fuhrer had sought to replicate. Rationally, she thought the woman, would simply continue onward, to move past her and on into the stadium, there to make her grand entry. She was soon to learn that was not entirely to be the case, that while the woman would indeed enter the stadium, it would entirely be for another reason.
"Ihr Geistessojourn unerwartet beendet wenn zahlreiches anderes ähnlich, obwohl völlig schwarze plattierte Formen, plötzlich erschienen, wenn Sie… einfach werden, scheinbar verwirklichend… aus von der dünnen Luft heraus (Her mental sojourn abruptly ended when numerous other similarly, though entirely black clad forms, suddenly appeared, if you will…simply materializing… seemingly from out of thin air). Von jeder möglichen Richtung, die sie unerwartet soundlessly sie kamen, bildete Rank und grenzte warily die nähernde Frau an; ein ungefähr Third zu jeder Seite, mit dem Rest vigilantly nach Klage ( From every possible direction they came, abruptly, soundlessly, they formed ranks and warily flanked the approaching woman; approximately a third to either side, with the remainder vigilantly following suit).
"Sie merkte, daß die schwarzen stahlhelms, die sie trugen, war besonders ungewöhnlich in der, während jede schien, in hohem Grade poliert zu werden, das in der frühen Morgensonne, nicht, man reflektierte einen einzelnen Strahl des Tageslichtes. (She noted that the black stahlhelms they wore were particularly unusual in that while each appeared to be highly polished, that in the early morning sun, not one reflected a single ray of sunlight). Ominöser, diese jede Sturzhelmausbohrung ein undurchdringliches, zum der schwarzen glasslike Frontplatte anzuvisieren (More ominously, that each helmet bore an impenetrable to sight black glasslike faceplate). Was mehr ist, während jedes vollständig das Trägergesicht von der Ansicht undeutlich machte, wenn Sie durch die Morgensonnen angeschlagen werden, beleuchten Sie, das verschwundene Tageslicht und war nach ihnen verloren. (What is more, while each completely obscured the wearers face from view, when struck by the morning suns light, the sunlight vanished and was lost upon them). Nr. das ist… das Licht verschwand nicht… sie schwört falsch, daß das Licht innen gezogen wurde. (No, that is incorrect…the light did not vanish…she swears that the light was pulled in).
Faszinierend war es mit einer bestimmten Richtung der Vorahnung, der Freida dann die Frau und ihre Kohorten Geheime Staatspolizei nachprüfte und dachte (Intriguingly, it was with a certain sense of foreboding that she then reconsidered and thought the woman and her cohorts Geheime Staatspolizei).
“The reason Peter was simple, it was because as the formidable woman approached, she called to her by name. She…how impersonal…all these years I have not spoken her name…partially out of fear, but most, out of regret. You must realize it is with a promise, that I turned her against me. She…Freida…was not impersonal…just the opposite; she wearily trusted and in turn … lost much.
“In any event, later that morning, along with her son, we met, and she tearfully recounted her experience, claiming that as she turned to run the woman again called to her and forcefully ordered her to, “Halt.” Die, die sie schnell verbunden hatten, umgaben sie und wendeten sofort an Gesicht weg von den zwei; Störung anscheinend verhindern (Those who had joined her quickly surrounded her and immediately turned to face away from the two; ostensibly to prevent interference). Er war offensichtlich, dieses die, die auch der Nordabschnitt des olympischen Dorfs schritten, das sofort auf ihren vorher gewählten Weg gedreht wurde , um das Ereignis zu vermeiden; Rütteln ihrer Köpfe, wie sie an hinter gingen (It was evident, that those who also strode the North Section of the Olympic Village immediately turned on their previously chosen path to avoid the incident; shaking their heads as they walked on past).
As the cadre moved closer, the crimson mitra^ of the leader moved with ease was in no way enc-umbered by the well-defined and equally elaborate red cuirass she wore. It was likewise complemented by each of her perignemis, perimerides, peribraxionios, perixerdia and perisfyra. ^^
Without a word, the formidable woman who had called to her quickly came to stand before her and towered well above Freida’s own distinctive two meter height. Instinctively, she looked up and swears that through the faceplate, she could see the woman’s eyes emerge to burn red with rage as she looked only at her when she spoke, “Verstehen Sie das in der Spotterei des Momentes, wie die Fackel beleuchtete ist, Reaper von Seelen kommt an und von denen, die mich namentlich zusammenrufen würden, nur wenige entgehen, obwohl keine unscathed bleiben (Understand that in the moment’s mockery, as the torch is lit, the Reaper of Souls arrives and of those who would summon me by name, only few shall escape, though none shall remain unscathed). Dort über der abgenutzten Stelle, stehe ich auch an schauend; wie alle, die Sieg hageln, wie ihre Idole fallen; dann mit unfelt Note, sollen Sie I Markierung vom Schwergewicht der Toten, die sehr wenigen, die gehen wieder sollen (There, above the fray, I too shall stand looking on; as all who hail victory as their idols fall; then with unfelt touch, shall I mark from the preponderance of the dead, the very few, who shall walk again). Heute von denen, die wenigen gewählt werden, die Sie treffen, versöhnen weniger noch in der Zeit; als Muß wir (Today, of those chosen few whom you shall meet, fewer still shall in time reconcile; as must we).
The woman in red, stiffened, immediately lifted her right hand and snapped her fingers twice, whereupon, from behind the cordon, another, who held in his hands a parcel, at once stepped forward, and then literally placed it in her hands while speaking the following to her in French, “Madame, je te présente un cadeau unique comme marque de bonne volonté. Elle est pour votre bienfaiteur, à temps, toi car il comprendra (Madam, I present to you a unique gift as a token of good will. It is for your benefactor, in time, you as he will understand).”
“Peter, she claims that she merely gazed at the parcel but for a moment and then to her amazement, those who surrounded her, as well as the woman, had vanished. She found herself standing alone, holding the parcel and crying. Then, as others tittered while they walked past her, she read the accompanying meticulously, handwritten card…Peter…the parcel was specifically addressed to me. Shortly thereafter, hesitantly, she offered it to me, fearing that for some reason that I would be unhappy and offhandedly reject it. I assured her, regardless of its contents, that I was touched. How could I be otherwise? Admittedly, upon first sight…I was not displeased. How could I be? Why would I?
“In turn, I sought to reciprocate but she most graciously declined, preferring instead that I give her son, Joachem, something in her stead. Reluctantly, I relented, and hastily purchased from an itinerant vendor what I considered a marvelous carousel. To my delight, the boy, Joachem, was enamored with it.
At last, Peter, by the look on your face, I have intrigued you. However, there is more. Several of the horses, which when the carousel was engaged, moved up and down. On one in particular, a black one, appeared the slight engraving of the artisan’s last name who fashioned the mechanism. To my astonishment, years later, I learned that Joachem, for some unfathomable reason, had etched his initials in part over the artisan’s last name; thus in part obscuring it.
Now, Peter, listen closely, the name of the artisan who created the carousel is the same as that which is written on the card accompanying her gift to me. The authenticities of both the invaluable piece I had received and the card’s signature have both long since been verified as authentic; though the card has been locked away in my safe, here at home, for over twenty years. It is in a solitary brown packet. The packet also contains several, exceptional photographs which different cameras took that same day. When each roll was developed, I first thought each picture strangely marred but on closer inspection, in comparison, I noted the negatives of each. If you desire to look, they will reveal more. When I leave study them yourself then decide if I am delusional.
Nevertheless, as for the card, I will spare you the initial effort and reveal its contents. The first portion specifically reads, “Zu Werhner Maximillian: A Geschenk, von [[the]] Kinder von [[the]] Verengt” (To Werhner Maximillian: A Gift, from the Children of the Narrows).” Peter, I personally researched the artisan who upon request made the piece especially for me. His name is identical to that found on the carousel, which I supposedly so capriciously purchased. I would conclude Peter that you note the remainder of the cards inscription, so meticulously penned concludes with, “Mit Mein Besondere Ergänzungen, Monsieur Nicolas Bion (With My Specific Complements, Monsieur Nicolas Bion).” Peter… Bion; died over two hundred and forty six years ago.
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*Kasernal-the forbidden term of the barracks bordering the Olympics.
^mitra...a short skirt made for fighting
^^gnemis=knimis ....these are greaves or armored shin guards worn. perimerides...the armor which covers the thighs and quadriceps.
peribraxionios ...the armor which covers the forearms
perixerdia...the armor which encapsulates the shoulders down to elbow), perisfyra...specialty armr for the ankles.
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“Of course, the salient if not essential implication is obvious and eliminates the mere precognition of a child; specifically, that the information necessary to construct the piece originated from a point in future time and was in some manner relayed by another to an artisan; one well beyond the grave. Und jetzt ist der fragende Blick auf Ihrem Gesicht von mir, still verlangen „, wie ist er möglich?“ (And now the quizzical look on your face is silently demanding of me, “How is it possible)?” Meine Antwort ist, „annehmen ihn einfach gerad, weil sie ist. (My reply is forthright, simply accept it because it is).
“Andernfalls wie sonst würden Sie sie erklären? (Otherwise, how else would you explain it)? Sie können nicht. (You cannot.) Es besteht auch und dort nachweisbar hängt es verschoben in meinem Büro, damit alle zwar keine, außer Ihnen sehen und I, begreift die zutreffende Natur seines Ursprung: daß es eine außerordentliche Geschenk-, irgendwie buchstäblich umgearbeitete und gelieferteüberzeit ist (It too exists and there, verifiably, it hangs suspended in my office for all to see though none, except for you and I, comprehends the true nature of its origin: that it is an extraordinary gift, somehow literally fashioned and delivered over time).
“Understand, at first, that I had incorrectly equated it to the pen, yet as I have stated, I had partially reconciled the error of my logic. The pen itself was not unique as there were three: identically fashioned from a distinctive blade of war, now carried by an entity that too exists. However, as I sat, I was still mindful that the entire event still lacked a common denominator: the factor upon which all revolved.
“Auf jeden Fall war es dann, daß ich widerwillig bis zum Urlaub stieg (In any event, it was then that I grudgingly rose up to leave). Uberhaupt so zögernd im Moment, schaute ich noch einmal zu ihr, aber seine Zeit suchte, schließlich über ihren erschreckenden Augen hinaus zu blicken möglicherweise wenn nur während eines (Ever so hesitantly in the instant, I looked once more to her, but his time sought to at last peer beyond her frightening eyes, perhaps, if only for a moment, to the features of her face: thinking perchance to closer glean an understanding of her features; those that lay behind the lightning).
“Wieder, dachte mich ich ein Kind, das sich fand, hinunter das stairwell am Weihnachten zu stehlen, um einen Blick des verbotenen Momentes gefangenzunehmen (Again, I thought myself a child who found himself stealing down the stairwell at Christmas to capture a glimpse of the forbidden moment). Jedoch, anstelle vom elterlichen Vorwurf, war ich mit einem leichtesten Lächeln überrascht, und bemerkenswert, anstelle vom Feuer, strahlte sie Augen ein weiches aus und mildert, kommt-hither goldenes Licht (However, instead of parental reproach, I was surprised with a most gentle smile, and remarkably, instead of fire, her eyes emitted a soft and gentle, come-hither golden light). An diesem Moment wurde ich ein Kind, das den Komfort und den Trost einer Note suchte (At that moment, I became a child who sought the comfort and the solace of a touch). Scheinbar, blieb ich im flüchtigen Moment und würde meine Augen geschlossen haben und an der Mühelosigkeit im Trost geschlafen, während sie auch über mich aufpaßte (Seemingly, I dwelled in the fleeting moment and would have closed my eyes and slept at ease in solace while she too watched over me).
“Ausgenommen… außer daß für so viele Jahre, hatte ich mich mein Leben Wissenschaft gewidmet, stellte ich, daß der Abgrund zwischen uns offenkundig und… bedauernd nicht können war so tun fest. (Except...except that for so many years, I had devoted my life to science, I realized that the chasm between us was manifest and regretfully…failed to do so. Verständlich die Störung war meine, da der Golf von Menschlichkeitunantastbarkeit mich plötzlich tormented und wurde ängstlich von, was gelegt über meinem hinaus oder von unserem Common, Sterblichkeit (Understandably, the fault was mine, as the gulf of humanities intangibility suddenly tormented me, becoming fearful of what lay beyond my or of our common, mortality). Erklärte ich Ihnen Peter überhaupt, sie habe ein schönstes Lächeln; das ist, wenn Sie hinter ihr Augen schauen und sie nicht Sie erschrecken lassen? (Did I ever tell you Peter, she has a most beautiful smile; that is if you look past her eyes and do not allow them to frighten you)?
“Seien Sie, daß, wie es kann, es an diesem sehr Moment war, daß I gefunden irgendwie buchstäblich stehend außerhalb der Tür, die heraus an zur Straße schaut, beim innen starring Faszination an den zwei Formen äußern Sie, die Hand-in-Hand entlang die Schmutzschulter der Straße in Richtung zu mir gingen. (Be that as it may, it was at that very moment, that I found myself somehow literally standing outside the door looking out on to the street while starring in utter fascination at the two forms which walked hand in hand along the dirt shoulder of the road towards me). Da sie ihre Weise bildeten zu, der ich stand, starrte ich in betäubtem Erfassen an: die Gesichter einer auffallenden jungen Frau und gleichmäßig erkennen, wenn nicht so, schönes Kind, das die Weise führte (As they made their way to where I stood, I stared in stunned comprehension: recognizing the faces of both a striking young woman and of an equally, if not more so, beautiful child who led the way). Dort die frequentierenden Bilder von Freida und von Joachem näherten sich; jedoch vom zwei nur Freidas erheblich ausgesehen (There the haunting images of both Freida and Joachem approached; however, of the two only Freida’s appeared substantial). Sofort, wurde die Gleichung solvable und welche Furcht ich… verschwunden hielt. Die Quelle des Lebens… ging… aber nicht alleine. Die Inspiration der Vollendung… war nahe und zur Hand beide. Dennoch von den zwei, lebte nur man im Moment, während das andere fröhlich in das Sonne licht ging (Instantly, the equation became solvable and what fear I held…vanished. The source of life…walked…but not alone. The inspiration of accomplishment…was both close and at hand. Yet of the two, only one lived in the moment, while the other merrily walked through the suns light).
“Dad, excuse me, but why in the hell are you speaking in riddles to me now? Can’t you just get to the point? I mean…I mean…dammit you’re exasperating…sometimes. Look, why don’t we just stop for the day and I’ll give you your medicine. O.K? Dad? Dad?! Dad…please, how…”
“Temper temper…I will not take what you offer…nor can you make me, so there. As for my supposed riddle, if you had allowed me the courtesy to finish I would have explained. Well? Do you want me to explain or are you going to go and stand off in a huff and sulk? Well?”
“You know, sometimes dad you’re impossible.”
“Yes, at times, aren’t we all? In any event, as I was stating before I was so rudely interrupted by my son, whom I love, and would do anything for…and have…mostly…but why make you feel guilty about all that…especially now that I am...”
Dad! If you’re not trying to, you’re doing one hell’va job of it. O.K. O.K. have it your way, just stop grinning at me it’s spooky. I mean it just like you’ve seen a…a
“A Ghost? No, Peter, not a ghost: Her. She is here and waiting for me. Now hush there is little time left to me…so be patient…I am nearly at an end.
“Now where was I…yes…I remember before you interrupted me…the young woman whose name is in part Athena walked and most obviously cast a shadow. The child who accompanied her also walked in the suns light, yet he did not; the light passed directly through him. Of the two, only her shadow was discernible. Therefore, she lived in the moment while the child, though observable to the naked eye, was but an inspiration…ergo, he had yet to enter this world. There, are you satisfied?”
“Dad, whatever you say is…”
“Peter, my entire life I have not chased rabbits down a hole nor am I as mad as the proverbial hatter, yet you continually doubt me. Whereas my uncertainties have been dispelled, yours however are evident. Disconsolately I would ask you to ponder a reasonable question, that of a personal desire; Peter, you would not fail me, would you? No, do not answer the rhetorical question as I suspect the reply and the darker implications that would ensue.
Strange, that I should think of Freida, the mother of the child whom I also protected. She too was not prone to delusions nor was she a mindless dolt; though others thought otherwise. Regretfully, she too, as I, was acutely aware that she could not control the situation in which she found herself and that her son, much as you, had become a phenomenon of personal desire to which she was inextricably bound.
Now, as I look back, the rancor she exhibited when I presented to her several written desires, ostensibly presented to her as mine, by which she had blindly promised to adhere to, I consider reasonable, if not justifiably logical. However, at the time, I thought them puerile, if not subject to abject misunderstanding. Yet in reflection, I understand, that for a child in need, they were endearing, if not…
“Dad, please, now you’re wandering, is there any particular for..”
“For wandering…was I wandering…yes I was…but for how long…and perhaps…I was for a period of time…wasn’t I…and yes there is ample reason to stray. Peter, if I were to ask you to make a promise, would you do so, without knowing what it was; yet, keeping in mind that I would always hold you accountable and expect you to honor it, regardless of time, despite the consequences, whether I was alive or dead. Well now, would you?
“Mechanically you nod your head yes …but don’t answer… merely ponder the childish questions posed, which I shall set forth, ostensibly as desires, if you will, conditions or wants; if you will, specific obligations to be met and the first is relatively simple, “Would you promise to always love me more than anyone else? Your nod to me, of course, is understandable and between you and I, comforting, however, if it were a pledge, made to a stranger, would it be otherwise? Would you still hold fast to it and honor it? Would you, or more to the point, could you?
The second however, merits introspective consideration,” “If, I were someone else, would you promise to love me just as much and would you promise, cross your heart and hope to die, to never admit it to anyone else for as long as you lived? Obviously, it is a conditional question; yet it merits a certain degree of introspective analysis of each word specifically utilized in context. But beware; the thoughtful caveat to “you” bears a timely consideration.
The third, “Would you promise to still love me even after you were very angry with me?” entails a query of reasonable maturity and of understanding that grudges, hurt feelings, hate, resentment or love may linger over a period of time: perhaps, hours, days, weeks, if not years, and conceivably Peter, conceivably even transcending death itself. If such were the case, how would you fare? Vanquish die ewige Schwärzung der Antipathie das Licht der Neigung? (Would the eternal darkness of antipathy vanquish the light of affection)? Würden Sie genug stark sein aufzutauchen siegreich, oder würden Sie ausfallen? (Would you be strong enough to emerge victorious or would you fail)?
The existential implication of the next however presupposes the knowledge of continuation beyond death and is unconditionally explicit; although childishly concise yet to some extent encompasses the previous three, “From now on, will you always keep your promises to me, forever and ever, until the end of time? Ponder the question as a statement of fact and the logic becomes inescapable: that somehow life itself transcends the known physical boundaries and moves into the realm of the ethereal unknown.
Implicitly they are childish questions, yet, if agreed to unknowingly, are these vows less sacred than others made which are manifest; moreover, in time, if even one promise, albeit a nuance, is partially broken, is it irrelevant and of little consequence?
Peter, those are the requests I penned, desires if you will, expressly for this woman: each as spoken to me by a child whom I once sat in awe of. However, at the time, I could not accept the obvious of what I had heard; I chose instead a less taxing conclusion. It in part explains the secret that I have kept as well as the obvious answer to your conundrum.
Understand that long ago, in an all to brief a meeting in exchange for an unspecified object, which would pique my curiosity, I had promised Joachem that I too would keep a secret until the arrival of my death. The later now is at hand as is of no concern. Yet the secret kept was entirely paradoxical and unknown to my other associates at that time, in that I knew more than they did. Yet, for some reason I said nothing; that while he was indeed a most beautiful and prescient child, that he was not alone. He continually traveled and spoke with others and while initially I thought the child beset I was in inaccurate. Peter during that meeting four of the five requests were posed in the different voices of various children. But of the four voices only one throughout was governing; the others, upon consultation, acquiesced.
Moreover, I now presume the inspiration itself, in so many ways still a child, who has somehow adroitly orchestrated circ-umstances to suit his needs, and Joachem, to have been a necessary appendage, though of the two, the unknown yet governing inspiration, presents itself as the most intimidating if not wondrous. The question is then posed, “Why or how would I then conclude such?” I would plausibly reply that logic dictates the conclusion as one who is capable of moving matter if not time purposely posed each of the desires as a means to an end and has …
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...painstakingly affected it as such.”
"Moreover, that the desires themselves were a self-serving examination of devotion: not to me, but to a child of the future: himself. In effect, they were both a measure of then present and of assured future affection, not mine, anothers: her future progeny. In effect, structured tests of unqualified devotion, if not love itself, with a solitary goal to be met: to win her, forever. Alternatively, he would knowlingly suffer her loss for eternity. Remarkably, and unknown to her, the child was preparing himself for her and she for him. Peter, to the child, the fulcrum of time is balanced upon a choice: hers; yet the contest entered cannot be won by her. It is only her's to lose upon one wrong answer, be it however slight.
“Dad, wait a sec...are you trying to tell me that a kid is now pre-selecting his own mother and responsible for passing contemporary information on to some guy that’s been dead for over two hundred years and all of the other crap that you said’s happened? Really, you can’t be serious…look let’s just call it a night and maybe you can start over in the morning with a fresh deck. You honestly don't expect me to believe in time travel or ghosts and mythological beings that come to life and talk to you let alone one who’s standing around here now just waiting for you to kick off...crap dad! Really now …”
“No not now, at least that is what she states...Peter, for the moment, she is, in her words, really just “looking in” on me. Oh, she says to tell you, well, infers actually, that from the beginning life’s deck has not always been stacked. Apart from that, she says that my time is short. But as for the first portion of your diatribe you are mistaken, still it is fascinating that you have captured a salient nuance of her newest admonition to me in your petulant if not acerbic rebuke.
„Dennoch, gleichwohl fein die Abstufungen ich sich bemühen, Sie zu beheben, wie das offensichtliche für die die meisten Ihnen entgangen hat: in erster Linie bleibt das Kind nicht in dieser ära; er bleibt, selbst ein Kind der Zukunft, noch die unborn Inspiration von anderen in der Notwendigkeit in Aussicht. (Nevertheless, however fine the gradations I shall endeavor to correct you, as the obvious for the most has escaped you: first and foremost, the child does not dwell in this era; he remains in the offing, himself a child of the future, still the unborn inspiration of another in need). Zweitens die Informationen, die Sie erkennen, wie „das Bestehen“ in großem Umfang, sich zu seinem vollsten schon zu entwickeln hat; im wesentlichen bleibt bedeutende technologische Innovationen, daß Sie sind ahnungslos von (Secondly, the information you discern as “existing” in large measure has yet to develop to its fullest; in essence, there remains significant technological innovations that you are unaware of.)”
“Dad? Dad, what in the hell are you driving at now? I can’t believe that you’ve allowed yourself to fall off the deep end! Crap dad, you’re in worse shape now than you’ve ever been! I know your sick but …I can’t conceive that you’d allow yourself to be…”
“Peter, please…to be or not to be…is precisely the question and…conceivably…it is the crux of the matter. For years, the pieces of the puzzle have lain before me and the subtle key to their joining had eluded me. Now before you continue to reprove me I will explain. May I continue, or, will you clomp off in a snit?”
“Dad, really, I don’t need to sit here and be insulted!”
„Dann vielleicht, können Sie anderwohin gehen und mit mehr Erfolg beleidigt werden? (Then possibly, you can go elsewhere and be insulted with more success)? Persönlich scheint es, daß ich hier zurückbleiben muß; unterworfen Ihrem drivel. (For my part, it appears that I must linger here; subjected to your drivel). Selbstverständlich können Sie gehen…wenn nicht… bleiben Sie und sich zum Schweigen bringen Sie. (Of course, you may leave… if not…remain and silence yourself.)”
“No, of course not, I don’t have anywhere else to go and be insulted… I mean I’ll stay here and be insulted if that’s O.K with you. So, sure, tell me what I don’t know. Why not…after all what’ve I got to lose?”
“Peter… möglicherweise würden Sie alles… verlieren, daß das schreckliche ist, dennoch einfach Wahrheit unspoken. (Peter…conceivably you would lose everything …that is the horrible yet simple unspoken truth). Alles, das Sie beobachten oder nimmt wahr, oder das kann bestehen oder sollte sogar hoffen zu bestehen, ob von Ihrem Bilden oder eines anderen: Wille hören einfach auf zu sein und niemand sind das klügere noch erinnern sich. (Everything you observe, or will perceive or that may exist, or should even hope to exist, whether of your making or another’s: will simply cease to be and no one will be the wiser nor remember).
“In diesem Universum, ist es, als ob Sie oder ich nie oder jedermann sonst bestanden (In this universe, it will be as if you or I never existed or anyone else). Es ist eine atemberaubende Betrachtung, zum zu erwägen: besonders wenn alles nach einer impulsiven Laune verloren ist (It is a breathtaking consideration to ponder: especially, if all is lost upon an impulsive whim). Es ist zwingend, daß Sie verstehen; etwas, das geschehen ist, bevor ungefähr , wieder anzufangen ist und das nach einem Antrieb alles verschwinden würde (It is imperative that you understand; something that has happened before is about to begin again and that upon an impulse everything would vanish).
“Bitte nehmen Sie während des Momentes die Voraussetzung an; daß ein lokalisiertes Kind an der Wurzel der Angelegenheit ist (Please, accept for the moment the premise; that an isolated child is at the root of the matter). Nehmen auch, daß ein einmal mythologisches Wesen jetzt besteht, selbst jetzt ein Engel an, der mich erwartet: aber wer noch innen ist, wünschen Sie (Accept also that a once mythological entity now exists, herself now an incorporeal angel who awaits me: but who now is in earthly want). Gestehen Sie zu, das, das ich der Klinge mich angesehen und berührt habe, von der ich gerade vor kurzem von… gesprochen hatte, wie verzaubernd; dennoch noch, vermissend was es die meisten wünscht, ein rechtmäßiger Erbe (Concede, that I have both viewed and touched the sword of which I have just recently spoken of…as being enchanted; yet still missing what it most desires, a rightful inheritor). Jetzt da Sie ein erreichter Kursteilnehmer der Geschichte sind, entwickeln Sie den offensichtlichen Anschluß zwischen den drei (Now, as you are an accomplished student of history develop the obvious connection between the three.)”
“Dad, why should I? I mean it’s damn obvious. Anyone familiar with Homer knows the story. Athena was the goddess of wisdom, among other things, who gave her father a great headache…just like you’re giving me…sorry…just hadda do it. Anyhow, she busted outta his skull with all of his knowledge, fully armored and really, really torked at him for wanting to off her before she was born. So to make a long story short she got the dirty end of the stick and assisted in offing Hector. As for the sword, legend claims it was lost either on the battlefield or eventually passed on and somehow wound up being used by Charlemagne. As for the kid, you already said you observed a bond between what’s his name and a pen, which you claim, was fashioned from a portion the same sword. So if I had to guess the sword and the boy are somehow related. Well, am I close?”
“Bezogen? Warum, ja selbstverständlich sie in vielen Weisen bezogen werden; besonders durch Blut (Related? Why, yes of course they are related in many ways; especially, by blood). Ich bin erfreut an Ihrer Extrapolation, fortfahre (I am pleased at your extrapolation, continue.)”
“So the bigger question is what the hell is the relationship between the boy and your new found interest…Athena…who you claim is in the room and waiting for you. Dad…I hate to break this to you…but look around…there’s no one else in this room except for you and me and why the hell are you smiling up at me?”
„Peter zuerst lächele ich oben nicht an Ihnen, die ich an ihr lächele; sowie an Ihrem Mangel an Erfahrung, genau, Ihren Mangel am Verstehen (Peter, first, I am not smiling up at you I am smiling at her; as well as at your lack of experience, more precisely, your lack of understanding). Sollten Sie wissen, daß, wenn etwas nicht gesehen wird, es nicht bedeutet, daß es nicht besteht: surreptitiousness ist in den meisten Fällen nicht angekündigt (You should know, that if something is not seen it does not mean that it does not exist: surreptitiousness is for the most part unannounced). Glaube an das Unbekannte, unseen, ist auch allein ein unberührbarer Bruch des Lebens (Belief in the unknown, the unseen, is too, in and of itself, an intangible fraction of life).
“But, perhaps you are not up to the task and it would be better if a more experienced individual who is less inclined to emotionalism replace you? Of course, it is short notice. But as I now appear to be an imposition to you, perhaps….
“Dad…you’re impossible.”
„Ja haben wir das vorher bestätigt. (Yes we have acknowledged that previously). Now hush. Be a good boy, let me finish? The link you spoke of, between the pen and the boy is palpable as each individually shares a harmony with the other. After all, they are, as you have discerned related: by blood. Sie teilen auch eine Allgemeinheit; die Waffe ist zum Jungen, wie sie zum Vater war, der sie ausübte (They too share a commonality; the weapon is to the boy as it was to the father who wielded it). Ist es rechtmäßig seins; verstehen Sie meine Andeutung? (It is rightfully his; do you understand my intimation)?
“No way! You’re telling me that this kid Joachem is the heir, no, screw that…that he’s connected to Hector?”
“In part, yes. However, there are others. Moreover, each wordlessly acknowledges the other as similarly exclusive: each as identical living singularities that have only been separated by years.”
“Dad, that’s a load of gibberish. You’re talking about a kid…no… more than one kid…who is exceptionally unique but who also is hypothetically able to work through time and space?”
„Bin ich? Wenn so, sind Sie dann Sie andeutend, daß eine cognizant Eigenheit, unabhängig davon Alter, Raum und Zeit zusammendrücken kann, nicht nur unendlich verzerrt zu werden, aber wer auch Gruppen die Fähigkeit, die Umstände der Zeit selbst zu ändern? (Am I? If so, are you then you implying that a cognizant singularity, regardless of age, may compress space and time to become not only infinitely distorted, but also posses the ability to change the circ-umstances of time itself)? Sie brauchen, nicht dich zu betreffen, da Sie in der Annahme zu einer rhetorischen Frage korrekt sind (You need not concern yourself, as you are correct in the assumption to a rhetorical question).
„Ist es das Wesentliche von, was ich zuerst innerhalb der Confines meiner ersten paradoxen Sitzung betrachtet hatte: nach Eingang Athene und während die Phantomkinder der verschiedenen Maße bis eins anders sprachen, wurde das die Wahrheit ziemlich unschuldig offensichtlich; die identische übereinstimmung von wünschen für jedes nach links wenig zur Phantasie; an weniger Grube (It is the essence of what I had initially considered within the confines of my first paradoxical meeting: following Athena’s entrance and while the phantom children of diverse dimensions spoke to one another, that the truth quite innocently became evident; the identical consistency of want for each left little to the imagination; at least mine).
„Wie, dort faszinierend, das, in einem Wagen, I, der Selbst-proklamierte Mann der Wissenschaft hörte; er hörte die unberührbaren Versprechungen, die durch jedes zur anderen gebildet wurden, während sie besprochen wurden; während die Verpflichtungen, und die Konsequenzen dort von diesem getroffen zu werden folgen würden, waren auch dutifully betrachtet und ausgeglichen, als erkanntes jedes die entscheidenden Kosten des Ausfalls (How fascinating, that there, in a carriage, I, the self-proclaimed man of science…listened; hearing the intangible promises made by each to the other as they were discussed; while the obligations to be met and the consequences there from that would ensue, were also dutifully considered and counterbalanced, as each recognized the ultimate cost of failure).
"The primary issue voiced by each, within their spectral debate, focused upon one resounding note; the emptiness of the life each had found: that instead of warmth, there was but cold and to each, in place of understanding, there was contempt; however, more importantly, that the waking childhood dreams of each were without fulfillment. Instead, the dreams themselves had become a frightful party to the forthcoming emptiness that sought to consume them.
“Moreover, that each wore not only the many misfortunes of his own existence, as one would a winter coat, but had diligently assumed the mantle of the others as well and that to either of them, a simple touch or lack there of spoke volumes in but one word: pariah. So adorned, together, as paupers, they moved through time while holding to each other as perpetual brothers-in- arms.
"Peter, I use the analogy purposely as the unspoken bond between them left little to the imagination. It, the bond of loyalty, consumes them to the exclusion of all else and unless the cycle is broken, what has happened before shall occur again. It is the darker side of the equation to which I alluded and to which the Schutzstaffelor were quick to note, that within the ultimate beauty of the child also dwells the unbridled fury of the…
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“…ever-brooding soul: ein das nach einem jähen Gedanken so in beträchtlichem Ausmaß bevollmächtigt könnte es und würde die Welt ändern (one so empowered that upon a precipitous thought it could and would change the world). Die SS hielten das Kind einschließlich Schönheit und das Tier; schließlich sogar hatte er sich passend an seinem Kern des Besitzens das integrale Qualität beschrieben, die sie suchten; und welchen Monstern sie meinten, er von den Tiefen der Hölle terrify andere waren selbst reichliche Rechtfertigung für ihr mehr als konstantes Interesse zusammenriefen (The SS considered the child inclusively as both beauty and the beast; after all, even he had suitably described himself at his core of possessing that integral quality which they sought; and what monsters they deemed he summoned from the depths of hell to terrify others was itself ample justification for their more than constant interest).
“Moreover, they had accurately discerned that his unrequited love, to which he had alluded to offhandedly on several occasions, if manipulated correctly would make them in effect, invincible. Consequently, they concluded with certainty, that so nurtured by them, he would become their definitive weapon. Suspiciously, nahm ich sie, beide wahr, die kombiniert wurden, als furchterregendes eine Kraft, wie erdenklich (Suspiciously, I perceived them, both combined, as a fearsome a force as imaginable).
“Peter…a tissue please…you must understand he was considered…thank you…an extraordinary child, but only an “instrument” of wonder: however he was “conditionally acceptable.” Take from my initial analogy what you will: to them, he was but a tool, not only a justifiable means to an end: but a distinctive device to be used. As for his being…conditionally acceptable…you have no idea the connotation it carries; nor, in retrospect, of what it meant.
“It meant…Peter…a moment…another tissue if you will, my thanks…that both he and his mother would be allowed to live, if; he would diligently serve the Reich’s thousand-year march and if he did not manifestly pose a threat to the Reich. However, they dismissed outright the patently latent perils he posed: the ability to see through time and manipulate its circ-umstances. Despite the contradictions, they persisted to press the child hoping that he would blindly kowtow to their desires.
“Außerdem nach dem Befehl, diesem wurde er selbst, seine Mutter sich zu entledigen, wie sie Treffen beim Lebensborns hatte geprüft zu sein frequentierte und ich das Wort vorsichtig verwende: unproduktiv (Moreover, upon command, that he himself would, dispose of his mother, as her frequented encounters at the Lebensborn’s had proved to be, and I use the word cautiously: unproductive). After her eradication, he would willingly submit, without question, to the will of the state to which even his physical appearance, in time, with certain procedures could be and would be altered. Die Direktion, dennoch waren zugrundeliegende Implikationen dieses kluge Geschlecht, war er zu auffallend ein Kind attraktiv, zum ein Junge zu sein; und folglich mangels des dauerhaften Schrammens (The principal, yet underlying implication was that gender wise, he was too strikingly attractive a child to be a boy; and thus in need of permanent scarring).
“However, regardless of his initial appearance, the SS coveted the child, as no other; presumptuously justifying that with time; his heart would be theirs, as would his impressive and wide-ranging talents. Indem sie warteten, vermuteten sie, er würden gedreht, um ihre Notwendigkeiten zu dienen; infolgedessen, widersprechen das Instrument des plötzlichen und unerklärlichen Todes zu allen in der Opposition oder darin mit warden (By waiting, they surmised, he would be turned to serve their needs; consequently becoming the instrument of sudden and inexplicable death to all in opposition or therein conflict with). Interessierten entließen sich sie wenig für seine Tugend und sie und vermuteten, daß in der Zeit, sie auch, vermindern würde: das Feststellen, daß schließlich, er sie sich selbst bereitwillig entledigen würde und er, als sie, würden ihrem wünschen erliegen, selbst werden das Opfer des feigen Wunsches (They cared little for his virtue, dismissing it, surmising that in time, it too, would diminish: concluding that eventually, he would willingly dispose of it himself, and he, as it, would succ-umb to their wants, itself becoming the prey of craven desire).
“So gefangengenommen innerhalb ihrer Schwärzung würde es kein Entweichen geben; und so verleitet, wie mit schmecken Bonbons zuerst, würde er sich bereitwillig verleiten. Schließlich würde er das symbolische Plakat die eugenic Nachkommen des Reichs preisend werden: das Wunderkind, die Wunderwaffe, des Reichs…der universal soldat…Ihr Universalsoldat. (So captured within their darkness there would be no escape; and enticed, as with a sweets first taste, he would willingly entrap himself. Eventually, he would become the emblematic placard extolling the eugenic progeny of the Reich: the wonder child, the ultimate wonder weapon, of the Reich…the universal soldier…their universal soldier).
,,Jedoch waren alle ihre rücksichtsvollen Zusammenfassungen und in der ernsten Störung specious (However, all their considerate conclusions were specious and in grave error). Was auftrat, war das Entgegengesetzte; es war er, der sie verleitete, anbietengeschnürte Stückchen, die Brotkrumen der Zeit, zu denen, die folgen würden. Das kleine wußte irgendwie mehr als alles (What occurred was the opposite; it was he who entrapped them, offering laced morsels, the breadcrumbs of time, to those who would follow. The little one somehow knew more than everything).
,,Verstehen Sie, was ich andeute; er kannte nicht nur alles und Speiche der fristgerechten Sachen, als ob sie die weltlichen Tatsachen waren, von denen, schon aufzutreten hatte; aber hatte auch auf gewisse Weise, sie beeinflußt (Do you understand what I am implying; he not only knew everything and spoke of timely things as if they were the mundane facts of which had yet to occur; but had also in some manner, influenced them). Die Dummköpfe bestanden das fort offensichtliche nie, betrachtend: daß in der Wirklichkeit, er jedes von ihnen wußte, lange zuvor sie sich kannten (The fools persisted never considering the obvious: that in reality, he knew each of them long before they knew themselves). Whatever plans they made for themselves involving the child were the manipulated dandling* illusions of countless possibilities: his own.”
“Dad? I’m sorry to interrupt you, again, but, a question or two, please? Look, I don’t understand a couple of things so help me out here. First, I’m really sorry for what I said before alright because I know this whole thing means a lot to you, but something doesn’t add up. Why you? I mean it seems like you wound up acting more or less like a stepfather to this child. But if the boys dead why are you doing this? I mean you’re going to all of this trouble to be so precise, it’s as if you somehow still owe him something. Well?”
“I would reply to your preliminary question with the following, it is because I promised the child that I would to do so and I will keep my promise to him despite my current circ-umstances.”
“O.K. so you promised. But dad, the boy’s dead. How in the hell is he going to ever know? Besides, how’d you hear about him ‘cause you said you’d been looking at his works before you even met him and secondly how’d you manage to set up that incidental meeting at the train station and don’t tell me that the SS, or Jodl, or Stellrecht set it up because I know better!
„Hmpph, tun Sie Sie? Lassen Sie mich zuerst mich erklären hörte nicht über ihn. Zweitens klagte ich keine solche Sitzung an (Hmpph, you do do you? Let me clarify, first, I did not hear about him. Secondly, I arraigned no such meeting). And lastly, there are two means by which the child will discern: the first is if I do as I promised; the second will be if I do not. The SS and Gestapo…
“Dad, your not going to sit there and tell me that the SS and Gestapo arraigned that meeting for you are you, I don’t…
“Ich besagt keine solche Sache und ich sagten nie, daß „gebetenes I“ ich? Der gemeinsame Antrag war von Keitel und von Jodl in Zusammenarbeit mit den SS und dem Gestapo (I said no such thing and I never said “I” asked did I? The joint request was from both Keitel and Jodl in cooperation with the SS and Gestapo). Mit Stellrechts, lüftet der beträchtliche Eingang, der mich autorisiert, das Kind außen zu treffen, ich wurde bewilligt nicht nur Zugang aber projiziert auch Steuerung (With Stellrechts, considerable input authorizing me to meet the child without airs, I was not only granted access but also project control). Der Ausgangs antrag für die Sitzung war am Geheiße von anderen; der Reihe nach bewilligte es mir Zugang zu seinen Arbeiten und begleitend, die Gelegenheit, mit dem Wundernkind zu beraten (The initial request for the meeting was at the behest of another; in turn it granted me access to his works, and concomitantly, the opportunity to consult with the wonder-child.) From that point on let’s say that nature took its course.”
“So then you ARE telling me that you arraigned the meeting at the train station, aren’t you?”
“No, I am telling you no such thing.”
“Dad…look…if you didn’t arrange it and the SS or Gestapo didn’t…then…then…who in the hell did?”
“Peter, wenn die restliche Alternative zur Gleichung die einzige Antwort, unabhängig davon die Möglichkeit ist, jedoch farfetched, muß es unterhalten werden. Es war der Junge (Peter, if the remaining alternative to the equation is the only answer, regardless of possibility, however farfetched, it must be entertained. It was the boy). Don’t look so surprised, how else would you, without the minutiae, understand the scope of deception which took place. Sit back and listen.”
“Die SS und das Gestapo wurden zuerst dem Bestehen des Jungen durch eine Reihe angenommene übereinstimmungen bewußt; das erste von, welchem sein Ausgangsc$skizzieren war von, was später war, benannt zu werden das Horten 229; ein Fliegenflügel, Heimlichkeitbomber, der im Aussehen dem gegenwärtigen Projekt ähnelt, sind wir geheim in miteinbezogen worden. (The SS and Gestapo first became aware of the boy’s existence through a series of supposed coincidences; the first of which was his initial sketching of what was later to be termed the Horten 229; a flying wing, stealth bomber, which in appearance resembles the current project we have secretly been involved with). Außerdem würde es zur königlichen Luftwaffe „unsichtbar“sein (Moreover, it would be “invisible” to the Royal Air Force). Vornehmlich war es besser als alles funktionsfähige Flugzeug, das wir herauf bis jetzt gehabt haben (Notably, it was even better than all operational aircraft we have had up until now).
“You lean closer perhaps anticipating more? On this matter, I will not disappoint you...allow me.
“The initial sketch, which came to their attention, was purposely left on a park bench inside a particular aviary. The keeper of the aviary “found” it and in turn presented it to the zoo’s curator who immediately notified the Gestapo. Shortly thereafter, another sketch was likewise discovered. Selbstverständlich danach hatte das Gestapo wenig Mühe, wenn er den Künstler „entdeckte“, der sie gezeichnet hatte (Of course, thereafter, the Gestapo had little trouble in “discovering” the artist who had drawn them). It was Joachem…but then again unknown to them…he had a certain amount of help.
“At first, quite naturally to them, it appeared impossible that a child could or would be the source of the imaginative super weapons that were now laid out before them. Not content with the child’s veracity, they supplied him with drawing materials: several pieces of artists paper, pencils, colored crayons and the like; then demanded that he prove the works were indeed his. He was more than happy to comply. So, while his mother sat in an office upstairs, die Dummköpfe legten ihn „alleine“ in einen fensterlosen Raum, während einer auf einer Prüfung wurde (...the fools placed him “alone” in a windowless room as one would on an examination). How shortsighted of them to assume the obvious; that a small child left crying alone in a windowless basement interrogation room at Gestapo Headquarters, would be anything other than “all alone.”
“They locked him inside then posted sentries with stern orders to admit none until relieved by Keitel himself. Keitel arrived hours later dismissing his tardiness offhandedly, quipping “I have better things to concern myself with than this.”
„Als Keitel, das Gestapo und der Schutz kamen die Zelle, die der Junge seine grünen Augen schloß und lächelten, während der Druck seins in Richtung zu ihnen arbeitet (As Keitel, the Gestapo and the guards entered the cubicle the boy closed his bright green eyes and smiled while pushing his works towards them). All approached laughing but at first glance, it was Keitel who immediately ordered silence and for the sentries to withdraw immediately and re-post themselves while also directing the Gestapo official to immediately notify the Reich Chancellor.
,,Dort auf der Tabelle, zu ihrem äußern Sie Verwunderung, sie fand, daß er andere verschiedene Arbeiten skizziert hatte (There on the table, to their utter amazement, they found that he had sketched other various works). Er beschriftete jedes separat als Wunderwaffe… der Zukunft (He labeled each separately as a wonder weapon…of the future). Ungeheuere bewegliche Kanonen, propellerless raketenangetriebenes Flugzeug und diagrammed grundlegende Gleichungen von atomics zusätzlich zum Aussehen der realen und synthetischen Polymer-Plastik Ketten, die eine Heimlichkeitfähigkeit zu einem Unterseeboot zur Verfügung stellen würden (Monstrous mobile cannons, propellerless rocket propelled aircraft and the diagrammed basic equations of atomics in addition to the appearance of both real and synthetic polymer chains which would provide a stealth capability to a submarine).
Of course what particularly struck and had enticed Keitel were the various rocket designs. Verständlich, stelle mich ich vor, visiere anfangs an, daß sie veritably geiferten an, was auf die Tabelle legen; selbst wenn das Los von ihnen nicht Scheiße vom shinola kannte (Understandably, I imagine, at first sight, that they veritably drooled at what lay on the table; even if the lot of them didn’t know shit from shinola). As one would expect, they repeated the testing process several times over with similar results; each time it resulted in more enticing information. But without explanation on many of his sketches, he had additionally in part scribbled portions of my name and then proceeded to sign them off to me as a “gift” from another.
„Da Sie erwarten würden, Keitel und das Gestapo fragten das Kind, separat und zusammen, aber in einer sehr entspannten Weise selbstverständlich (As you would expect, Keitel and the Gestapo questioned the child, both separately and together, but in a very relaxed manner of course). “The rocket sketches provided,” he said, “are for one Werhner Maximillian, and are to be considered his own.” “After all,” he continued, “Werhner Maximillian is “recommended” by the voices of the unseen angels who speak and visit me on a daily basis.”
“Despite the absolute shock on their faces, from that moment on, with the broadest of grins he became adamant. Hartnäckig, behielt er bei, daß er sie ausführlich nur mit mir besprechen würde; weil es ich war, würde er „vertraut“ und „ verhandeln ohne anderen (Insistently, he maintained that he would discuss them at length only with me; because it was I, he “trusted” and “would bargain with no other)."
,,Das hörend, weder, waren Keitel noch das Gestapo erfreut, aber noch setzten sie voraus, daß ihr Glück in der Tat der Arbeitsbeweis der Devine Intervention war: im wesentlichen die Arbeits hand des Gottes (Hearing that, neither Keitel nor the Gestapo was pleased but still they presumed their good fortune was indeed the working proof of Devine intervention: in essence the knowledable working Hand of God). They even went so far as to have the second signature on the sketches analyzed; it proved not to be that of Joachem’s but of another who they interpreted was decidedly bolder; besides, the latter wrote with the right hand and not the left, as did Joachem.
,,Im Rückblick meinte ich ihn war dann, daß das kleine man sie erfolgreich verleitet hatte. Die seducers selbst seduced; und unknowingly, über Zeit, würden sie erliegen (In retrospect, I deemed it was then that the little one had successfully enticed them. The seducers themselves had been seduced; and unknowingly, over time, they would succ-umb). The little one had hooked a very big fish.
The days turned to weeks and then months. Während einer kurzen Periode waren alle Inhalt und vorgetäuschte Hingabe und betreffen für sein Wohl (For a short period, all were content and feigned devotion and concern for his well-being). Dennoch kurz nach dem, für sie, gingen Sachen schnell zur Hölle (Nevertheless, shortly after that, for them, things went quickly to hell). It was evident, that they were not at ease with him and the several tangible attempts to frighten him, in attempts to divulge more information, had failed miserably; as each resulted not only in the extreme mental psychosis of the interrogator, but to their physical debilitation as well.
“The initial interrogators were the fortunate ones and escaped his presence, upset but, relatively unscathed; however, the presumptuous others who followed, and there were many, were not as “lucky.” They immediately ceased to function either upon a solitary touch, however slight, to the person of the child, or but one look into his intense emerald green eyes which haunted them. Stumpf zu sein, danach waren sie unbrauchbar; das kleine buchstäblich gehabt die lebende Scheiße heraus erschrocken sie (To be blunt, afterwards they were useless; the little one literally had scared the living shit out them).
“The child’s repute quickly circulated and with each subsequent attempt the interrogators fortunes rapidly diminished with the latter two electing to turn their P-08’s on each other simultaneously. From that point on, it was evident that they would go no further. It was at that juncture that they relented and provided me with his penciled works in addition to whatever limited background they had purportedly inveigled from the child.
,,Die Sitzung wurde ich Speiche von, Wochen vor seinem Auftreten , wurde gebildet spezifisch auf Bitten von dem Jungen angeklagt, der sie mit seiner Zeit, Datum und Position versah (The meeting I spoke of, was arraigned weeks prior to its occurrence, was specifically made at the request of the boy who provided them with its time, date and location. Der alleine Codicil, den er zur Verfügung stellte, waren direkt: daß nur ich ihn treffen sollte; keine andere würden stören und wenn die übereinkunft, unabhängig davon Störung, das Resultat defekt waren, würden zu ihrem entscheidenden Verlust sein (The solitary codicil he provided was straightforward: that only I was to meet him; no others would intrude, and if the bargain were broken, regardless of fault, the result would be to their ultimate loss). He did not lie…he never did.
“After the consultation went to hell….that same evening…uninvited…I returned to the carriage. Sadly, it was the first of many such evenings which followed in which I observed the slumbers of a child who was awakened from the monstrosities of his supposed dreams by the dismay of his own screams and immediately turned my head away; unable to, if not partially, unwilling to help. Peter, the child spoke in many languages while he slept, not of the sweet dreams of youth but of the countless horrors to which he had born witness. Nein, genau schrie er in der Qual an ihrer Wirklichkeit und glaubte er, wieder erlebte jedes, während er schlief (No, more precisely he screamed in agony at their reality, believing he relived each as he slept).
“Briefly put, much later, it fell to Stellrecht and Yodl to notify the Reich Chancellor that I had “successfully” completed my mission. For some reason, in my report, I “felt” the need to omit the intrusion. With unabashed enthusiasm, both entered his office and explained that an accord had been reached but it was strongly reiterated that to obtain the optimum results that, „der Junge zur Reife ernährt werden müssen, bevor sein Service in das Reich wirklich beginnen würde (the boy must be nurtured to maturity before his service to the Reich would actually commence). Bis dann,“ sie fuhren, „wir haben angeboten das Abfangen der Berechtigung dem Kind fort (Until then,” they continued, “We have offered the trappings of authority to the child). Ist er kein weniger das klügere. Schließlich ist er während seines Alters klein, des geringfügigen Baus und noch ein wenig effeminate (He will be no less the wiser. After all, he is small for his age, of slight build and still somewhat effeminate).”
“The accord they presented was my report to which at Joachem’s request we had sealed with thumbprints: his own and mine.
“According to Yodl, the Fuhrer, who remained seated at his desk most eagerly and willingly, reached out and accepted it. Immediately he stood and initially smiled most cordially at both while fondly caressing the unbroken seals. Then strangely, as if entranced, he staggered for a moment then stooped and began repeatedly to stroke the top of his desk with the fingertips of both hands. For several minutes, neither Stellrecht nor Yodl spoke and except for the sound of the scratching the Fuhrers nails made upon his desk the room remained silent. So transfixed, both stared at the desktop, noting that with each pass of either hand, the respective gouges cut deeper into the woods grain. Schließlich als er mit ihnen sprach, schaute er nicht oben und stattdessen wünschte, mit entfernten Augen anzustarren, als ob hingerissen, an den Nuten er gerade in Schreibtische die Oberfläche geätzt hatte (Eventually, when he spoke to them he did not look up, instead desiring to stare with distant eyes, as if entranced, at the grooves he had just etched into the desks surface).
,,Anstatt zu lächeln und die Nachrichten zu begrüßen reserviert, blieb er anfangs und fing, sie resentfully zu fragen an (Instead of smiling and welcoming the news, he at first remained reserved and began to question them resentfully). Kein der zwei war besorgt, auf ihn zu antworten; entschieden erkennen, dieses einige Sachen wurden besser unsaid gelassen (Neither of the two was anxious to reply to him; decidedly recognizing, that some things were better left unsaid). Jedoch während er beide seiner Hände sprach, die gesucht wurden, um den Schreibtischlack heraus von unter seinen Fingernägeln zu schlagen während das erste seiner drei Fragen (However, while he spoke both of his hands sought to flick the desks varnish out from beneath his fingernails while the first of his three questions, “So? Ist alles das? Dann haben Sie nichts weiter?“ kam als überraschung (So? Is that all? Then you have nothing further?” came as a surprise).
„Warteten sie in vorsichtige Ruhe, während er mit fortfuhr, „Schwachköpfe! Sie beide fassen nicht die Bedeutung der Jungen' Aussehen (They waited in guarded silence as he continued with, “Imbeciles! You both do not grasp the significance of the boys’ appearance). Wenn Gott nicht auf unserer Seite war, warum würde er ihn hier… mir… hier und jetzt schicken? Und jetzt… erwarten Sie mich,… auf das Kind zu warten…, um zu reifen? Sie sehen die Kerben im Schreibtisch? Wissen Sie, was sie sind? (If God was not on our side why would he send him here…to me…here and now? And now…you expect me to wait… for the child…to mature? You see the scores in the desk? Do you know what they are)?”
,,An welchem Punkt, entsprechend Yodl, das Fuhrer dann oben schaute und zum Witzbold den Finger seiner linken Hand an ihnen beide anfing, während seine rechte Hand fest nach seiner Hüfte stillstand. Außerdem hatte der Blick auf seinem Gesicht deutlich zu dem von implacable geändert und kompromisslose Einzelperson, die erbarmungslos fortfuhr , sie auszuschelten, fast schreiend an ihnen, mit seinen Wörtern von, „sprechen nicht mit mir! Ich erkläre Ihnen! (At which point, according to Yodl, the Fuhrer then looked up and began to wag the finger of his left hand at them both, while his right hand rested firmly upon his hip. Moreover, the look on his face had markedly changed to that of an implacable and uncompromising individual, who pitilessly continued to berate them, almost shouting at them, with his words of, “Do not speak to me! I will tell you)! Sie sind Wadenetze, die Fische werden gefangen innen sind; aber, wie Sie sehen, ist ihr Ineinandergreifen unvollständig. Was Sie theoretisch für Gebrauch in meinem Namens… geworfen haben, ist jetzt zu mir… anscheinend unbrauchbar, wie jetzt UNBRAUCHBARE andere… sind! UNBRAUCHBAR! UNBRAUCHBAR! ALLE SIND UNBRAUCHBAR! Umgeben Dummköpfe mich! Der Guppy, ein kleiner Fisch, wird angelockt, dennoch bleibt es un-gefangen. Die zwei von Ihnen sind MEINE Generäle? …, wenn so… mach's gut , das er nicht entgeht. Wenn so… mein… General… mach's gut, das er nicht entgeht. Ich habe… und zu nehmen…, was meins sein muß oder sonst (They are the seines which fish are netted in; but as you see, their mesh is incomplete. What you have theoretically cast for use in my name…is now useless to me…apparently as now are others…USELESS! USELESS! USELESS! ALL ARE USELESS! Fools surround me! The guppy, a little fish, is lured, yet it remains un-netted. The two of you are MY generals? If so…my…generals…take care, he does not escape. I will have…and take…what must be mine, or else…” Ist dieses alles dort ist?
,,Weder antworteten Stellrecht noch Yodl auf das Fuhrer möglicherweise vorwegnehmen, daß Ruhe der bessere Kurs von Wörtern war. Yodl selbst erklärte mir, „dann dem Fuhrer, als ob plötzlich geweckt, oben geschaut, und dann bloß gesagt, „Mittagessen? Verbinden Sie mich?“ (Neither Stellrecht nor Yodl replied to the Fuhrer’s last question to them of “Is this all there is?” perhaps, anticipating, that silence was the better course of words. Yodl himself told me, “Then the Fuhrer, as if suddenly awakened, looked up, and then merely said, “Lunch? Join me)? Beide entschuldigten sich liebenswürdig der Notwendigkeit aus irgendeinem Grund glaubend, sich von ihm zu überholen. Im Ende für beide, würde sie sie besser gedient haben, so getan zu haben, fortwährend. Übrigens hatte viel neueres Yodl, das lightheartedly, die Forelle gedient wurde angegeben wurde, unerklärlich sich ranzig gedreht (Both graciously excused themselves feeling the need for some reason to distance themselves from him. In the end for both, it would have served them better to have done so, continually. By the way, much later Yodl lightheartedly stated, the trout served had inexplicably turned rancid).
But as they say that is now all water under the bridge. How crass and bitter the feelings…the child meant a great deal to me and now even I have all but reduced him to a cold and distant obscurity: so callous the thoughts then so sour the feelings now.
“So to answer your question yes, this means much to me but the obvious still eludes you but I see your eyes and still they question but at the moment it is not me they are concerned with. So, what is your question and why, pray tell, are you now alternatively staring at the mirror then back over your shoulder?
“Sorry, I…I…thought I saw…no nothing…I saw nothing…but…you’re right I do have a question…one question…please…tell me…how did you seal the copy of your report which the Fuhrer handled? Wait…a touch however slight affected those whom he contacted either directly or indirectly. He trapped him…the little son of a bitch trapped the crazy bastard!
Very good, very good indeed, in a moment of clarity my son now perceives the obvious after all blood is thicker than water…especially when utilized as a seal. But…
_________________________
*dandling---It means to move a baby or small child gently up and down on your knees.
... (explanation: each dot represents a measured beat of time. they were used in ancient theater plays to measure the replies of actors, etc.)
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…“…as I have always told you…the devil…is…in the details; especially those purposely omitted.”
“What do you mean dad…you just said that …Joachem… asked for the meeting and set the whole thing up.”
“I said no such thing”.
“Yes it is. That’s exactly what you said, what's more I have a couple of more questions for you, but…I don’t know if I should because I think I’m going to be sick right now and…”
“Yes… you appear…apprehensive. However, I reiterate that I said no such thing. Your supposition of his solitary accomplishment is in inaccurate and you ascribe far too much credit to him. Besides, as I have told you, he did not act alone; he had help. I would explain further, but it is evident from your darting eyes that something else has suddenly demanded their attentiveness; and I would conjecture that it is the mirror, which concerns you as to what it truly does or does not reflect. Evidently, you are tired. Perhaps you surmise that your eyes are merely in error.
“After all, misperceived first looks are often illusory. Still, it is the compelling steadfast second look at the concealed that bears additional study. Is that why you now unexpectedly concern yourself with it? If your awareness…is…a nonentity…it…none-the-less causes the hackles upon your neck to rise. I remember that at one time, I too had such an experience. I would proceed…but…you appear pallid as well. Perhaps I should wait until you…”
“No. Look, I’ll be fine, I’m just a little spooked that’s all…it’s just that I think I keep on seeing something in that damn mirror…right behind me… it keeps blipping in and out of sight; and then when I turn around…it’s gone.”
“Your assertion is intriguing. So whatever exists magically appears; then suddenly vanishes? Hmm, to entertain such thoughts would lead one to believe that you are an exceptionally troubled young man. Möglicherweise ist es ein zugehöriges Familie Ausfallen (Perhaps it is an inherent family failing). A little more water if you please…possibly this time for yourself; and Peter…your constant twitchings…are amusing. Maybe, if you were to close your eyes, then allow yourself a moment that later your eyes would clear; but I would caution, what may become initially apparent to you may be intimidating. Have I told you that it is best not to look into her eyes…at least not the first time? I think not. By the way, she states, despite your apparent “condition,” that she is “…at ease” with your presence.
“Seriously Dad!”
“Ohh yes…she is quite serious; and especially concerned with the many unanswered questions you would pose. Now, close your eyes and ask.”
“O.K. Have it your way…I still can’t believe that I’m doing this…look, see…but even with my eyes closed something doesn’t add up. For starters, you said that Joachem left the sketches on a bench, then is tossed in a cell crying but then all of a sudden the kids all smiles as he drops a veritable load on them. Then later on, he asks for you by name just to set up a meeting to negotiate with you, really dad, in exchange for what? And what difference does some coc-kamamie handwriting analysis have to do with proving any of this; maybe he was ambidextrous. Which still brings me back to my first question, which you avoided, why you? I mean, if this kid was so great what did he need you for; when he could have done it all himself?”
“I evaded nothing, you interrupted my thoughts. Moreover, he did not do “it” himself; as I have told you, he had help…including myself and now…with any luck…you.”
Dad, I think your nuts if you think that I’m going to…”
“Believe what I say?”
“No that’s not what I meant to say…no not all. What I meant was, if…just if…this kid was so crafty why in the hell should I believe that he couldn’t or didn’t stop all of what happened after that from actually happening? Look at all the lives he could’ve saved. Why not just do the obvious and change history? That’s what I meant I was going to say. Besides, I’m getting antsy about the phantom that you claim is hanging out around here; at this point what’s the big attraction?
“I will reply to your last question first, I never stated she was “hanging around.” I stated that she was “looking in on me” while also concerned for your well-being; as well as her own. However, the fact that she is leaning over your shoulder for the moment and smiling should in reality be of no concern to you. Still we are pleased, that despite your skepticism there exists within it, a glimmer, if not the possibility of final acceptance: which is encouraging. After all, the road from denial to recognition contains many potholes and is neither smooth nor quick when traveled, though often what lies at journeys end is well worth the travail.
“However your various questions are reasonable, yet I have cautioned you as to the depth of the trickery. Furthermore, in your state, you have managed to omit the most important factor in the equation: the connection of the boy to Athena. When “you” have explained it to yourself, do not look so surprised…now listen carefully and follow the logic.
“To your first point, I agree that I specifically said, “…that the initial request was at the behest of another. It was the boy.” Indisputably, that much is certain. I had spoken the truth; however, I did not ascribe the act specifically to Joachem did I? I reiterate yet again that I did not.
“Peter, you have acknowledged that the boy entrapped the Reich Chancellor but have you duly considered the possibility, that if one possesses the ability to move through time and space that one may also be capable of appearing in two places simultaneously? As a scholar I would inquire, what is the name of this phenomenon? I await your response…as does the one who still stands behind you in good spirits.”
“Uhhm, dad please don’t kid around with me about that right now…but…what you’re talking about would be called bilocation or multilocation. Which, which was, I mean were, uhh, well each was used to develop the primal basis of various ancient philosophical systems including…including the early Greek philosophy and of course it’s also in the Bible; utilized as a predicate underling Christianity.”
“A confluence…my, my, my…how coincidental. But, yes it is, and of course we both recognize that philosophy…is…best defined as what and please…detail it…precisely.”
“Damn it dad if you wanted Oxfords definition of it you could have looked it up yourself!
But, basically it’s the assessment of the fundamentals of life involving causality…that everything that happens must have a fundamental cause.”
„Es jetzt? Fahren Sie fort (Does it now? Continue).”
“That existence…is the state of being actual or real instead of the imagined.”
,, Folglich was Sie sich vorstellen, daß jetzt hinter Ihnen steht, ist zu Ihnen oder zu Ihrer Phantasie wie I Am. so real. Fahren Sie fort (Therefore what you imagine that stands behind you is as real to you or your imagination as I Am. Proceed.)”
“Then, then, of course, there’s reality …what is actual instead of false and freedom, which is the ability to act in any given state at will.”
,,Infolgedessen ist das wer hinter Ihnen steht, wirklich anwesend und ist anscheinend in der Lage, am Willen zu fungieren. Außerdem obwohl manchmal unseen, besteht sie auch in den alternativen Zuständen Ihrer Wirklichkeit. Weitermachen Sie. (Consequently, the one who stands behind you is actually present and is apparently able to act at will. Moreover, even though sometimes unseen, she too exists in the alternated states of your reality. Carry on.)”
“Moreover, that it is the ultimate search for truth. You know, what is in conformity and factual or in broader context, honesty or loyalty to what exists, to whatever the form…it is always the paramount concern. There. Are you satisfied?”
“As there is another present, if you are referring to “her” she nods in affirmation while attributing but a modic-um level of attainment to you. As for me…mostly…yes…as it is a verification of my original supposition that the two are intertwined. However, the question is now more aptly turned: will you be satisfied with my reminiscences…in your eventual search for the truth? If so, consider that the truth sought is as intangible as the boy we now speak of is both duplicitous and shrewd.
"However, given your summation we agree that the child I spoke of was another boy, who acted at will with impunity in search of what he lacked. The boy I specifically alluded to was his look alike and of course, as a student of history and of science you are familiar with the term to which I now allude?”
“Dad, why in the hell are you using the Socratic Method* on me because we both know what your intimating. You’re claiming that it was either his vardoger** or doppelgänger *** that took his place.”
“If so, those are your words not mine, therefore, hold your salient conclusion and consider the following circ-umstances. That Joachem was not ambidextrous; he was decidedly left-handed except for those intrinsically “peculiar” moments when “he presumed to sketch.” What is more, is, that at meals, as was and is currently the practice, Joachem brought his fork, spoon and drink to his mouth likewise: left-handed. In addition, he was by nature a friendless child, suspiciously avoiding, as if by choice, all who would be close: regardless of gender; fearing that the slightest of touch of either, regardless of intent, would be horrendous.
“Only his mother, as if by necessity, was able to hold or offer a degree of comfort to the child; though on rare occasions, he would uncharacteristically seek her reassurance. I would add, that as for his biological father, we knew very little, except from what Freida could or would provide. That she considered him a most forceful and dynamic individual with whom she fell in love with some time before Joachem’s birth; claiming that it was love at first sight. But of him specifically, there is little else that is of record; as even the Gestapo had constant difficulty in actually locating his whereabouts and what service records they kept of the man had inexplicably been purged by an unknown and elusive operative hidden within their ranks.
“But I digress. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, now I remember that it was some time after he and I met, that Joachem, refused to speak, to anyone, including her: a fact for which she blamed me. Largely the blame was well deserved. The harsh reality of truth was that Joachem resolved not to speak after totally committing himself to the course of action discussed within the conclave of images to which he had willfully, albeit reluctantly, so acquiesced. Do you understand my obvious inference, that each vision I glimpsed that afternoon, within the temporal vortex, was his living mirror image, co-equal entities to which one was more than the sum of the entirety. It was at his behest that the plot was hatched and I firmly believe that he, the child we speak of, is primarily the source of motivation.
"However, even prior to that pregnant instance, she had suspected that the child who spoke to me could not have possibly been her son but that of a clever alternate who, briefly at times, actually replaced him. The basis of her assertions was implicit: claiming a mother’s intuition; and her reservations, while intangible, were wide-ranging.
“The most prominent of which was that her son, who could indeed speak, suffered from a notable speech impediment when nervous; and was quite serious, when she confided in me, that, “The boy’s voice who spoke to me in his stead was markedly different”…from her sons. “After all,” she said, “a mother instinctively knows the voice of her own child.” Even so, she concerned herself with the boy as she was, “…some way drawn to the child and lavished what comfort I could while silently fearing; if in error, what else might I do?” After all she continued, “He has shown me a face of himself which, even to a mother, is markedly different if not startling.”
“Additionally, she was not only taken aback at his most cordial loquaciousness with me; but also had, on several occasions, experienced what she described as moments of déjà vu: a temporal loop involving conditions surrounding him that she had previously experienced.
“Normally I would have discarded such attributes except that the atypical moments to which I have noted, where he either sketched or spoke, were in every instance preceded by an abnormality in the time-space area immediately surrounding him. Specifically, that those in his immediate vicinity noted that time and motion itself aberrantly appeared to slow or halt then immediately resume.
“Again I would have dismissed the abnormality except that there were on several occasions when the boy had been “secured” that various security personnel swear that they viewed him elsewhere; either the lavatory or sitting beside his mother; who of course proceeded to ridicule the notion.
“Dad, that’s the second time that you’ve talked about what’s casually known as the “time stop experience” and bilocation.” Why?
“The answer is because, all which is relative, presumably centers on the boy and that for some cause, I too was sought; if only to enlighten. I believe there is no other explanation, which suffices. Throughout our discourse you have capriciously and repeatedly dismissed the obvious, while failing to accept Homer’s ode of war at face value as the practicable answer to the riddle. Specifically, of who prompted the child’s captors to hurl Hectors son from a cliff overlooking Troy: and who now seeks the obvious, the symmetry found of motherly fulfillment from the child who, as she has stated, bears her mark for eternity. The answer lies with the one who stands behind you at this moment: Athena.
“It…is the only article, which has through time, eluded the complementary being who now in part bears her name: Athena Aleitheia. Jedoch in dieser Wirklichkeit, hat Zeit nicht die Wunden, es hat verbittert sie anstatt geheilt (However, in this reality, time has not healed the wounds it has instead exacerbated them). Ich nehme wahr, daß das Kind noch am Krieg mit beiden selbst und sie ist; und hört nicht auf, wie Absicht wiederholt Bestehen zu allen Enden annulliert hat (I perceive that the child is still at war with both himself and her; and will not cease, as intent has repeatedly canceled existence to all ends).
“That is why she is here. She wishes to assure the event horizons success without which she would fail. After all, the child is the genesis, which was born of her own conception. The progeny is emphatically more not less than she once was, and is in her eyes, the incarnation of perfection surpassing even that of her own creation.
“You asked the moving question, moments ago, why didn’t the boy change history and void what has occurred? Was läßt Sie denken, daß er nicht… bereits… geänderte Geschichte mehrmals rüber hat? (What makes you think that he has not …already…changed history several times over)? Welche Vermutung gibt es, festzustellen, daß er nicht bereits unter den vielen die optimale Konsequenz vermutet hat? (What supposition is there to conclude that he has not already surmised among the many: the optimal consequence)? Wie würden Sie wissen? (How would you know)? Ausgenommen für das Unbekannte wurden Sie nicht (Except for the unknown, you would not). Ich schlage vor, daß er absichtlich den Kurs von Fällen geändert hat, um einen wünschenswerten Fallhorizont zu sichern: die Vorwähler seiner eigenen Mutter; und wenn es so tut, widerlegte das schlaue charage meisterhaft die Tiefe der verkündeten Täuschung. (I imply that he has willfully changed the course of events to secure a desirable event horizon: the selection of his own mother; and in doing so, the cunning charade masterfully belied the depth of the deception promulgated).
"Dad, wait a second, you’re telling me that that’s what’s happened? What about the wonder weapons he clued them on to? What about all those people who were lost in the interim?
"Probing questions but consider the alternative, if but one item in the past was to change…that we would not be speaking, as we perceive we are, in the here and now. It is the unseen circ-umstances, which have led to our current existence, which perpetually surrounds us. Misdirection was and is the key to our existence. If the boy had not “offered”, enticements, as one would confections to a child, to those who sought domination what would have been the consequence. On that thought, you may extrapolate.
“Misdirection? He gave them factual clues to purposely misdirect them? That’s an absurd and self serving conclusion!
“Is it now? Is it self-serving to continue to exist? Does the absurdity you decry encompass the technological advances, which we have since “appropriated” as our own and currently benefit from? If the groundwork had not been previously laid, to what developmental point would we be at present? Moreover, if the millions of Deutschmarks had not been allocated to their research, where exactly, would the funds have been applied? I will answer the problematic question for you, that it is far cheaper to buy millions of bullets than to develop atomic weaponry. It is also far less expensive to both enlist and instruct men in the use of antiquated firearms and armaments than the research costs to develop an advanced technology; the relationship is in essence that…”
“No need to…let me…that the more men who are under arms, the more they become expendable; moreover they’re less expensive to maintain or lose. By inference, that despite losses, if necessary, their sheer numbers alone would overwhelm any would be protagonist.
“And the Lebensborn’s’ were…?
“Possibly ingenious. They were a safeguard, a fallback, envisioned by the Reich Chancellor-if the s.o.b. wanted supermen, then, it makes sense…they produce more babies, preferably more boys-though girls would’ve eventually been thrown into the mix and in turn it meant more men, which…meant more soldiers. So you’re telling me that if, he had not led them down the proverbial garden path, that the alternate path they would have taken would have ultimately led to total world domination. Wait a second, there’s more here…lot’s more…when you woke up…you asked if it was me and then and then you said that you were pleased that we remained certainties.
“You’re smiling at me now …I know you are…because you were part of the bargain! Then the boy manipulated circ-umstances to get you as well?
“Yes, it is a sealed alliance to which I have faithfully adhered. However, I must confess that I am still troubled; especially with your analysis…specifically, that if I were you, that I would have envisioned something more…devious. However, there is ample time for you to reconcile your conclusions.
"Remember that I warned you of the treachery. Perhaps you would say that I am negatively inclined to accept an assumption of yours as it now stands. If I were you, I would seriously question my many negatives because the possibility exists, that in another reality, a dimension still unknown to us, that our doubles, opposite twins if you will, may now all be speaking….
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*Socratic Method…the process of asking questions to elicit a knowledgeable reply from another.
**Vardoger…is a ghostly double, who in Norse mythology, is seen doing the work of someone else. It is a decidedly less sinister vision than that of a…
***Doppelgänger…who is an exact double of the person it replaces but is specifically associated with bad luck, illness, death or in some instances…revenge.
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…,,Ja ja weiß ich, wir würde alle sprechen Deutsches. (Yes, yes, I know, I know, we’d all be speaking German). And that dad just begs the point; because now you’re being evasive on purpose and I know that you’re using double-entendres just to goad me. And what in the hell are the many negatives that you’re talking about now?
“So, you are irritated with me; good, it will serve as an inducement. The negatives I spoke of are those few found in my safe. When viewed in context they will reveal a greater secret. As you have the combination you may look for yourself; at any time.”
“Damn it you’re exasperating! I know what you’re implying. You expect me to just get up and leave you to go look so you can prove a point. No! I’m not going to! Why don’t you just tell me because unless its one hell of a whopper I’m not going to be inclined to change my opinion no matter how “negatively inclined” you might be with me right now.”
“Interesting, am I to infer then, that the explanation I would offer you, and its acceptance, is predicated upon the dimension of its deception? If so, prepare yourself. I have constantly told you that the devil is in the details; especially those omitted. That you recognize my use of a double-entendre to describe the child is laudable but it was not to evade, nor to dismay you, but rather to in part metaphorically open a door and explain.
“Please, you remain pre-occupied with the entity that repetitively appears in the mirror behind you. Justifiably, you are transfixed; however, the phenomenon herself implies that her presence will serve as the provoking basis of explanation.
“Now, appreciate the manifest that your mirror image, as are the others of substance, is three-dimensional, yet it also includes the unseen. Reasonably, you may ask what do I mean. What I suggest is that what it does not reveal; is what is vital to your life and all, which is contained within the life form of yourself. Of course, it also reflects those images, which you consider lifeless, if you will, inanimate; and sometimes, those which suddenly appear behind you as if out of thin air.”
“But then quite naturally, as if by nature, instantaneously, when you move, so does your mirror image; undeniably, it is always with you and by implication so too are those which remain hidden or suddenly disappear apparently to remain but are still unseen. I would caution that the mirror, regardless of reflection, would not lie to you; what it reflects is accurate.
“But we have come to the crux of the issue, as the image viewed is the exact opposite of you; in essence it is a reverse image of you; of either front or back. That is, as long as the perspective of your vantage point, does not change. However, what we view to either right or left of our image remains static as long as we do not flip-over 180 degrees. Of course, if we move…”
“Dad, I know all of this. If I move, then my mirror image will move with me because the relative position of the objects I view in the mirror will also change with my perspective; however, I will still be able to observe myself in the same three dimensions.”
“Precisely, therefore, the only aspect which is not viewed but remains as a relative constant is…”
“Time…we can’t see the time it takes us to move…we can only estimate it from a given frame of reference. Its duration is predicated upon our perception of what time actually is and what it actually constitutes within the fourth dimension.”
“Then you would agree that what we perceive or fail to perceive in an object, any object, though it is none-the-less present, is paramount to understanding or interpreting the true nature of another. ”
“Dad, why am I suddenly suspicious and have the sneaky feeling that you’re about to give me a good kick in the pants?”
“No, my legs are weary; I fear that that I will not be kicking anything in the pants for some time to come. What I will do however is endeavor to tie up the loose ends and allow you to reflect upon the following. Please, just listen.
“First…Joachem was the only exceptional…male…child born “alive” to Freida; there was another to account for: a stillborn female. Your flippant insight as to the Lebensborn’s was marginally correct. Aside from the obvious, the implication is unassailable; he was not an only child but her sole surviving and exact fraternal twin.
“Her failed delivery preceded his birth by mere seconds. As a codicil, I would add that her death was not through an act of nature; the child was murdered. Though Freida had accurately addressed the blame, it was then considered of little consequence and what paltry regrets offered to her at the time was, by her, scornfully and justifiably dismissed. By all standards, a female had indeed been “thrown into the mix;" though far earlier than had been projected.
“Dad…that’s the umpteenth time that you’ve alluded to something which is eerily out of ordinary. Why do you always do that to me? No matter what it is, just when your about to tell me something important you allude to something else.”
,,Peter, vielleicht ist es ein Ruse, zum Sie weiter zu besteuern, oder möglicherweise ist es, das offensichtliche zu übermitteln (Peter, possibly it is a ruse to tax you further or perhaps it is to meant to convey the obvious). That the negatives, which I have alluded to, are exceptional, as each has somehow captured the essence of our unnoticed surroundings and are expository; moreover, when viewed in context, what they depict is, incontrovertible. What they portray are the visible and concomitant invisible reflections, of what in time surround us, and of which we are painfully unaware. To be succinct, they depict the image of an additional child: to be precise that of a young female, who does not appear on the photograph itself. Folglich was herausgestellt wird, ist entschieden aus dem üblichen heraus: wenn Sie werden, selbst eine Projektion des Unbekannten (Therefore, what is exposed is decidedly out of the ordinary: if you will, herself a projection of the unknown).
“However, to answer your allegorical questions before they are posed, “Yes, there are other images and negatives; and each exacts an identical result. Yes, that regardless of Joachem’s age, when photographed, the image taken was marred while its companion negative presented decidedly more. Yes, the preponderance of the negatives was incontrovertible in clarity. Nein, in einigem, die Verunstaltung stand bereitwillig abgesehen von dem Jungen während in anderen, welche die Veränderung einkapseln ihn erschien (No, in some, the blemish stood readily apart from the boy while in others the variation appeared to encapsulate him). Nein, in jedem, das, das bildlich dargestellte Wesen negativ ist, hat dementsprechend mit dem Jungen gealtert. Es ist, wenn sie abgebunden wurden. (No, in each negative, the entity depicted has aged accordingly with the boy. It is if they were bonded). And yes, while other individuals, including his mother, viewed each; all, except for his mother and me, summarily dismissed them.
“Shall I continue? You nod without hesitation, good.
“Peter, allow the moment and look studiously at your mirror image while considering the obvious. Was Sie ansehen, ist Ihr genaues Duplikat (What you view is your exact duplicate). Jedes Detail, jede gebildete Bewegung, jede Nuance, die versteckt wird, jede Verunstaltung, unten zu kleiden, das Sie tragen, ist ein genaues Faksimile von selbst (Every detail, every movement made, every nuance which is hidden, every blemish, down to the clothe you wear is an exact facsimile of yourself). Wenn Sie irgendwie in der Lage waren, buchstäblich heftig zu zerreißen, ist es vom Spiegel und zu haben Standplatz neben Ihnen; außer selbst wie würde sonst jemand wissen, welches der zwei Sie war? (If you were somehow able to literally tear it from the mirror and have it stand beside you; except for yourself, how would anyone else know which of the two was you)? I would surmise that you would readily agree that no one could possibly tell the difference. After all, each would be indistinguishable from the other as there would be no margin for error; however slight. Now I will take the illustration one-step further.
"What mischief would you wreak if both you and your mirror image were able to interact either simultaneously or separately in this world with others?
“I see the beginning of a smile. Only now do you begin to understand what I am alluding to; that there is a parallel state of altered existence, which exists simultaneously in another dimension parallel to our own. Moreover, that if one possess the ability to access it one could alter the state of existence in either of the two upon a whim and that an entity, one that is hell-bent upon a course of action, would be no less than redoubtable: especially if it, or he, or she, is also able to traverse time. Perhaps one is a consequence of the other, but as time is relative, your individual comings and goings would be virtually indistinguishable by others. Likewise, your replacement, could at a moments notice, if you will, with but a blink of an eye, replace you and who would be the wiser? Es ist eine faszinierende Möglichkeit, besonders wenn die instrumentierte Scharade als Vorläufer zu einem in Aussicht Fall ist: ein mit einem höheren Zweck im Verstand. Ein besonders, nach dem alles ist, wagered (It is an intriguing possibility especially if the orchestrated charade is as a precursor to an event in the offing: one with a higher purpose in mind. Especially one upon which all is wagered).
“I can see it in your eyes, you have something to say.”
“So the child we’re speaking of is truly an exact opposite; at least the one which you say is shown on the negatives. But the other one, who also appears the same, is able to interact in more than three worlds simultaneously: the past, the then present and the oncoming future but is also able to access another dimension, parallel to our own, in which he is able to view, if not enact, a reasonable cause and effect.”
“For the most you are correct. The mirror image is female in gender while the boy is decidedly male though entirely attuned with his opposite. However, I surmise that the cost of such compatibility comes with considerable expense; at times, one’s personal identity may be marginalized. Proceed.”
"So that means that he or is it his mirror image, or is it his sister, which is able to interact with anyone? No wait…why stop at two…crap…all three could do it. But I’m missing something else…if the child of the future is, is, what?... responsible...for it all…that means that he’s the one that can change what does or doesn’t occur. Christ dad that’s almost… godlike isn’t it? Oh, shit…what you’re implying is not what I’m thinking is it? Well? I’m waiting."
“No. What I am implying is that Homer’s ode is accurate. That at one time, those, to whom he ascribed supernatural powers, such as Athena, existed. Of course, the relationship of those beings to mortal men is renowned, if only in the many allegories of the time. That they were also promiscuous and found earthly comfort, wherever or whenever the opportunity afforded, is also well known. However, the child was not an offspring of such a union; instead, he is the necessary corollary of faith in which the one who stands behind you has trusted.
“Dad, wait a second you just lost me.”
“Peter, I will make an effort to be brief as I tire but it has taken me years to connect the dots. I will not debate the existence of the one who stands behind you. Nor will I debate her complicity in the death of Hectors son, Astyanax, as she was the root cause. Yet, if the one is evident then the other is also within the sphere of recognition. Nor, will I deny what I have experienced, to do so would be a contravention of my agreement with the boy. The boy exists and is the result of her acuity: even if belated.
“From experience I have learned that even angels in waiting are not without the ability to convey or cajole what they desire, if not long for, to another; especially one who will…
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…listen unconditionally and perhaps in some manner, assist. Of course, one such truly pentitient entity could perhaps, with a submission, be cajoled to act as well, assuming she was at last of a specific nature to do so?
“Peter, understandably, for those many in penitence, or sadly, even to a certain angel, whose tears have long run dry, if it truly is the unthinkable, which is sought, perhaps more than the mundane, obligatory act, of silent contrition is necessary; one which would involve considerable peril. Stillschweigend ist die Unterstellung unvermeidlich, ist die zu jedem erheblichen wager dort beträchtliche Gefahr, dennoch unleugbar, wenn erfolgreich, wurde Bestehen… zweifellos… Löschenlöschung (Tacitly, the insinuation is inescapable, that to every substantial wager there is considerable risk, yet undeniably, if successful, existence would…most certainly…cancel extinction). To entertain the thought may well be antithetical yet I…suggest…it is an option.
“Regrettably however, malice and spite have long swayed both; though of the two, she understands, that the greater mendacity is contained within her continued reflection. Nichtsdestoweniger stellt das wer hinter Ihnen steht, nur jetzt mit meinen Wörtern fest, daß das Kind selbst das klatschsüchtige Herz geworden ist (Nonetheless, the one who stands behind you, only now with my words, realizes that the child himself has become the telltale heart). Regretfully, at this moment, it is also clear to her that the two remain at odds and neither through time has been moved; nor that if conditions remain unaffected, will they ever.
“Athena, to be certain, attentively, as would any mother, the boy has been and is now yours to protect; but until this moment, with just cause, that sentiment has not been reciprocated; der der Grund wir ist, sind hier und das Motiv hinter Ihren wiederholten äusserungen: anhaltende Schuld; so beträchtlich und grundlegend, dem es Sie verbraucht (that is the reason we are here and the motive behind your repeated manifestations: guilt; so vast and basic that it consumes you). Es bleibt… und ist das unseen Wesen innerhalb Ihrer Reflexion, die Sie stört (It remains…and is the unseen entity within your reflection, which perturbs you). That is what I understand.
,, Ich habe Sie lang erwartet, innen auf mir zu schauen gelegentlich, aber ich bin überrascht, daß es dieses lange genommen hat; schließlich suchen Sie die Wissen I Gruppen zu einem Ende (I have long expected you to look in on me and surprised that it has taken this long; after all, you seek the knowledge I posses to an end). With impertinence, I would ask the rhetorical question, “What took you so long?”
“How extraordinary that while you claim the boy as your own, it is his own compassion towards your likeness that becomes the ineffable key; while it is your action, or lack thereof, that will ultimately resolve the matter. For unless he is swayed, the definitive cause is lost, as are loves labours and despite the best of intentions, however intangible, the coldness remains. Die ich sinnen würde, das möglicherweise während einer Ewigkeit sie nicht beendet; aber andererseits, möglicherweise ist der Mann der Wissenschaft in der Störung… der mit Bemühung…das sie wurde. (I would muse, that perhaps for an eternity it will not end; but then again, perhaps the man of science is in error…that with effort…it would. Jedoch diese Möglichkeit gegeben, wird es ein Frage der Zeit und mitfühlend haben Sie ihm andere überlassen, um zu versöhnen (However, given that possibility, it becomes a matter of time and pitifully you have left it to another to reconcile). I would expect more from one such as you.
,,Bitte… gibt es keine Notwendigkeit, sich weg unter diesen Umständen zu drehen; Sie sind hier, während an diesem Moment die Würfel geworfen werden sollen (Please...there is no need to turn away at this juncture; you are here while at this very moment the dies are to be cast). Nun da ich wenig habe, nach links zum zu verlieren und ich fürchte nicht mehr Ihre Augen; was würden Sie mich mit einem Blick, erschrecken mich als kleines Kind antun? (Now that I have little left to lose and I no longer fear your eyes; what would you do to me with a look, frighten me as a little child)? Soll ich Sie wieder fürchten? (Shall I fear you again)? Nein, nicht an diesem Moment, nie wieder und zweifellos nicht in den Toten der Nacht (No, not at this moment and most certainly not in the dead of night). I think therefore that I am, however, considering the matter...I think not.
,,Athene, bewerten den Moment, den das Kind, das Sie einmal zusammenfassend entließen, wieder nach dem Abgrund der Zeit schaukelt: während überlegung zu oder zu anderem, besonders das, das mit Zweck…… ein wile Gedicht hören würde (Athena, value the moment that the child whom you once dismissed, again teeters upon the precipice of time: while musing to himself or others, especially the one, who would with purpose…listen…a wile poem). One self-proscribed and so entitled that from what would ensue, I have sworn my silence and will not tell for some are truly Heaven bound…whilst to countless and unmentioned others the unappealing alternative is…certain Hell. Shall you stand as in the past aloof, so constrained and above the fray? That unenviable choice is yours.
,,Zweifellos nehmen Sie, vor allem andere, ihn wieder erleben einen Moment wahr, der fated gewesen ist; und jedoch, allerdings vorübergehend blind gemacht, ist die offenkundige Verantwortlichkeit Ihre, da eine so passend genannt in Ihren Augen ewig als gekennzeichneter Sohn des Tyrannen bleibt: wer auch für Freigabe aber plädieren würde, also wird Ehrengrenze mit schworene, nicht und durch Notwendigkeit, kann nicht. (Unquestionably, you, above all others, perceive he relives a moment that has been fated; and however, even so temporarily blinded, the manifest accountability is yours, as one so aptly named shall remain in your eyes eternally as Hector’s marked son: who too would plead for release but so honor bound with a vow, will not and by necessity, cannot). Möglicherweise ist eine wechselseitige Tätigkeit notwendig? (Conceivably, a reciprocal action is necessary)? What I intimate is conceivably in his best interest as yours. Do you understand?
“Circ-umspectively therefore, I would task that it falls to you, to, in some fathomable manner, intercede.
“Athena, truthfully, such a persistant spirit as you, could in time, position herself, to hold what is most desired especially if the object of your hunt came to suddenly stand before you both altruistically yet still in need. Consider, that in life, it has often been my experience that the direct approach, regardless of intent, will, in many instances, not suffice; however, that if offered, a second, likewise conceivable alternative, would be of greater assistance. If I were of like mind, I would pursue the most attractive substitute; by appearance, it would tender the path of least resistance.
“However, as we are here, shall I now plead to you or for him for this to end?
“At this moment, you know better. Personally, I now prefer the latter and hope that he would accept my correspondence as an article of faith in exchange for the promise of silence he had past garnered, as now the cost to all would exceed that envisioned.
“I would simply offer the reflections that at this moment it is wiser to forgive to forget. The latter is the corollary of the pledge to which you would adhere.” Now, as you would do to me it is time for you to l…”
Dad, excuse me, but the battery on this recorder is about to go on the fritz. Look…we only have a couple of minutes left…but I gotta ask you…who are you talking to? I mean I know that I’m in the room with you but the vision in the mirror…well…she just isn’t there any more. Besides it’s been like you’ve actually been talking past me to more than one person at a time. Please, let me get this recharged so…”
“No need. There is little left to relay.”
“Oh no you don’t…you’re not going to do it to me again…'cause I know what you did. You’ve just literally chummed the water. Dad why in the hell’d you just excoriate her?
“Wonderful, you admit her existence.”
“Dad I’ll admit that I know what I think I saw. Besides which I know that you were trying to get at her. But why do it now when you’re supposedly on such good terms when you met her before…no that didn’t come out right did it? You said that the years you have yet to travel in time to meet her is about ten years from now so why did you do what you just did now?
“As a mediator I did what was required…I offered a course of action to one in need. Of course, I must admit…I had…some timely and decidedly inside information. It would seem the boy would leave nothing to chance, besides he does not like to lose. Why do you look so? Did you really think that my participation in this matter was confined to but a single action? I have told you repeatedly that the devil was in the details, especially those omitted.
“However, the answer to the first of your many questions is yes, yes and yes. Yes, there are others and yes there is a course of action to which I have alluded; however if successful, that event will take place in time. Of course, by then I will be but a memory; that is why your action to phone the number I have provided is critical, as the boy on this matter, who will ultimately stand in judgement, has sworn himself to silence.”
“Dad for once, please, just tell me what the hell is going on?”
“Very well, listen. Time as we understand it, for now, is linear. To angels in penitence, existence, for its duration is linear as well: unless the time of release is at hand. To one so constrained, who cannot move freely in time, as would a certain child, the impetus of uncertainty is both provoking and daunting. The underlying implication therefore is that she has no knowledge of what shall occur because the event has yet to take place. For all intent and purpose, she has no awareness of our future meeting. Fittingly, mindfully without knowledge, the goddess of wisdom exists and is so punished.
“However, the time of release for such an entity is contingent upon expiation; if you will it is the payment for release. Peter that is no small task and virtually impossible to achieve moreover the price paid is unlike the debt that all men pay: death. No, there is but one item that would suffice.
“It is most precious and distilled; flowing from both man and woman alike, but it is ignored, literally wiped away by most without a thought. Some rise skyward after they fall, dried with suns light or are moved upon a breeze: while others, discarded, are consigned to refuse. However, in higher circles, it is virtually priceless as there: it is both incalculable in worth and self-sustaining; it is the “Pardoning Tear.”
“How one would obtain the tear is in itself purposely intimidating at best. The tear is one that must tendered by both aggressor and aggrieved and literally brought to Heaven’s ruler Himself for judgement; otherwise, a very long and unpleasant eternity awaits and it is most unforgiving. To one who cannot cry it would be impossibile; unless, a particulary inventive and gentle soul in some manner assisted.
“You see, both are on a quest and the pursued is unaware of the hunt but the boy has taken the first step and waits only for her.
“Hmmm, does it appear that the battery on the recorder will actually fail shortly? Oh, by the way, there is one other relatively small item to note, did I ever tell you that God just loves to play backgammon?
“Rumor has it that he never, if ever, looses. Actually, I must consider this aspect further…if you will…just a second more…a second more…ha…ha…ha…ha…ha…ha…heh…heh…ho…ho..ho…ho…oh my…what chutzpah!”
“DAD!! Wh…”
Mother halts her recitation and looks up, her now obviously dry lips are in need. Wetting both with a roll of her tongue, she cautiously continues with, “Evidently, evidently, that’s where the recording stops, but there’s more. Let me finish.”
Right now, none of us is of a mind to interrupt, besides, the pain in my stomach is almost gone and for once, I’m feeling pretty decent. It’s been awhile but Christine butts into my head and is teasing me again…all I can do is peevishly whisper back at her with, "No, Christine, I didn’t mean that I thought that I looked pretty…o.k…o.k…o.k…have it your way…yea we’re mirror images and I do look pretty alright? Satisfied? Good…now shut up and let her finish!"
At least Melina hasn’t put her two cents worth in but she’s still looking at me like a lamb chop ‘cause she giving me a wink and a smile…oh jeez…maybe I can research this a little more before…Mom’s voice breaks my train of thought with:
“March 7, 2008…11:30 P.M. Mrs. Markison, up until fathers passing he adamantly refused to explain this flippancy. Instead of an explanation, he left me a portion of a poem and another riddle to consider. The words of the poem he left me with were, “A decicion, in yourself to trust, a second more, than I you must.” Of course, I inquired as to their meaning. However, instead of a straightforward answer, as has been the case, repeatedly where this entire matter is concerned, he blithely smiled at me and said, and I will quote, “When he looks within me with his jeweler’s eye I shall proudly stand complicit and smiling…a second more.”
Respectfully, if you were aware of its meaning I would ask for an explanation. I would close my familys uncalled for intrusion into your affairs; no doubt, other, more pressing matters now concern you. However, I would reiterate his apprehension with you and the ultimate cost of failure to us all. Peter.
For several thoughtful moments Mom…
-
remains pensively silent. Her conspicuous appearance is one of nervous apprehension as she sits…waiting…for some type of clue. Not as to what she would do (for there is little) but as to what she would say, which, with any luck will suffice. The communiqué she’s just read has explained much. Moreover, it infers, that with a particular vow of silence, taken once upon a time and not so long ago, she must understand that I have always remained true to my word; besides, the accord has more than been satisfied by whom I then chose to confide in. I wish him no ill as…
For the most part the scheme was mine…well actually…all things considered…ours…but it was mostly me so…I…accept the responsibility for it all. But I must admit to myself that…Herr Werner’s additional thoughts to me are chilling…that the consequence of failure found in Judgement is frightening; yet the die had been cast and all I can do now is believe that the truth will out and that he, in the end, will be held blameless.
Regretfully, the personage of Herr Werner Maximillian will be, for the moment, painfully absent of that knowledge. However, with a blink of an eye, it will be a brief journey back. My silent whisper in his ear before he sleeps will lift that dread; so that as he enters the Great Hall of Introspective Judgement and is moved to stand before Him, a second more than usual, he can, without fear, smile; it is the least I would do for him. As for Peter’s request for information, it too must be honored; but as he asked it of Mother, it is her obligation to explain.
Shortly, the inevitable questions that Mother would ask, if she still has the presence of mind to ask them, are to be expected; but I wonder; are they cogent? Perhaps this moment will mark her new beginning or all but guarantee our collective end as now the inevitable time of decision has arrived.
All the clues she needs are at hand and in these salient moments, it is obvious that she still seeks to answer me without actually choosing: incorrectly…how human. Of course, with little effort I could ease my mind, and hers, and be certain that all will end fortuitously. But as it (the result) as Herr Werner has counseled, now involves countless others who are known, I am inclined to agree with him. What is more, is that I will remain true to my vow of never seeking further information concerning either Melina or her Mother…unless I am so tasked.
Nonetheless, the question remains as previously posed; how will she decide and what is the rational for her choice? All I want now is a reply and she does not disappoint me as she peevishly begins with…
“So, the devil is in the details especially those omitted.” Pray tell, how many more details have gone astray? If I am to believe what I have now remembered let alone read, and I do, what I value about your name is…that a given name, upon hearing it, will spur countless recollections; some of which are decidedly unpleasant if not remorsefully shameful. You have more than proved your point.” Mother pauses for but a moment then continues.
“Still, with that admission and comprehension, you continue to look at me, but now with strangely glinting eyes, demanding a decision to which I have been forwarned, if made, would cause incalculable loss. How odd that you would continue upon this avenue unless even She who had counseled me to refrain also sought to insure, by my committed action, that fateful decisions realization. Is that the case?”
I remain silent and allow her to resolve the seething inner conflict.
“Have it your way…don’t answer me. Despite all, it appears that you have gone to great lengths leaving me little, to no choice, in the matter and would compel me to choose though I have been instructed to do otherwise. The forgotten memories, those you have prompted, are recollections that may well have served to additionally fuel the fire between us; but for some reason, I now think otherwise. How odd that Werner Maximillian would claim that it would be wiser to forgive to forget when even he might counsel that in some instances that it is “better to forget to forgive without uncertainty.” But how would I know that?
“Obviously, from some memories, especially my own, I admit, that my shrewish and meddlesome ways towards Elias drove him from my arms. Would that I had cried but one tear for him then I would have…but now these many years later…my tears are countless and that I begin to grieve so, that upon each, all that I may ponder, are the endless possibilities of what if…if…I had a second chance, with him to do otherwise, without condition I would do so. If only…my tears now were not useless and that you cease to live the moment repeatedly.
“Hmph, but now, to me, it is evident, that you and he have conversed at great lengths and that the prescient gift to Werner from the “Children of the Narrows” originated at your command as in essence, it is with your knowledge, that you are constantly aware that you were or have been all three: if not so many more. As for the three pens whose wells you claim will not run dry, I understand the analogy and simile. Three pens laid beside each other are parallel and evidently equivalent yet one is…is…the exceptional marvel. The question is to discern which…allow me a second more to consider my conclusion.”
The Gallery of the Gods, as I, in unison, nod our consent as she continues.
“Surreptitiously, you then entrusted two pens to your sister, Aeron, with the stipulation that they were to be “timely gifts.” That too is not lost upon me. My precious and most cunning child, I understand that all, which occurred thereafter, was most carefully arraigned.
“To position a rendevous along the strassa, you provided Aeron with timely information then proceeded to have her instigate the meeting in the park. From that moment, recognizing that your then father, Frederich, would take revenge upon those who were at fault in both your sister’s death as well as he, whom you in time recognized, that in another life, had also slain you as Elias; you advanced to become the core of it all. He was the first of many who had perished that night. Your inevitable settling of scores had begun. Seig Heil. Ich vertraue, daß es nicht pyric ist. (I trust it is not pyric).
“Furthermore, from what I have gleaned, given Werner’s insight, if accurate, and I have no reason now to doubt it, that the demands made upon Freida as written by him…were at your behest…but were specifically directed at me; as I too comprehend that you, in each encounter, were the governing singularity of which he spoke. Moreover, that the many angels who repeatedly visited Joachem were in fact you; it could not have been otherwise.
“Yet, before I decide I would ask one question, how could you, how could you do such a thing to him? How many times did it take to convince that child to do what he did? You used Joachem to obtain what: me? I would say killed but I cannot rest easy with that thought: it is alarming and disquieting. Will you answer, why in Heaven or on earth did you do this to him?”
“Mother, at every turn, I just did what was necessary: especially because I knew, he in fact, loved you. But remember that by extension what I did was actually to me.”
“What did you say? NECESSARY? Loved me? By extension? I understand your inference and that is impossible…he never knew ME! Why do you speak to me of what was necessary when the result has been at such a cost? Are you so callous a child?”
“Am I callous? Perhaps you may consider me as such, but then again…you…are my wellspring. Am I not an image of your conception; your perfect reflection and creation of choice?”
“Listen closely, I told you the truth…I “just” did what was necessary, as time, is of no consequence; to me it is a given and it exists to be used endlessly. A second more or less to you, in retrospect, is meaningless, is it not? What could possibly happen in a second? Mother, do you know how many years can one travel in a second? The rhetorical answer is…as many that are want.
“Besides, I did nothing but afford him, through your embrace, a moment of clarity, by offering comparative alternatives, through which he understood that the circ-umstances in which we found ourselves were untenable. To him, us, there was no other option available.
“As a result, he would do anything to have her hold him once more; as you yourself have so recently done…anything. Don’t look so surprised Mother; keep in mind that if two objects may occupy the same location in time and space so can two traveling souls. How many angels can dance on the head of a pin…the answer is…as many that are want to.
I smile as I continue, “Remember, just recently, in your arms, he found from you what I have always sought in your words…your tender love. I admit that I was jealous, so reluctantly, it was, as a last resort that I agreed to facilitate his recommended course of action. Besides, you are still unaware of many details.”
Before Mother can react, I continue with, “Please, understand that the price I have paid was reluctantly tendered, because…despite everything which was done…I understood that he actually found that he loved…you…and could not bear to part. Besides, in that same moment, he also understood father’s inherent nature for vengeance and his capacity to realize it. So I admit…I just used the opportunity afforded me.
“Understand it was his additional insight to me that time itself would diverge upon a thought. The question to you dear Mother, is, which, is the thought, to you, that counts? A wrong selection now can be most grave.”
“However, before you reply, I would inform you that of us three, Joachem was by far the most vocal, articulating that forever being held at arms length from what was most desired: the acceptance found within the warm embrace of of a mother’s arms and her love; was both cruel, if not decidedly inhuman; we concurred. But, in order to have you once again, he understood that he must first lose in time that which was dearest to him at the opportune moment. Therefore, with but one reservation we agreed.”
“Reservation? I don’t understand. What reservation are you speaking or inferring to now? Every time I think, I understand there is more to consider which confounds me further. What possible reservation can exist when it is obvious that you even managed to have Maximillian prompt the night visitor, Athena herself, to first pursue the most conceivable alternative available: your sister in lieu of yourself.”
“Yes, that was a means to an end but consider that I had no knowledge of actually if or when She would appear; the choice to act was hers alone and fraught with considerable danger. In that instance, She took the chance herself so that if either She or I had failed…well…with condemnation some things are better left unsaid. Now, are you ready to decide or do you still require a second more?”
Her nod affords me the oppportunity to continue. “Oh, if it’s of any importance to you, there was that one other reservation, which Joachem asked. It was…well…never written…he…well…through me…specifically kind of then asked Freida about it and it still kind of…sorta…lingers in my mind. I, uhh, well would really want to know…you know…so…so…would you care to…uhh…answer it? Well maybe you did and I just didn’t hear because now I choose to believe that you did not purposely turn a deaf ear towards his desires. So? Will you?
"You know that I can prompt the memory and preface that it was in the carriage upon her return from the diner. You’ve got to remember that Freida’s overriding and instinctive concern was understandably with me and most assuredly not with Herr Maximillian. You’ve got to remember that everyone was all uptight and stuff. I remember that and that even at the time she was, towards me, most…uhh…uhh…caring? Do you remember?
“No, I remember no such thing. What I do remember is that Hans chose the worst possible time to enter when he spoke to Herr Maximillian.”
"Well then do you sort of remember what he said?”
“Yes, yes I do. Amazingly enough I do. I even remember the sweat pouring off his brow and the nervous odor his uniform reeked of when he barged in fumbling and almost stammering in an effort not to be cowed by disturbing Maximillians privacy. Poor dear, he was quite in earnest, Hans that is. Maximillian, at the time, always had an air about him, which was most attractive if not intimidating to some. But to answer your question yes I do remember what he said.
“Hans barged in as any good soldier would, physically presenting the fascade of invulnerability, almost impossible to do with sweat rings about the armpits and immediately snapped to attention…but when he proceeded to speak the lads voice broke two…no…three times when he meekly inquired, ,,Herr Maximillian… sind wir… wir uns nähern Weimer…das ich Ihre Aufträge bestätigen muß. Tun Sie… Sie… noch… wünschen mich Herr Hovan und Frau Kohler weg vom Zug werfen? (Herr Maximillian…we are…we are approaching Weimer…I must confirm your orders. Do you…do you…still…want me to throw Herr Hovan and Frau Kohler off the train?)’’
“Maximillian didn’t bat an eye and immediately barked his reply of, ,,Ja selbst wenn es nicht stoppt. (Yes even if it doesn’t stop). That is what I remember. As for caring, no, at the time, I cared little for Maximillian but I more than cared for another.
“I cared more for the child who sat withered before me who with eyes closed mumbled nonsense, which to a mother merited no reply. How does a mother reply to the murmurs of an ashen faced child in the midst of a nightmare from which he can not be awakened? I did not turn a deaf ear to the question, „Wenn ich starb, würden Sie bitte sein meine Mamma wieder?“ (If I died, would you please be my mommy again?)” Understand as I held Joachem in my arms he would not wake. I never thought to voice my reply...all I could do was nod…
-
in bewilderment and instinctively consider the obvious of which I had pondered in the diner: that the child who slumped shattered before me could not possibly have been my own but instead a clever substitute, a frightening surrogate to which as a mother left me wondering of what had become of my own Joachem. Where had he gone, who was this supplanted child and who was his mother?
“My uncertainty in the moment was evident and I paused to further consider, that if this child were mine, instead of hers, what would I do? Would I dare to touch or even hold such a mortal; conversely, would she be disposed to hold him herself…or even my own in his stead… as I now considered doing?
“At that very moment, I most certainly made no attempt to hide my angry looks at Maximillian and if my eyes could have killed anyone with a glance, they would have, and without a doubt, he would have been the first. I knew my child was lost and I was powerless; but what could I do or say; disown the child and claim a mother’s intuition, on what grounds? No, I knew little of Maximillian and far less of many others and to claim such would have provoked further, if not fatal, scrutiny; if not by him, then most certainly by others more powerful. Considering our mutual circ-umstances, it was wiser to remain silent rather than further risk the child or myself.
“It was then that I contemptuously accepted “his” list of ostensible desires and briefly read each without comment; whereupon he immediately and awkwardly excused himself red-faced, claiming a prior engagement, thus leaving me in the carrirage alone to ponder the moment, which I did. Hans again assumed his position outside the carriage doors. I sought the privacy of the moment and rose, drew the curtains closed and sat once again, but this time opposite the child.
There I remained for some time, unmoving, and while I thought to cry, I could not bring myself to do so. Silently, I hated everything, which had occurred from the night of the damned brownshirted SA to then; believing that all had conspired against me and I cursed the miserable fool that I had become. At some point, perhaps only minutes later, I thought to re-read each item, but this time…carefully. I thought it odd that one so astute as Maximillian would preface the note as he did and then ask such things of me, a total stranger, when all he had to do in that moment, as had many others, was to reach out and take what he wanted. I quandered, how could he presume such?
“Moreover, how could he dare that I promise to always love him more than anyone else while he knew that my heart belonged to another: if not to my husband but to my only child? For some reason, I immediately thought the second desire endearingly trusting…as a professed playground promise asked of a possible suitor; innocent in nature. But even that was subject to conjecture for by his own hand he had prefaced and foresworn any such intentions towards me. Reasonably, the third left little to my imagination; as my anger with Maximillian at the time was boundless and I thought it appropo. But why would any practical, if not calculating man of science, ask this of a stranger? It made little sense and the fourth was stranger still, of how or why would I keep a promise to him, the self-professed man of science, until the end of time; unless he too was privy to information that I was not. Instinctively, the fundamental answer was clear, that the demands could not have been his but anothers.
Once again, I sifted each word spoken in my presence, especially those spoken by whom Maximillian thought to be Joachem. Conspicuously his expression of “My first obligation is to my mother,” while spoken in earnest, was most engaging, but most certainly were not Joachems words. As a mother I understood they were instead the changling’s.
"Reasonably, you would ask how I would know such a thing. The answer is simple. Until that moment, never once did my Joachem utter that word claiming me as his mother; pending that moment, he feared me, refused to speak it, and as such, the word had never passed his uncertain and tongue tied lips. It was not and could not have been my Joachem who spoke with clarity it was another. It had to be the replicant child.
“It was clear that Maximillian and others, so empowered, viewed this child as more than prescient: moreover, that none of which the child relayed, of past lives, or of future occurances, could be discounted; except at great peril. However, the greater peril, at that moment, was to a child, who for some reason was in desperate need of reassurance and that child now sat alone and in need and had come to ask of me something in return.
"Understandably, what was required I offered in the gentle silence of the moment. I moved to sit beside him and then most tenderly lifted him and cradled him in my arms while singing to him the only tune which at that instant crossed my mind; the Lullaby of Brahms.
“It was at that moment that dear Maximillian chose to reenter the carriage, unannounced, and for sometime said nothing, as he sat opposite the two of us. He merely looked on. Though he tried to speak, I shook my head and declined his effort.
“Sometimes a mother knows that there can be no words offered in consolation that would suffice and that the whispered sweet nothings of comfort a mother would offer to one in need would only fall on the deaf ears of a still and lifeless child; all of which would be inadequate to the moment.
“Therefore, to answer your question yet again, no, I did not merely care for the child. Despite all, in that moment, I found I loved him all pulled him closer while wishing a promise that if he ever came to me in need again, for whatever the reason, that I would indulge the moment and as a baby so pamper him. Now however, on that matter, it would appear that we are at ends. Perhaps it would explain to you in part why at times I find it essential to baby you as I do; obviously, it remains an inherent need to us both which has carried forward. However, in many ways you remain a child in need; especially of an answer to which I am now prepared to indulge.”
As Mother presses the first finger of her right hand to my lips and whispers, “Now hush and listen,” I in turn wipe but one significant tear from her eyes.
The Gallery of the Gods understands, it is Joachem, who now hurries home with his treasure. Inside it is quiet and I find that I am at last all alone.
-
Alone with only Astyanax, who remains poignantly silent, to consider the obvious: of what comes next, for if the devil is in the details, especially those omitted, then the most glaring of omissions remains hidden. Mother’s intuitive suppositions, at least those remembered, are mildly gratifying but the salient question remains unanswered. If she really loved me, why did she do the things she did: especially to me, repeatedly? Oh sure I know, sometimes things don’t turn out all that well but damn it not all the time. It’s not supposed to be like that is it? Maybe I’m just not ready to listen to what Herr Maximillian was trying to tell me…about forgiving and forgetting…but then again…if I don’t listen…no one is going to be any better off and all of this’ll start again and I really don’t want to do this anymore. All I really want is just to…
Listen as Mother interrupts and asks, “Christopher, are you now so lost in thought.” I merely nod not wishing to speak…I need to wait for “him” to appear; of the two, he’s really the only one left who has the missing pieces and who can …
“Please me,” she continues, may we begin anew? I would inquire most respectfully of your thoughts on this matter. I acknowledge my failings and realize the suffering I have caused. Would it be otherwise, I would in some manner, have already made it so. However, that moment is past and I cannot.
“That I would hide you from greater harm, for a time as a girl, is no fault of my own. It is the course, which, for some time, you yourself have moved towards and have agreed to take. I ask, that if possible, that you allow the moments found in that disquise to pass without rancor and learn. It would appear that we both have secrets, which remain concealed. Nevertheless, as a mother, I understand the perplexed look on your face is in part fueled by circ-umstances of which you too are yet unaware. I would caution patience as such matters tend to eventually resolve themselves.
“Is it irony that by your standard, with cause, you all but loathed me but still came and asked of me to decide upon a course that would determine our fates; and, would seek comfort from me as troubled as I was then, but not now? I think not. Have you learned nothing from all of this? Unfortunately, it would appear that your antipathy of me is in contradiction to what you have sought, if not actually desire. Moreover, that you constantly refer to yourself in the third person is evident and that Maximillians observation is correct; by your own actions, you have in part lost your identity.
“Consequently, you search not only for what remains of it but also for something you consider more important though far less tangible: the security found in constant reassurance; especially mine. Otherwise, we would not be discussing this matter; therefore, I must draw the obvious conclusion that you still do not trust me; and we are once again at an impasse.
“Regrettably, it would appear that my trust remains predicated upon an act; very well. Perhaps that too shall be made evident. Therefore, I concede the moment and will explain what I find, not only significant in your name; but then come to a decision, the result of which, you so caution, could be catastrophic. I would surmise that…”
That thought will be held and unvoiced for a moment longer as…“he”… has finally chosen to appear. At first, his harsh voice interrupts her; and is in stark contradiction to that of Father’s familiar manner. It is neither gentle nor mannerly; but it is unmistakably, “him.” It is the voice accustomed to command, which draws our attention and is declarative, though raspy, at the onset.
“Athena, silence, do not reflect aloud for you have not fully grasped the scope of his deception. For the moment, your calm is the course better served to all. Consider now, from what I have gleaned, if only from listening from a distant haze, that his relentless and unremitting expedition has surpassed even that spoken of by Homer. The child is a master of deceit, infinite guile and of ultimate ruin: incredible attributes for an eternal youth to whom I proudly voice and would claim yet again as my own.”
He looks down at me and continues with, “Is that not what you expect of me; my confirmation? As always, you wait and watch me. Athena, the boy awaits a conclusion, in many respects as fateful as that day when I first cast him from the cliffs overlooking the Hellspont to fall and lie shattered upon the rocks below. Of all else, only for that, am I regretful. But now, I am moved to speak with cause otherwise all this will end; and not well.
“Consider, that among all mortals who then ventured upon sea or land, that except for Herakles, it was I alone, who dared venture into Hades and return alive. Moreover, while there did I speak with the mighty Achilles as well as Tiresias.* It was at Tiresias’ suggestion, that I, Odysseus, instigated the accord now before us, struck in that moment of desperation, otherwise; all would be lost to us forever.
“But first, Brisa, descendant of my ghostly compatriot, sharp-tongued woman that you have become, value this, that I once wore what previously belonged to your vaunted ancestor: his armor, it now lies where I buried it; beneath the barren shores beyond the Pillars of Hercules. There, until such time that I so deem, will it remain. That you are here now is by my design though it is his armor, which is the basis through which this has transpired. I will explain this first and as I do consider, that your continued silence will be of benefit to us all.”
I muse that Brisa has moved backwards with his words not wishing to provoke a man whose eyes now glare in the anticipation of a coming moment. I have seen both looks before. Hers is the look of realization of what ruin would come her way. While his is is not only the ravenous glare of a warrior, released, who would advance upon his hapless foe, feeding upon his fear as he draws near, and then dispatching him with delight; but also that of the warrior king, who, without question, will speak and be heard. If the entire world is a stage, it is his moment upon it and with a regal look about the room, that speaks volumes, he silently commands it and Heaven to order.
Above it all, the Gallery of the Gods looks down and titters in nervous anticipation.
I must remember, that for all intent and purpose that it really is someone else, more fearful, if not once more powerful, who occupies the moment. Even Christina has taken notice of the aura, which now moves to surround him, that the personage who emerges from its haze to stand before us is an ancestor, unlike any of which we have recently known: beyond formidable, undeniably shrewd and except for one occasion, able to kill upon impulse without regret. Cautiously, Aeron moves first, to stand at the side of Brisa to watch in silence. Yet, with her movement, the disgruntled look on his face at her motion, prompts Melina to cower beside Christina. While Mother, for her part, now simply smiles and waits. The symbiotic relationship between the two is obvious; they have long adored each other and still do.
I have long waited for the cue. Without fear, I turn to face him and look once more into the eyes that have obsessed my waking lives with a promise and as I do, remove what vestige of modesty remains upon me and proudly stand before him as the day I was born; except for the stupid clip on earrings, that Christine put on me. I seek an end and will have it one way or another. I muse in the moment that history repeats itself repeatedly and those who are oblivious to such are eternally useless if not pathetic fools; however, if I am to be cast off again then I too shall fall forever. It would appear that I have rhetorically all but addressed my previous misgivings and further consider; are we not all at times useful idiots born of the moment? I curse the moment and myself and consider that Voltaire’s observation of my situation has now born the fruit of his labor that “all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds.”** I make a note: “Herr Maximillian you are correct but so is Mother.”
The cool gentle breeze, which falls from above, serves as a reminder that under other circ-umstances even the most benign of affective conditions may well kindle the memory that it is the precursor to oblivion. And as on that day, the warrior-king once again kneels to face up with me and in a gravely voice begins to speak as he stares straight into my eyes. As he moves closer, I do not cry out nor do I shed a tear though his breath has turned stale and cold, smelling of the rot born of the ages. Even the color of his skin has changed. No longer a warm rosey pink and full of life; it is dead, a pallid grey, cracked and peeling. Moreover, what I would recognize of his face is little for even his beard is drained of color and what ears remain appears to be merely hairy knobs that lay beneath his long matted hair.
His withered sword hand moves to rest lightly upon my right shoulder and there it rests until he grasps it and under his breath gutturally mutters, “Firm, young flesh, so alive and pleasurable to the touch.” He glances about and continues, “Much has changed but so much more remains the same.
“But you are as I constantly remember.” His boney hand rises from my shoulder, cups my ear, then moves along my face, downward, to caress my still smooth cheeks and chin. Hoarsely we hear, “The ever beautiful boy. You died by my hands any number of times and still you stand before me, a tearless youth. But I would know this before I continue, tell me true, despite my promise, do you still fear me?”
We remain silent nod twice but answer “Used to but no, not now. Except, except that you don’t look…good?”
“Hmmm,” he surmises, and then proceeds, “Though truthful, you remain either very brave or quite stupid; consider, that it is a foolish reply. Look at what has become of me, for candidly, I am in no mood for mirth; I feel rotten. Even so, it does not lessen what I remember. Over and over again as a coc-kroach, you stood before me and scurried about in the dark of night to flee my initial grasp and in each encounter reached out to touch me, softly: as if searching. Little did I know then of what you sought.
“And afterwards, unthinkably, you, a boy repeatedly accepted his fate, and would always dare come to face me when I called; when grown men would piss themselves as they cried to me for mercy while they ran to escape my judgement. All others died but once, but you, did not. I treasured one such as you but still, I have no fond memories of this. For each has been uniquely distasteful, especially when at last I understood; that you would be my own. Often, I had questioned myself, how is that you knew what I did not until later? Why would you not speak of it, if only, as warrior to warrior, was it not your right?
“You were too much like your father and far too much like me: stubborn, proud, and relentless; and still but a child. In victory, I willingly took what was yours. Look at yourself, then look at what I have been reduced too and what I have become. I am more repulsive now than then and understand that I too now share Achilles’ passion that “I would choose to serve as the serf of another, rather than be lord over the dead.”*** Despite what you would hear, in Elysium, there is no honor among the dead only regret and the numbed spirits of sorrow. I have learned that even to the honorable, there are limits and have grown bitter. I feel far less honor than remorse.
“All these years I have waited for you to voice the anwer and still you stand before me as silent as the grateful dead do. I ask would you now repay me in kind and tell me when I might leave. Why will you not speak to me “now;” for is that the only word I shall remember from you? How many times did I suffer it in your presence from your lips to my ears.
“Still, even before the last tone, I could not bear to watch you, a child, fall to the rocks below and unashamedly felt no need to dry the tears I cried; thus, I turned away only to watch my tears fall from my eyes. There, to dry where they fell upon the earth with the suns light. In that moment, those few who wagered, correctly, and did not mock my tears, I allowed to pass without regret; thirteen others were not as fortunate. Though I could not save you from death, I could avenge it and did so, repeatedly.
“Of course, I sought to reason well with each; but none matched your resolve. Rightfully challenged, I left the boy lovers to rot on the rocks where they fell below. I felt nothing for them but did in turn mourn you. Then, as I walked alone from the summit, even those who would call themselves friends would not dare face my rage.
“But that is the past is it not…now meaningless?”
“Hmmpf. So summoned here, by your leave, where am I to begin except at the beginning of course, with Achilles and his great armor?” I am told by Tiresius that even on this matter, you would remain silent; it is my my burden to speak.” He pauses for a moment looks about and continues. “Proudly, once, long ago I commanded thousands who listened to my every word and was told that when I spoke, it was not only for myself but for them: and in that instance, not only they, but even the gods themselves listened from on high; but now, look at what stands circled before me and of what I have become. Well, if there were any left above let them gather, I bid them draw near, for it would appear my listeners too, here, are limited. Perhaps it is a fitting end and all too late; too late for many things, especially those many missed in life. Little one, you would do well to remember that there is no future in certain death.
“Now,” it is but one word that I too spitefully remember, and would begin with the armor of Achilles: forged by the god of fire himself, Hephaestus and presented to the beast by his mother Thetis. Thetis, of the Nereids, saviour of Zeus, understood prophesy, that her son would either lead a long and tedious life or one short-lived but glorious. She sought to protect him from the latter, thus she immersed him into the river Styx, holding him fast by his heels. Neither Homer nor I knew of this nor that did it offer him divine protection. But there is more which is not known that I shall reveal.
“Of course, as any mother would protect her child: so it was with Thetis; who asked the Darkener of the Skies, “A gift for my son, deny prophesy and grant both long life and glory.” She would plead for more. But Zeus himself, even after having moved his member to her own lips, pulled her closer as she knelt before him. There he sat upon his throne; though so pleasured; still feared her son and denied her. Haplessly she turned away from Olympus’ heights to mourn in solitude then fled to the hollow caves beneath Lemnos to meet with the smith of the gods: Hephaestus. There she asked for both shield and armor to protect her son, “That would withstand the blows of mortal men.” Therefore, he did for even Zues himself banished him from Olympus for transgression.
“Thus, the first set of armor went to war but was lost in battle to Hector when he slew Achilles’ Patroclus. Enraged, Achilles would return to the battlefield, at his mother’s insistence, to avenge his friends’ death, even though both understood that he would forfeit his life. But left without armor he could not fight; thus again, Thetis went to Lemnos. Once more she would press Hephaestus for yet another set, far greater than the first, so that Achilles might wear as he battled the both the Trojans and Hector. What she did not know was that another from Olympus had also witnessed her pleas; but was not so content. Thetis had asked for one thing, yet Achilles, through another, would receive far more.
“Hear the words of Tiresias, “That Hephaestus, by design, slyly endowed it with those godly powers held by but a few on Olympus itself. Yet, of all the gods and goddesses, only three in all of Olympus knew of this: Hephaestus, Apollo and Athena for it were at her urging that Hephaestus should so endow it, for she favored the Greeks but more so Achilles; and of the three but two were of like mind. Her brother, rebellious Apollo, was not so inclined and the doubts between both were great. For in mistrust, he had followed her at a distance to spy upon her and there, nearby, in the darkness, silently listened to the echos of her plan as they rang throughout the caves. So content he left.
“So it was then at the hearth that The Shield of Achilles was fashioned first. Its massive girth stood to the shoulders of most men and so embossed with richly decorated figures of gold, silver and bronze lain upon layers of a forged metal stronger than iron; then known only to the gods. At its outermost edge was the River Ocean, which encircled it completely. The next ring placed upon its face was divided into thirds were of Cattle, Dance and Sheep; and then, within it, the three provences of Vintage, Ploughing and of Reaping. There closest to the heart above the center of the shield was a city halved; one a City at Peace while below it, in ruin, lay a besieged City at War. Now my little one the heart of matter is where it begins: at it’s center, upon it for all to see, the god of fire placed the earth, the sea, the moon, the constellations above, and finally at its core, was the all seeing sun. Only then,
“When he'd created that great and sturdy shield,
he fashioned body armour brighter than blazing fire,
a heavy helmet shaped to fit Achilles' temples,
beautiful and finely worked, with a gold crest on top.
Then he made him leg guards of finely hammered tin.”****
“Armor and shield shield and armor; each was empowered by Hephestus; but of the two The Shield was the greater. For, unbeknownst except to those who carried it, it not only spoke, as if alive, but could also, in a moment, devine the fate of those who approached to face it or of who would dare come touch it. In spite of the numbers that would press him in battle, those who dared face him could never defeat Achilles: as both armor and Shield worked as one to protect him. Thus, when Hector turned to face Achilles wearing the armor he had taken from Patroclus, Achilles understood in an instant where the weakest point to attack would lie. It was then he hurled his massive spear which neither armor nor sword could stop.
“You understand my conjecture, the star-shooter himself understood that Achilles could only be defeated if the shield was unaware of what approached; what it could not see it could not turn and defend against. Then, high upon the battlements of Illium, Apollo stood with Paris. In victory, when Achilles turned his chariot away, Apollo spurred him loose the shaft that he may guide it with his breath, to find the heel of my friend.”
“That he did, sealed his fate and those of the gods themselves. Need I say more?
“Athena, you smile at me; good then my insinuation is obvious. When one is blinded as well as deaf, words are useless: it is the act, which merits response. Your revenge is complete. Thus, it is now the heart of the matter. The last touch is what was sought and that which was taken.
“Only after the last did it finally speak out to me; claiming I was not only in error but had killed what would be mine. Little one you are truly a master of persistence if not deceit. I am humbled. One day, both shield and armor will once again see the light of the sun. Then, both will be yours.”
Christina’s “Wait a second, I don’t…” prompts a snap quick glare back at her which shuts her up quicker than a stopper stuffed in a sink drain. She still hasn’t connected the dots; its not really dad, its him, who she thinks she’s going to get the best of, like she normally does, but, it doesn’t take her long to figure that out when he barks out, “Silence! Women are best heard when moaning in bed beneath the thrusts of their lovers.”
Stunned red-faced exasperation would be the look on my sisters’ face until he started to laugh and I have to admit, I could have walked over to Melina, naked, and lifted her jaw up so at least it wouldn’t be hitting the floor like it is now; but didn’t. He went on with, “Women, I tell you, are no longer to be trusted.” ***** Except for mother, he studies each, as one would assess a herd of cows, then all but sneers at them.
Well I guess I was waiting for a showstopper and that had to be it as I too look at him with questioning eyes. Instead of what I thought would happen he drops the hammer on me and just as soon as I start to say something, he starts to laugh and goes on with, “Forgive me. It has been a long time and Agamemnons thoughts from Hades still echo in my mind. His wife didn’t think much of them either; killed him over that and a few more things at dinner with her lover one evening. He did leave me some parting words of advice “Never be to gentle with your wife, nor show her all that is in your mind.”
“You would do well Astyanax to heed those words, except, that you are not yet again Astyanax are you? You are the other, his mentor, the one spoken of by Tiresias: the specter of dread incarnate. Nevertheless, for either, the advice remains sound counsel.
“Look, your future consort, the witch, grows anxious, I smell her growing fear, none-the-less it is understandable. After all, who would believe the words of a lunatic except for a small trusting boy, but more so, who alone then of mortals could know the mind of the gods? I would answer none, save the temple favorite, the ever truthfull liar who quakes besides the little church mouse who exclaimed her ignorance. She grows restive as well; I smell that too. To your credit, however, yours remain true.”
“I would linger further, as their forgotten scents are pleasing, but cannot as my time is short.”
The ghost from Elysium turns his attention to, “Athena, countless times we had relived the moment; consider that the boy has touched the heart of the matter which lay upon the Shield of Achilles; the sun. The boy would press you to decide, do so, but listen closely, upon the River Ocean there are always three ships; sometimes many more and those who sail upon them do so continuously, most never to set foot on lands unknown. However, neither vessel is ever without crew, nor food, nor drink; nor without sky or night; nor the stars above; yet neither vessel will accept from any other additional provisions or crew. Side by side, they sail for time eternal until such time that all but three shall cease to exist. That time approaches yet again. Tiresias claims what you have thoughtfully fashioned stands before the highest of magistrates and is so favored and empowered by him. Of my compatriots, only Achilles and I now remain upon the Elysian Fields and in want of release. To choose one above the other is certain death.
*Tiresias...the blind seer of Thebes who also counseled Oedipus.
**Candide by Voltaire.
***Quote of Achilles to Odysesseus in Hades as written by Homer.
****Description of Achilles armor as Attributed by Homer in the Iliad.
*****Quote of Agamemnon to Odysesseus when they met in Hades.
-
"Consider...I speak neither for myself nor of Achilles, but of those unseen who surround you; for your words to them would surely carry the weight of ages. My esteemed, I have held you above all others and long worshipped at your feet; but I now ask, are we two, the remaining blessed after death in Elysium, to linger there forever cursed? Have you too played me for a fool and forgotten me; for Tiresias claimed only you would understand of what I speak?
For a moment, Mother remains silent, smiles, shakes her head from side to side and sits quietly; then thoughtfully replies. “No my dearest, I have neither played you for a fool nor forgotten you. I too held you above all others: whom else could I have turned to then; save the most favored of mortals among the gods? I could rely upon no other but you. My love, admittedly, I used you to an end, yet seperately, we each served our own needs, did we not? There is no secret there; your wants were limited to the affairs of men; mine were otherwise.
“That concealed of which Tiresias claims, I understand and will explain. It was at your behest that it all began; you pleaded to me for knowledge. Your words of “Speak to me the whereabouts of Achilles” spurred me to act. Forthrightly I replied, “You should seek Achilles guised as a girl.” Dumbfounded, you scoffed at my words and asked, “Pray tell, where shall I seek this beauty, for with my eyes there are many such lovelies to look upon?” Straightforwardly, it was at my suggestion, that you “Search the agoras.*” Dearest, understand, by necessity the act served both our purposes as only you could find the young Achilles: whereas the many others who so endeavored, searched in vain, remember?
“Of that moment I bid you remember that as you walked the many agoras to find but a solitary table among the throngs, upon which to lay the sparkling trinkets that would attract the females, for a time, you were alone. In exasperation, silently, you again beseeched me for help and I admit, I then came and walked beside you while whispering in your ear that you also “Place a lone sword beside the trinkets; so predictably, as flies to honey, either would attract both.”
“There, while you watched in surprise, as the females busied themselves toying with their baubles, only he, then the well garbed fair maiden Achilles, apart from them all dared to draw near and fondle it. In that moment, upon his touch, so enthralled, his fate, as yours, was ultimately sealed: so then said the scales.** Only afterwards, did you, with a wolfish smile, confront him and dare shame him to act.
“However, if we are to assign blame, yours were the words to him of “Behold Achilles the mincing Myrmidon,” not mine, that persuaded him to journey as you alone so glibly toiled. He was still but a youth yet knew his promised fate: but yours were the words that compelled him sail to Troy, upon one of the thousand ships to die; not mine. Yours were the weighted words, which tipped the scales; thus, the consequences accrued to both. Your words, as would an arrow, had ruefully found their mark.
“Yours were the words that won you his armor after his fall. Yours were the words that then would charm a snake. But now, my loquacious sweet, you must understand, your once silver tongue has long since turned to clay and those who surround you here are not now prone to your wiles; nor am I.
“My darling, consider, even then despite your prowess, be it with sword or spear, you too would have fallen to Hector. Most certainly, things would have been otherwise if not for Achilles; as there was always the ubiquitous Hector, for even on Olympus it was known, that only Achilles could defeat him. To that end, we shared a harmony.
“That you remain consumed by your acts is understandable, for even I concede to you the warrior’s code. You blame yourself twofold: not only for Achilles’ loss, but more so for the child, who now willingly stands beside you; and that ultimate irony is not lost upon me for I admit, I too played a heavy hand on him and have long since paid for it. But you bemoan your fate and in part still linger with him (Achilles) in the emptiness of Elysium: becoming a bitter soul in waiting. Nevertheless, he is not now the core of your dilemma; it is the boy, otherwise you would not be here: now.
“The sour taste now in your mouth was born of your own desire. I aided you who sought first a champion whose fame in youth preceded him: Achilles, to serve your cause in war. All that you asked of me I willingly gave; a friend upon whom in battle you could rely. Such were the affairs of men then as they much remain now. When did you realize that in him, you found only that, much less and nothing more? Was the revelation through Tiresias’ prompts or was it now?
“My love, the greater irony is not lost upon me. Those roles, of the many fools we both have mortally since played, were neither of my design nor of intent. Listen closely my sweet, for of us two, I am the greater fool; for it was not my intent that whoever dared touch the sun became one as I if not decidedly more. My intent was that you touch the heart of the shield and rule by my side as…a lesser companion. Instead, the boy touched it.
“The boy sought more than that of what I had simply envisioned for you or myself: mere vindication and revenge. A simple child, who would have surpassed his father if not for you…or I…is once again the center of our mutual attention.
That you sent both to their deaths with words is notable for you have ever been pursued in death by one word: “Now.” Moreover, that your memory of but one word vexes you is explicable as the one word consumes you. Yet consider, that that fateful moment is not lost on me, as blind rage and unwarranted anger, if not hate consumed me as well: directed not only towards those of Troy, though they implored me to do otherwise, but also to those who haughtily dwelled upon Olympus who dismissed me; especially my narcissistic brother and philandering father. Such were my plans of which Tiresias has alledged.
“Silently I then asked, “Whome shall atone for my ultimate loss?” for I had outrageously diminished myself and repute by deeds in their names and my own. Shamelessly, the weighted scales of retribution did counter, “Strike the innocent who can do nothing.” Many deserved more from me yet received far less, especially the one above suspicion, Hector’s only son; the young and still beautiful Astyanax.
“In disbelief, I warily pondered the challenge, repeatedly cursing the child, refusing to accept the manifest of how could the solitary object of my repeated ire, demolisher of my plans, discern such? How was I to know that even the scales, by weight of heavy hand, had lied? Too late, I understood that there was much more and have paid the price ever since. Little did I know that coincidence would cancel all existence; especially mine.
Belatedly, the conundrum became evident; who else could have known my plans except the one who shared my thoughts? I would reply none other than my temple favorite Cassandra: so cursed by my brother, in revenge found but one little boy to believe her every word, Astyanax.
“Cassandra my love, the plot hatched is worthy of my adulation. You understood that the one who dared approach and touch the shield would do so in expectation not of pressing reward, for there was little, but of my potential, if not maternal adoration. It was inc-umbent that you find one so altruistically disposed and you did; understanding that in time such a being would thus become a kindred spirit, to both you and me.
Regretfully then, it was upon a touch that the thought occurred, that I knew neither of life nor of love; and that the unfathomable sun he had touched could clearly see through those clouded illusions that I recalled which so limited my minds eye. In that moment of understanding, I perceived my golden rule had turned to rust.
______
*Agora…an open-air market
**The scales…used to determine fate upon Olympus…not often prone to true weight, especially if they were rigged!
-
Mother continues without pause, speaks past Melina, and continues to address the “truthful liar”with, “First then among oracles, you understood that only mortal memories, those forged in blood, would bring forth both the diamonds and rust of our existence. My lovely and still contrary Cassandra, love at first sight is your raison d'être and the explanation for your presence: your compelling want to complete the full circle of life with Hector’s only son, Astyanax. By your recent admission, he remains as irressitable to you now as he was then.
“Yours were the words which instilled within him the seed of need, if not desire, as well as his unfaltering if not excessive, nobility of purpose. Yours is the darker secret which now increasingly troubles you and of which Odysseus has sensed within you. Moreover, what is evident is that despite circ-umstances, the boy will not lie; but you on the other hand my dear, have been and unfortunatly remain to this moment, not only an accomplished liar, but also, a scheming opportunist most worthy of my accolades. Such talents may be ignored by many, yet my love, today and at this moment, they are not.”
As Melina’s jaw drops in astonishment at her tart words, Mother smiles and quickly holds up her right hand, as if to stop on coming traffic as she continues with, “Please, it is not necessary to feign shock or disbelief nor would I counsel that you look to your mother for support. The look on her face at this moment is not as tender as is mine for with my words she too has suddenly grasped the situation.
“Brisa, I do not seek to curry favor with you, but you are no ones fool and as an exceptional artisan you have professed that you deal with intrinsics: both the tangible and intangible simultaneously; be advised, so does your daughter though on a far different level than yourself. As a jeweler, you are keenly aware that most fine gems and artifacts at inception are as thoughts, brilliant and sparkling with a singular clarity unknown to others and for a time exist as such. However, over time, they tarnish and become imperfect with age; so tainted, they are unceremoniously discarded as refuse to a bin, there to collect the dust of ages and linger until forgotten.”
Brisa does not speak, merely nods in agreement while she stares incredulously at her daughter.
Mother pauses and with a similar nod in return acknowledges her tacit concurrence: then continues in a hushed tone of voice with “Unless, they have been secreted away purposely to be used in the future; at some point in time known only to the one who had at first cloistered them. Such was the plot then devised by the one who is now your daughter.
“Therefore, let us address the issue carefully. First, I must presume that your talented offspring knows little of what she once was capable of and by appearance is still able of implementing: specifically, that any idea exclusively occupying her mind would turn into a reality for her or another. Brisa, understand, I assign no cognitive blame to her, nor should you, just the opposite.
“Consequently, let us consider the obvious, that my son will not lie, therefore, he never ordered the additional bracelet; and if we are to parse words nor in fact did my husband. Your differing daughter did, most certainly not through the mundane, of physically changing the written. It was, at the source, quite otherwise.”
Brisa does not wait and insightfully counters with, “Ti lete; Iponoeite aufthupovoli;” (What are you saying? Are you implying autosuggestion?)
Mother smiles at Brisa and states, “Brisa, I imply no such thing. Of course, you may take issue with me but we both discern there is no other explanation. Yet, with your query, you comprehend that I state fact. However it is possible that Cassandra knows little of what she once was and conceivably is still at times now capable of; and would explain the incompatible excuses she has offered to us all, especially with respect to the four very special bracelets which you have so skillfully fashioned.
“One must also consider her own admission, that she alone observed my husband enter your establishment each time as she stood waiting behind a mirror. There I would surmise that her rapt focus of attention was in the making; otherwise why else would she stand there alone and in anticipation of his appearance? For the moment, the only probable answer is that she expected a certain and most timely visitation. Rhetorically then the question is put, who else could have forseen a date and time certain for such occurances except one whose abilities transcended the normal?” Mother smiles cryptically then adds, “I would reply, only one so experienced.
“Of course that begs the question at what point in time did her visions of timeliness occur? Was each occurance a random happenstance from which she could stand at a distance and gaze on in expectation? I will answer, no, I think not. I think that that moment of clarity had long since past, therefore what I now deduce is straightforward: that as a predator, she laid silently in wait; knowing exactly what at some point would occur. From that moment on, as any predator, she then took advantage of the situation.
“Whereupon each time he entered she concentrated her most immediate and profound thoughts upon one already susceptible to such suggestion, my husband, but a portion of her personal desire. Simply put, it was her longing for a youthful and androgenous apparition: a vision whom only she could see, himself a timeless and wandering soul; and one who in appearance was identical to her first love. The irony of it all is obvious; he is the same as she had envisioned; in every respect identical and continues in her eyes to be a most beautiful and attractive youth.
“Cassandra, shall I continue or do you wish to explain yourself; afterall, we both know that you were the one who prompted my husband to arbitrarily order the additional bracelet the last time he entered. Certainly, the words were his, but the thoughts that prompted them, were clearly yours. You were the one who impelled their delivery, espressing a time certain date, otherwise, “things would not be right;” not necessarily for him but for you. As a woman, I understand that the extra bracelet was not for just anyone else; by self-design, you had calculated it for yourself.
“And the reason is obvious; it was your desire to have such a gift, on hand, today, as you envisioned yourself the recipient not only of its intrinsic majesty, but also of your desire for him to express his graciousness to you in an act of generosity; where he would selflessly “offer” it to you. Moreover, you could not tolerate the thought of prolonged exclusion therefore you circuitously enveigled and cajoled his sister, Christina, to provide an alternative route through which to meet him and receive what he would offer in a moment of kindness if not youthful ardor. Am I correct? If so, what else had you envisioned? Well?
Melina Cassandra remains motionless, tears slightly and stares past Christine, at Mother; winces, then shakes her head from side to side, mutters, “Yu’r doing just fine…so…like…why not…just like…finish.”
I don’t have to be a mind reader to understand that my sisters face is just beginning to reflect the fact that she’s been used to get to me and that I was right all along in my first not wanting any part of what was going to happen: take a guided tour with some girl. Who knows…it really might have lasted only a couple to three hours but I doubt it.
In the meantime, Mother doesn’t hesitate. “Very well then I will. Have you also impressed another? What is obvious is not lost on me. Then…”
With those words, two pairs of eyes move simultaneously to look at Aeron D. and without clarification, one pair of lips smile back at them both. For some reason I get the uneasy feeling that whatever it is in the box that Aeron was going to give me which is now Melina’s to “offer” me, if I want it, is simply more than just some store bought gift. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I repeatedly hear the echo of words as if imploring me to think twice before accepting it; and that, “Women, I tell you, are no longer to be trusted.” For some reason, Aeron, doesn’t bat an eye and with an enigmatic smile just shakes her head from side to side.
“…I would ask is the taste in your mouth now as sweet as what you had envisioned. I think not for now even he understands that initially he was right to fear your professed altruism. Am I correct or in error? Consider well before you speak of what may occur for your plans and contrived innocence are laid bare as are anothers.”
Melina Cassandra hesitates then cautiously, if not mindfully, replies without looking at me, “Mrs. Markison, if I can just speak to just you; yes. Yu’r right but wrong too. Yes, I lied about a lot of things. But what I didn’t lie about was the way I feel about him. That’s the truth; I swear. And yes, I lied about not knowing about the fact that he was Christine’s twin and that I purposely pestered the hell out of her just to get close to him; but if I didn’t get Christine to hook me up with him somehow I knew he’dve never given me a second look.
“Look, all I know is that for some reason I can’t live without him…and that I want him more than anything else in the world. I’d do anything to get him…anything. I guess in some way I already have but I honestly don’t remember doing what you said I did. I mean, how am I supposed to make someone else say or do something just by thinking about it? I mean sure I wanted one of the bracelets, what girl wouldn’t. But I swear I didn’t know anything about all of this. But…but…as for anyone else…I guess you mean Aeron…so…
“So…all right, all right, I did think about the box that Aeron had for him when I saw it so I guess…I guess…what…what I thought was that…I’d really like to have it too. I mean just as a present just for him…for me to give…because I didn’t have anything to give him…in return that is…but I mean I really don’t know why. But…but that’s all I thought about it…honest. So if you’re telling me that I put words in Aerons mouth…no way. I mean I didn’t know she was going to whisper in my ear and tell me to “Hurry back because he loves you.” Why else do you think I ran all the way down and back upstairs the way I did without stopping? I mean if I knew what was in the box why would I even try to peek inside it. What I’m trying to tell you is that I didn’t plan that, honestly. So…so…if yu’r going to get angry at me and to tell me to get lost because of all the other stuff and not see him again…you could but please don’t.”
Mother smiles, then nods, at both Aeron and Melina, and then replies tangently to Melina as she addresses Brisa. “Brisa, I have heard enough from your daughter and I have no desire to cause you or her pain. Nor do I harbor ill will towards your daughter for her minor misrepresentations; given the circ-umstances, I understand her motivation. Moreover, if you are as astute a woman as I perceive you to be you have no doubt ascertained, as have I, what has been revealed as intrinsic to the moment’s discussion.”
The sign language of two eyes meeting simultaneously then darting to another is unmistakable. What is also evident is that Aeryn D.’s smile has changed to one of self-satisfaction and with a nod first to Brisa then to Mother she begins to speak.
“Mother Julia, you are as I and my mother had envisioned; as is your immediate counterpart, Brisa. Your discerning inference is well founded, as I was the motivating force that provided the child not only the times certain upon which to act but also to prompt her memories of unquenchable desire for the one she had loved so many years ago. I am flattered that you consider my efforts as experienced; some in my immediate family, as you have heard, would think otherwise. Nevertheless, I am pleased that you hold no ill will towards her. I would hope you hold none towards me for I did what I felt was necessary.
“Moreover, that I spurred her along with my words just moments ago was neither coincidental nor prompted by her. To the contrary, I took it upon myself to coax her intransigence. Of course, you and Brisa may speculate why I would do so; so I will erase any doubts and simply explain; please listen.
“Years ago, beneath the stars a child, whose name was Elias, lay sleeping beside his blood sister and in the midst of his slumber cried out in fear; not only bemoaning whome he thought pursued him but also describing a face which would repeatedly appear before his closed eyes. My ancestor listened closely but could not distinguish what it was in his dreams that the child pointed at erratically into the stars above. Certainly, there were potions, spells and incantations, which she could use to stop his crying, but she understood that they would only be temporary and that his bad dreams would repeatedly return becoming more fearsome; and of course, of the face, which tormented him, she knew nothing.
“Therefore, as a last resort she resolved to use her dream catcher: itself a specially endowed gift to her from the medicine-man Eagle Feather of the mighty Ojibwa Tribe. Eagle Feather had given it the power not only to catch bad dreams in its web but also to reveal themselves to an enchanted onlooker.
“So resolved she silently slipped away from where he slept and retrieved the dream catcher from her lodge and on a branch hung it above his head and waited for what would occur. There she sat for hours and watched; and with each dream that approached, she viewed those many strange nightmares as they came to haunt him. What she saw not only terrified her but also caused her to cry. At that moment, she understood the powerful medicine that haunted him; moreover, that no dream-catcher ever made could ever stop these nightmares from returning. And of the face that moved and fluttered before his eyes in his dreams; it too would never cease until touched by the hands of time; only then would it be allowed to stand still.
“And of what you may ask did Elias point to in the sky; those few stars, which by appearance were arrainged on the face whom haunted him.”
“Great Mother, when I first entered the jewelry store and met Brisa her daughter stood beside her. Hers is the face depicted by the dream-catcher, which is retained within our family’s collective eidetic memory. At that moment, I took it upon myself to prompt her desires and what few white lies she has spoken where of my design not hers. She does however harbor a talent that in time will become evident. But until she matures, for the most, it shall lay dormant. No doubt, quite soon, I will hear from my mother again about that bit of information.
"In the meantime, it is evident that my younger brother is also in need of attention he grows stiff…
-
...and anxious, if not cold and distant; for I believe he had some moments ago discerned but a portion of my involvement and now ponders the obvious: whome among us can he trust.”
“Still………..
The thought occurs that I would counsel him “To trust no one but yourself.” As for my gift, why do I sense a growing suspicion within him, especially of me? I have no overt desire to intrude; however, I cannot help but sense the torrent of thoughts that escape him. They are almost bouncing off the walls as they run off from his mind. I would note with some degree of flippancy, that for some cause, he also begins to trickle elsewhere as well…but…why do I suddenly feel so…odd and stolid?
Moreover, why is that solitary dribble now the least of his worries because it is the many other thoughts of his to me, of mutual concern, which are now paramount? Of course, he is dissatisfied. No, I believe it is more than that; for I sense he is increasingly troubled, if not overtly vexed, by more of what is unspoken. Then why will he not speak of it?
Cristopher Elias, why I am increasingly concerned even more so by what you hide from me? You know, as your sister…if I waited…long enough…you would “eventually” give that particular thought up to me. Despite your efforts, I would in due course find out. So why not tell me what I want because…because…all I hear now in my mind’s eye is your outlandish thought of… “If that is what you want to wait on then have at it?”
“Very good Aeryn, if that is all you hear, then yes, have at it and see how far you get. In addition, you are correct, at present, I’m not at all nice and most definetly it was not in any tone of voice that you would like to hear…but keep in mind you didn’t actually hear my voice just now…did you? Because…”
“Because, that’s unrealistic because…because…”
“Because sister, I have all the time in the world to stand here and listen to you whine and here you will remain sheltered; and because you’ll never find out about it or anything else all by yourself, so you better ask for help. You know if I were you, I would…”
“Stop it! Stop this right now! Please! All I know is that you’ve proved you’re point, I’m alone, and I realize that you have all the time in the world and I’ll never find out about it by myself…so…let me go immediately so I…I…need to go…get help? So who do you suggest?”
“Suggest? What I first suggest is that you graciously…not interrupt me. After all, who do think trained your ancestors.
"That thought is preposterous!"
"Oh really? We can have that discussion later, but for now, just try and move…I dare you! See…what you can see yourself doing only seconds from now. If you’re interested, I’ll tell you what I see you doing…nothing…nothing at all. Funny isn’t it? I mean, you think and hear and in some manner “converse” but otherwise you are incapable of understanding why what has occurred has in fact happened and you are incapable of doing anything about it. Still…what’s more is that from the moment you noticed me, you too, were just as immobile as I; your problem is that you just haven’t fully appreciated the situation that you find yourself in right now. So much for all of your experience.
“I would offer you the analogy, that we are both mannequins: who for the moment remain in place but who are otherwise capable of a rational conversation; if we so desire and believe me, you will so desire. To anyone else the conversation is non-existant because what we will discuss will happen in but a blink of an eye; while to either of us, the true circ-umstances of time as we know it, has actually become irrelevant. The conversation will last for as long as I deem it necessary and no one else in this room will ever be the wiser; unless of course, you tell them but somehow I don’t see that happening; at least not manifestly.”
“Elias that’s not very funny…but I reiterate that you’ve proved your point. You do realize that this form of communication is extremely difficult for me…you do see that don’t you? Please say yes and let me...”
“Yes I do and yes, it is like speaking to your mother and no I won’t let you go; not yet anyway.”
“Yes, it is like speaking to my mother…and if I didn’t know better…”
“You don’t and you’re wasting time because if I wanted to, you’d never ever know about that either.”
“Well o.k. then…what if…what if I just promised to keep this a secret just between you and me… I wouldn’t tell a so…”
“That impossible and we both know it. At some point in time, it would be made evident. Besides its too late and it wouldn’t work…because….that’s basically the problem, it’s just not any kind of a promise made to just anyone. Ohh, and…no…you can’t talk to Elias…he can’t come out and play right now, because he’s gone away, at least for the moment. Besides, you're with me at the moment and there is only one left for me to decide on.
“You see, that’s basically it…why we’re standing here…there really is only one left and I have to decide who it will be. You know, this will go a whole lot better for you if you just asked for help. I mean, I can wait for as long as it takes but the question is can you. I would surmise that since it runs in the family…you can’t. You know what I’m thinking about now don’t you? Yes, of course you do.
“Big sister, think about it. Here we are, two rational souls staring at each other…sheltered, virtually frozen in time and it is I, the vagabond who would keep you unharmed. Isn’t it a pity; you, just standing there while everything around you has ceased; if only in movement. Can’t you feel the space all around you; pressing in and getting closer and closer. It feels almost stifling, doesn’t it? You know, it’s very still in here right now, not even a breeze, and the only sound that you hear is me… all alone inside your head with you… and we’re in this tiny little space that’s now all of our own. I know, I know, it’s almost as if you can’t catch your breath…and the more you experience…well...you’ll get used to it…eventually. But then again, maybe not; because you can’t help yourself. If it’s any comfort to you, think of it, neither one of us has taken a breath yet. Of course, the idle thought occurs how long you can hold your breath. You realize that the more you fight it the worse it gets. And no, I’m not a “mean little boy” and yes, I know that the longer you stand there the worse you’ll feel; especially so because given your situation that you’re really afraid and what is in your mind will fade to black; so you must understand that I know that you’re…”
“Yes, I’m claustrophobic…extremely claustrophobic…just like my ancestors; so that’s why…”
“We slept outside most of the time; the first Aeryn couldn’t stand to be confined either because...”
“Don’t tell me, you did the same thing to her and she…”
“She understood the need for silent discussion and admittedly didn’t like it either but she didn’t complain about it like you. Besides, she understood more than you about what was going to happen and why than you do. And if you’re going to ask me to stop, forget about it. And the answer to your recurring question of “why” is simple, you’re the only one here, other than myself, with the self-professed experience to listen to someone else without saying a word and then being able to act upon it; in my behalf. Therefore, it is fitting that we should eventually convene in this manner. I need something from you and in return, you will get something invaluable from me: untold experience. It is a fair trade.”
“Christopher, please, I don’t like this at all!”
“Yes, I know but so what and no, I’m not being cruel, I simply require your co-operation. The question is will you ask for help or not…just as I’m asking you. Now, before you answer, let me tell you something about yourself. First, you gave yourself away about what you could do some time ago, at least with me you did. But you were so wrapped up in yourself that you never once took notice. I mean big sister, if I can read Christina’s thoughts why can’t I read yours as well? It’s pretty obvious, you know, after all we are related…runs in the family.
“Secondly, with your big ego getting in the way, you had to go and meddle in something that really didn’t concern you and now you’ve botched the works and I’m caught in the middle trying to find a way out.
“Christopher…I…I’m sorry but I don’t understand…how? I did nothing but…”
“Meddle! You did nothing but stick your nose in a decision, which was not yours to make. It was hers and hers alone. I’m talking about Mother’s belated observation of your involvement, at least where Melina was concerned and that was the kicker. We both know that you prompted her and because of that, she gave away what was supposed to be mine. It wasn’t for you to prompt her like you did! You don’t understand, you don’t understand at all! All you had to do was just stay out of it all, but no, you had to go nose around in something that you don’t know anything about and mess everything up! You did it and you can’t say that you didn’t because you did!
“Little one I…”
“Don’t call me that ’cause I don’t like it! O.K? Now, just listen without interrupting. Herr Maximillian was only partially correct about the Pardoning Tear. He didn’t understand it all: that under certain circ-umstances, especially where a mortal is concerned, more than a single tearful reciprocal action is necessary; that only works conditionally. Aeryn, after His approval, Mother gave away her initial understanding and acceptance to Melina…not to me. In this world, I had to be the first she actually voiced and painstakingly expressed doing so; otherwise, everything to this point was for nothing and gets royally screwed over! All it would have taken for this to end was for her to say she understood me and accepted me for what I was. But nooo, you had to come along and mucky up the works! Now I’m screwed because I really have only one decision left to make and then I’m going to lose and this time I had nothing to do with it…it was you…besides…I don’t like to lose. Understand?
“O.K. no you still don’t understand, so listen up. Under the rules, the aggrieved party if mortal, that’s me, becomes the final arbiter: unless the judgment itself is, forfeited. That means if the conclusion is taken out of my hands and given to another I automatically cede the rights of either acceptance or refusal. In her specific words, what she, as a mortal would offer, I would’ve accepted; and when done, then everything would’ve been great because I had already agreed to help Melinda out of her situation. But because of you, she gave away what was mine to Melina, who accepted it, and I can’t make her take it back and I can’t take back what I’ve already agreed to do. But it gets worse because…
“Mother thinks she’s so smart and has the whole thing figured out by doing what she did…she isn’t and she doesn’t and she’s going to make it all worse by going ahead and guessing all because of you and that stupid present you gave to Melina to give to me. You know I could’ve just as easily read your mind but I didn’t and I could’ve done just about anything else to you and you wouldn’t have known jack! But I didn’t. I didn’t but you did…you had to go and be so smart…so uppity…so…so…so impossible! That’s why I need you to ask for help, so when you do we can all get out of this, otherwise, time, as you know it, will resume from the exact instant that you stood still…somewhere else.
In case you’re wondering its been over ten and one-half standard minutes since you stood still and I’m willing to stay here and wait for as long as it takes you to think about the obvious, say uncle, or even ….”
“Mother!!!!
-
“Nice try, but no, wrong answer! But then again let’s say I did let you did call on her, can you imagine what she’d say to you first? Right off, you know she always gets your goat and you’d never hear the end of it and second you’d loose forever what I had offered to you: untold experience. That’s what you’re really really thinking about and what you want…isn’t it? And if you’re really paying attention that’s a clue about what you might consider. Now, try that again because I can’t permit her that opportunity as I have already offered it to you; besides, it just wouldn’t be right to take it back because as dense as it sounds that would make me an Indian giver all over again.
“Aeryn, more to the point, don’t you see that if I were you that she’d be the last person I’d call on. No…of course…you still don’t. Look…I know you really don’t have all the experience that she does, but you’re the only one here right now that can make a difference and help; that’s what significant. You’re the one who got dissed by her but really deep down inside wanted to show her what you could do with more experience so nows your big chance. All it takes for you is a leap of faith.*
“And I know what you’re thinking right now, that if I let you go, that if you only had the chance, that if you screwed up, that you’d just call her; if only to say goodbye. If it makes you feel any better, I’m not all that mean and I can’t let either of those things happen either: you messing up or calling her. So for the moment you’re gonna have to live with it; being uncomfortable that is. Besides I know… this is not at all what you envisioned because that’s what you’re thinking. And yes, I know what’s running through your mind: “she did say that she’d do the same thing” as you just did…but if it makes any difference to you I’ll ask nicely…was all she said to you just to make you feel better: or was there something else more important that she left out on purpose? Was it just her way to test you? Because just look at yourself now; and at the fix you’re in and you can’t blame me or her for it either.”
“Christopher that’s not fair or nice in fact it’s…”
“Cold blooded? Is that what you’re really thinking about me thinking about her? If it is, then it is in part my inherent nature. Actually, given the situation, I prefer to simply think of myself as pragmatic; in fact, if I were her, Id’ve done the same thing to you too. The question to you is to what extent, after all, I find myself becoming quite the bitch!
“I don’t under…”
“Understand? What don’t you…understand? For someone who’s supposed to be so smart you sure don’t act like it and yes I know you’re increasingly distracted by what’s happening and think that the walls are closing in on you…but that’s only because they are. If you want to know why then I’ll tell you. They are because, what you perceive in your mind, with my assistance, may in fact become reality.
“Others have dabbled with it, now it’s your adaptation of my little game; creepy isn’t it. Don’t you understand that with all your college degrees and stuff that at present, yours are the thoughts, which are paramount at this time, not mine; I am merely the conduit to their realization. That’s why you’re feeling so bad, because I can amplify what you’re thinking and make it happen and all it takes is for you is just to think about it.
“That’s one of the few things that Stellrecht really understood super good and Herr Maximillian was fortunate enough, through me, to experience but a portion of. Of course you already know that there were others along the road that didn’t fare as well; but I personally didn’t care for them and felt nothing, nothing at all when they elected to up and quit playing.”
“Christopher, you’re telling me that if I believe that that the world as I know it is closing in around me, it is, and will?”
“Yes.”
“But what happens with everyone else, I mean, outside of…”
“I already told you that, they’ve ceased to exist. Outside of these walls, for the moment, they’re gone; all of ’em and they don’t even know it. Just like that, not even in the blink of an eye, and voila, poof no more. Aeron, at the moment, your entire world is consigned to whatever exists within these walls; and the thoughts which you envision will become the reality which in time that will be recognized. Which means that if you screw up just a little bit things just won’t be the same for you or anyone else. I’d venture to guess that whatever you imagine the result will be quite a pressing experience.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Yes, that much is true. But on the other hand, if you think otherwise, then there is much more to learn but you must ask for help in a manner acceptable from someone with more experience than you currently possess. And yes, I know what what you’re thinking now, that if your mother were here that she would have “found herself in the same situation” as you are right now except for one thing: she has a recent history of familiarity. She’d know what to do and how to get there. I mean really, at least she’d know how to go asking someone for help…but you don’t and that’s the dilemma.
“Besides your other biggest quandary is simple, now that you’ve got yourself in a pickle, there’s no one here to tell you what to do. So, think carefully about my offer to you of untold experience. I promise if you just think about it you can gain what you lack and be all the wiser and help me get something from you at the same time. So what’ll it be? Are you going to be of assistance or do we stand here like two bumps on a log forever and a day? And if you’re really interested its now been almost nineteen minutes without taking a breath and yes I can keep this up for however long it takes for you to see yourself desiring…”
“Christopher, I’m sorry for interrupting, please…I’m asking for help…but how and who do I ask?”
“Deep down you already know the answer to that question and I can’t tell you. You must crave it.”
“Then how…I mean…what am I supposed to do? This is exasperating. First, you ask for my help but then you won’t tell me who or what to do; so how am I supposed to?”
“Aeryn, on this matter, I didn’t want you’re help; you interfered. Now, because of that, I desperately need something from you and I can’t tell you what it is. The question of the moment is are you now desirous of a dialogue, after a fashion, or, as my sister, do you actually think that if you waited long enough, that would I give that particular thought up to you, which I won’t because I cannot and will not.”
Christopher Hector Markison what I think is…is…essentially…basically...mostly…no…
admittedly…I don’t know, I don’t know…I’m sorry…but without knowing what to do or think I’m afraid to make a decision. But I can’t stand like this, I can’t. I can’t.”
“Then you mean you refuse?”
“No, no, I do not, not at all. All I’m thinking about at the moment is that I don’t have anyone here to tell me or even show me what to do and I do believe that if I choose wrong then I trust what you have told me will actually happen. So…as your sister…I choose to harm neither you nor anyone else; therefore, if I remain “in situ” so be it.”
“Aeryn, listen closely, you’re geting hotter. In fact your’re getting closer, as are the walls; but you’ve already noticed that. But why on earth does someone have to tell you to do something when all you have to do is imagine? And before you reply, please consider the obvious: between the two of us it is the thought which is paramount to us both. You thought you knew everything but in reality know little and now you’re so afraid that you’ll trip up because you think that there is no one right here who can tell you how or what to do; do you understand? My offer to you still stands as do we.”
“Christopher, why are you speaking in circles? Admittedly, I am afraid; especially of what may occur and desperate to be released, can’t you see that. I’m sorry, of course you can. Then why can’t I see what you want? Or, is the question better put, what must I see?”
“Yes.”
“Yes? Chris, what exactly must I see that you cannot speak of?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, yes, I know, of course, you will not answer me other than cryptically. But I would postulate as to the significance of this untold experience. Why of the many experiences you have shared that only this now weighs upon you; this one incident of which you will not speak.
“Yes.”
“So…if it is untold…inherently it becomes unspeakable? Don’t reply, wait. And if it is unspeakable then…then how would one…go about understanding what it is that I must do to make things right. I can’t imagine that you’d actually go so far as to simply stand here for an eternity; in your condition, with me idly discussing this matter. And as for my being afraid to “trip up” of course I’m afraid of making an error. Who in their right mind experiencing this wouldn’t be? Christopher, are you going to simply stand there and not say a ….
“What? Say a word. Is that what you’re asking me? Then the answer is no; on this matter, not an utterance; not a sound; not a statement; not a remark will I make and now you’re getting colder. If I were you, I’d go back to where you were before; being hot, therefore the choice is yours to experience or not. Furthermore, neither one word nor a thousand more will garner you the clarity you seek: your perception is reality and you must heartily perceive that which you most desire.”
“Desire? What do I desire? What pray tell…in my heart…do…I desire? Is it in my heart to desire such?”
“Yes. And as have the others, for better or worse, you will find it in time. Then…”
“I ask from you not a word, instead a picture worth thousands if you will but show me. I promise I will do…”
“Yes, I know…and very much so…and so earnestly that I will. That is which is required has been requested and why inturn, I will keep you unharmed. On the brighter side, consider the obvious: that regardless of the paradigm, that all dimensional probabilites will occur, yet only one will be recognized in time, so enacted, I will hold no malice.
"Please listen to my last thoughts to you: here. First, it is necessary that I allow you to blink but once and then, the all-encompassing blackness you fear will come; but I promise, it will pass. Less than a second later, when again you open your eyes and stare transfixed, you will seek to cry out…but do not. Be as silent as the grave for there are others, unseen by us, who also lurk about who guard against intrusion. If they were to find you out it would be most unpleasant. Then when you understand what you see without a word from me we will return and you will surreptitiously fulfill your obligation.
"Aeryn, your timely voyage, and your leap of faith, is at hand. Close your eyes then awaken to find yourself a shade before its time elsewhere.
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“A leap of faith, in its most commonly used meaning, is the act of believing in or accepting something intangible or unprovable, or without empirical evidence. The implication of taking a leap of faith can, depending on the context, carry positive or negative connotations, as some feel it is a virtue to be able to believe in something without evidence while others feel it is foolishness.” Full credit to wikipedia.org.
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“Sister, I promise that all along the route I shall hear your every thought; regardless of circ-umstance, and while you may ask, for the most part consider, that I cannot react for the experience is truly yours; and it is for you to determine what shall occur thereafter. Yes, I know you don’t understand but I can explain in part before we arrive.
“And yes, your thoughts betray you. I really do understand that right now, you are “unresolved” as to where or how I will take you and I will answer; that we will move in concert from a place and time to where, when you open your eyes, we are as one at rest and in another place.
“Now however, for the moment, you must close your eyes and allow me to move us freely. I’m sorry, but for once in your life, just let yourself go and you will sense yourself encapsulated by the very walls you fear. They will move ever closer to you, and then, suddenly, as they are within hands touch, you will literally feel as if you are being pulled backwards and drawn into something while falling from an unfathomable height.
“Yes, it is frightening. But the sensation is an illusion and unlike me, you shall not find yourself shattered upon what you imagine that waits for you when you finally stop. If it is of any comfort to you, consider, that your corporeal self is still where it was before we left: it remains in place, right where we left it, as you expressly first desired…in-situ. You have caused no harm…not yet anyway…nor for the moment…have I.
“Aeryn, listen closely, the sound, which you hear, as air hastening past our ears, is deceptive. What you actually hear is the resonance of time itself; the friction caused by the resistance of the tides of time as they rush past the membrane of our shroud. Believe me, you get used to the sound. And the answer to your rational question is “No,” you are not “Just a big ’ol scaredy cat.” The terrible anxiety you feel is normal; it is what all-sentient souls initially sense, when they enter the chasm in that moment of release from one state of existence to another. Do you understand my implication?
“Yes, I have a feeling you do, but then again, maybe not; but after all you really did want to see. So, here’s your big chance to see exactly what it’s like to get experience for yourself; anyway, that’s what you told your mother, didn’t you? Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?
“O.K. O.K. if it is of any consolation, even Herr Maximilliam feared as you do now and I will tell you exactly what I told him: “…it is a misuse of your energy to struggle.” And yes I know that you are “…still claustrophobic,” but when we arrive at the Expanse, that will pass. I promise. And please, don’t get sick!
“Aeryn, this is but a portion of what you asked for, what you desired, what you really wanted to see… so… don’t be afraid…because you are not falling down. Just the opposite, this IS your trip up! After all, deep down inside you, you had so many doubts so you really really wanted to know so many things…and you will…but just remember that the imaginings you see are through me because at this moment, we are of the same blood: both one and inseparable. What happens to you happens to…yes…even that too…so be careful.
“Nevertheless, for the immediate moment, I will grant you your observation that the void in which you now find yourself does “appear endless:” that is because it is; it has no beginning, no end, it is infinite in its entirety. The only question to resolve is where do we stop?
“Aeryn, to make it easier for you to understand consider yourself now an invisible hitchhiker, a like-minded traveling companion within a cosmic game of chance in which there are infinte possibilities all of which pend upon an eventual landing location; the one you most desire. That which you perceive yourself within, now, as seen through my eyes, is actually the hole that exists in the thread of time, which we now together travail, and to answer another of your questions, “No,” it is no one “…other than,” me who speaks to you; or, from this moment on, will. The reason for that is quite simple to explain…you are a relatively new soul and do not exist…at least…not yet. I told you the truth before we left…you are now indeed a shade before its time.
“You must try to understand that a string of time exists for us all and this strand is exclusively yours though, for the moment, we do share but a portion of it and that at some point…yes, but don’t interrupt…you are correct…“it will end.” No, not nescessarily the way you think; unless of course that is your final decision. Corporeal death, is only a change of form, one from which we resonate in existence from one state to another. And “No,” your mother has not traveled this path nor has she, nor will she ever, the experience is uniquely yours alone and my gift to you. I know you don’t understand…but you will.
“However on a more pleasant note, I feel that you are unaware of the voids true temperament and have not reconciled yourself as to whether you are actually sinking or rising within it. The answer to both sensations is yes; for within it, there is not up or down. The many directions that one may be pulled simultaneously are concurrent with all of its eventual possibilities and yes, your analogy of "...so they are as eddies, in an ocean, but more so," is correct.
“And the reason that there are so many is that depending upon circ-umstances that all probabilites of life within it are seen at the same moment and for some reason we are pulled towards each of them almost simultaneously. But somewhere along the thread line, at some particular moment, one moves to that event which is favored: thus the fateful choice is made. And yes, you are right, “But normally…one does not see all of the eventualities.” Yes, that much is true, “Because, they are purposely hidden from our sight.”
“Speaking of which, shortly, even though your eyes, behind mine, remain shut, I know that in your mind, that you will perceive a light, almost blinding and far brighter than any other you have ever seen: while at the same instant, you will also sense from elsewhere an impenetrable and forboding gloom; a blackness from which no light escapes. Even with your eyes closed, the distinction between the two is most evident and to be honest, the difference between the two is so great that even the proverbial blind man coming upon it would see it.
“Sister, what I’m describing to you is known as the Expanse. It is the space that separates the ultimate good from the ultimate evil; sort of like a temporary no man’s land.
“Aeryn, those who appear, immediately find themselves between the two. For most, the choice is straightforward and undemanding as it is towards the light that they turn and to which they move. For others, those who hesitate or doubt well…you don’t want to know for it is inside the darkness that the shadows and monsters that we fear…exist.
“It is there, just beyond the edge of the observable that It and they who serve It: wait; for the unwanted; for those who are refused eventual admission; or for those, who, just prior to judgment, for whatever reason, turn away and freely choose to return to a darker path. Aeron, the impenetrable blackness is as c-umulative as is the ever-expanding light that waits for us; and each of us by our actions, will, in some manner, aid or abet either of the two.
“We arrive and my caution to you once more is simple, sister, speak not a word for now we stand as one in the area between the blackness and the light and for the moment we are neither light or dark: we are somewhere inbetween. We are grey. Aeryn Deryn Worthington open our eyes and choose to hear and see. When you decide, move.
“I will listen as you think but remember that I cannot truly speak to you, otherwise we are found out. Aeron, your untold experience begins.
“Listen closely, we are hailed…stay calm. Did I mention that when we arrive that we are naked?”
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“The answer to your fretfull thought of “(Are you serious?) is yes, though it is only I whom is seen, now hush your thoughts and just listen for we are not alone.
"Etiam Praefectus? (Yes Praefectus?) Ego et populus non, non reverteretur ad tenebras, et quare non Lucius Aelius Seianus salvete me c-um scis expresse prohibit ate facere? (It is I again…and no, I have not turned to the darkness, but why do you hail me when you know it is expressly forbidden of you to do so?) Lucius Aelius Seianus (Sejanus), in omnes debent custodibus didici lectionem olim. (Lucius Aelius Seianus, you among all should have learned that lesson long ago).
“Oro veniam parum pudic-um est vobis. (I beg your pardon, Sissy, it is you.) Sed dividere est sub firmamento proxime putavi invenire tea mat. (But, the divide of the Expanse is the last place I thought to find the likes of you).
Apologies Mea Sissy hoc tondere occursationis accidens. (My apologies sissy, this is shearly accidental). Sed c-um viderem te ultimumtantum Paulo ante college, ratus Relinquitur altera stantem ante introitum Amphitheatre. (But when I saw you last, only moments ago, I thought I had left you standing before the second entry to the Amphitheatre). Numquam ego te invenire hic. (I never thought to find you here.) Quid hic nunc venistis et quam tam velox? (Why are you here now and how came you so fast?) Putabam te certo iterum confugere wuld post pellem et clama ante certamen ecce vos et sub divoc conspicienda et minus INLACRIMABILIS. (I thought you would again seek refuge behind a curtain and cry before your contest but here you are out in the open for all to see; tearless.)
“Lucius mi non sum in habitu convenienti nec vos umquam. (My dear Lucius, I am not in the habit of answering to you nor will I ever). Forte c-um iterum intra me Amphitheatro etiam certiorem tui relata peccato. (Perhaps when I again enter the Amphitheatre I should also inform Him of your now repeated transgression).
“Commodo non. (Please do not). Immo noli, sodes culpa non volui nec volo tuo pravis solitude. (I meant no offense nor did I mean to intrude upon your solitude). Tu iura in vagary, sicut vis. (You are within your rights to roam, as you desire). Sissy, si tuo consilio ante perambulat ludo ante perdis vanum ei iterum non obstrepat. (Sissy, if it is your strategy before a Game to meander aimlessly before you lose to Him again: I will not interfere).
“Ahha video… te iam subiere offense et displicebitis rursus mihi. (Ahh, I see…you have now taken offense and are displeased with me). Apologia mea intima, sed nomina ferret tot tibi sunt et non mundet a Nebula memoriae. (My profound apology, but you carry so many names with you and none have been cleansed by the Haze from our memories). Parvulus ego videbis Aliquem offendere non volui dicere multi autem hic qui praenomen abbreviate. (Little one, please consider that I truly meant no disrespect but many call you that shortened forename).
“Nolui posse admodum facile solvi, paenitentiam agam fortasse ante statutam horam et ac uirenti excipiunt? (That problem could be solved quite easily; perhaps you will reconsider before the appointed hour and accept His offer)?
Julius sum tui satietas nisus continuo in me PALPO deditionem nunquam cessarunt. Usque ego certamen succedo…si opus usque in finem saeculi. (Julius, I grow weary of your continuous efforts to coax me into submission; I will never yield). Iuravi. (I have sworn it.) Usque ego certamen succedo…si opus usque in finem saeculi. (I will contest until I succeed…if necessary until the end of time.) Tu rursus, defecerunt nee solum ilium, sed c-um te unum sacrmentum fratum. (You on the other hand, have failed not only Him but yourself with but one broken oath of allegiance.)
“Credit tamen cave ad fines caeli sicut finis porta Amphiathere ad. Sed rogo, putasne minus censet quam te? (Still he trusts you to guard the boundaries to Heaven’s end as well as the portals to the Amphiathere.) Quare? (Why so?) Nimirum vos can non responderi rogo, putasne minus censet quam te? (Of course you cannot answer, but I would ask you, do you think He considers less of me than you?)
“Non puto. Parvulus propter aliquam causam fovet vos (I think not. Little one, for some reason, He favors you).
“Sissy, may we dispense with this archaic language in which you greeted me and speak together, here, and both without fear of retribution?”
“Seianus, you have chosen the language and I consent; what we speak of here will remain between, the two of us: proceed.”
“I understand your reason for greeting me so; it is your constant reminder to me of how much you still mistrust me. So often, whenever I would seek you out and ask for your forgiveness always you have turned away from me leaving me alone and in misery; why so, when others who have wronged you far greater than I have fared better? Why do you hate me so?”
“I do not hate. It is not my nature. Unfortunately, I cannot truly love either; thus I exist forever entrapped in the form that stands before you.”
“Then why not make an end of it; if you are so cursed, as an eternal youth who wanders where his dreams would take him? What do you seek besides the heartache that continually finds you? I would ask…”
“Praefectus…answer me…truthfully…what has He offered you besides continuous service without respite for your offense? There is no need…I will answer the question for you: nothing; except a promise of release for an act of which you know is nigh impossible. Therefore, I would ask you, of us two, which of us is the greater fool: I, because I persistently try and fail or you who persistently wait for nothing in return and who can do naught concerning it. Of us two which is trapped?
“Sissy, you are cruel to torment me so. When I approached you now it was not my intent to insult you nor sway you to resign from the contest. Understand, no one would blame you; lest of all I. But it is known, that to contest with Him, even in a game of chance, one courts certain defeat and you have proved that point many times over. When will you learn?
“Seianus, what makes you think I have not already…learned?
“Sissy, the hour grows short and there is little time left for levity. All too soon, you shall again enter the stadium and face Him. I am sorry, but you will lose as you have previously for He is not known for loss and I will serve Him, as I must, it is my duty.
“Seianus, I do not question your obligation to Him; that issue is not in question. What is in question is…and I would caution you to think before you reply…if…afforded the opportunity for forgiveness and renewal would you avail yourself of it regardless of the cost? Would you forfeit your station and move again among them as a lesser…mortal?
“No. I will not betray Him. I have learned my lesson. It has been almost sixteen hundred years since I last drew breathe and in that time, I have stood exiled and barred formal entry within the Gates until I can make amends; it is His judgment. Sissy, you know all this, why do you persist in taunting me so?”
“Seianus, at the moment I neither mock nor seek to goad you. I knew of your timely proclivity to visit this place: it is common knowledge that you alone patrol this portion of the Expanse; it is the appointed hour, the one in which others fear to tred. Of your cohorts, somehow you are different, stronger, keener, ever aware and most importantly sentient; yet I surmise, that as you have marched alone you have often considered, if only fleetingly…the alternatives…to your situation.
“May I expand for I believe your recurring words bemoaning your fate are to the effect of, “Shall I turn one way and allow myself to be taken, enter the darkness and begin anew; or continue along the path that is for me all but etched in stone?”
“Impossible! How did…you imp…you spied…upon me!?”
“Yes, right from the beginning.”
“But how…why did…”
“Praefectus Lucius Aelius Seianus, Guardian of the Rimland, Protector of the Eastern Expanse and Officer of the Guards, you are correct, I have watched you from a distance up to this moment and I have purposely shunned you, not from malice or out of spite but for cause. It is for that reason that I came now to this place… it was my intent for you to find at last what you have sought: me.
“That is laughable and utterly absurd! Despite my many efforts, you have never shown me a solitary kindness or the least of consideration. Tell me one thing that you have ever done to aid me before this moment! Why do you smile at me now you insufferable child!”
“Lucius, I do not smile at you but at your waist pouch and its contents. You must understand that so long ago, after He had passed judgement upon you, of your own volition, you sat and wept upon the Wailing Stone. When you then rose to leave you found beside you a pouch with your name upon it and the note, which explained the use of its contents and of how to fashion others, similar if not better; did you ever fully, consider the source?”
“Yes. But it was you? Why? And why do you seek me and why now?”
“Very well…to the point. I ask you, Lucius Aelius Seianus to enter a compact, one of my choosing, without stipulation or exception. A compact from which the two of us may benefit but only…if…you will…”
“No, I make no promises of betrayal but explain…and Sissy…you must understand that I am loyal to Him.”
“Seianus…Lucius…I would not have it any other way for it is your loyalty to Him upon which I would rely. Now, come closer so that we may speak for even now the Darkness draws closer and the Sirens within would lay us both to waste. What I propose is the following.
“Lucius, take no offense, however, you lack a savings grace…a quality which will compensate for your shortcomings…one which would certainly endear you to Him…if…you were to succeed. You are perplexed and that is how it should be.
“Sissy, you speak in riddles to a desperate soul. If you have something to offer, anything which would break me free from this, I ask, no, I plead, explain what I must do.”
“Then, we two, speak in the strickest of confidence; on that I give you my word.”
“Silentium Inturn obligavit ad vos (Inturn my silence is pledged to you).”
“Very well. What I propose is straightforward and has occurred many times; but unfortunately, it has never succeeded; not even once. The game we play, He and I, and the pieces moved are as real as you or I and before either of us rolls the di we both are caused to mark each piece. There, before me, He marks His Himself with a boon; while I must note all but two of mine with a name, each which, according to a list, I would in life would have had. Thus if I lose a piece to him, my named facsimile is also removed from existence and is no longer mine to do with as I please.”
“And the remaining two which are yet to be named?”
“They are mine and mine alone to name. Now, come closer and lend me your ear, as is my right before Him, I will seek a suspension of the contest: not once, but twice. As a rule, with each suspension, I must remove a player from the board and relinquish its life to another. However, by doing so, it is my right to select the alternate soul to replace mine. Moreover, with my first yielding of one lifetime, the random soul I select may be one whose incarnation is at a time and place of my choosing. Lucius, upon the board, I may choose from any of my facimilies; even of the two that are nameless.
“Then, regardless of the choice, the contest is postponed and I must wait a period of time for that particular soul to return; be judged and then allowed re-entry to the Storehouse of Souls where it would again wait for placement within an appropriate and receptive vessel. Dare I add if the soul fails to enter the Guff then the alternative is not so pleasant.”
“Why do I feel that I am to be the first…but you mentioned two players…if I am to be the first then who is the second?
Lucius, if you would accept, as is my right, I would choose you…for both.”
“Wait a moment. Why? Why me, especially after what I did to you?”
“Lucius, you surprise me, whom else is acquainted with the trappings of power and was able to move at ease within its courtly confines; while recognizing the many pitfalls that could befall him. True, at heart, you were once a most wary if not objectionable man and there was a certain amount of symmetry to your demise when they threw your corpse down the steps and tore you apart after strangling you. However, I surmise that debt as long since paid. That is unimportant; and that was then and this is now and I have confidence in you, that when the time comes, that though some traits may linger, that you will, do the right thing. Afterall, it is your soul and mine that are uncertain.
“You are mad!”
“Yes, perhaps it is so.”
“Is that all there is to your…your plan? What else is there in that scheme of yours that you have not spoken? What else must I know.”
“Lucius that is all you need to know and all that I will say upon the matter. The pact has been put to you and I require an answer, do you agree?”
“Just like that!? You want me to decide right here and now, without…without so much as an inkling of what you have planned or the scope of my involvement. What guarantees can you offer me? I will answer in your sted; you offer me none! What must I do to ingratiate myself to Him? Answer me! How dare you stand there still guised as a child and tempt me so! Tiberius was far more ingratiating to me than you!”
“Yes, and you killed him too. So your point is?”
“The point is that I want to know everything that there is otherwise…”
“Otherwise what? You will break your vow of silence? Listen to me, there is no need for you to know anything more than what you do now. Believe me ... I could choose anyone else but I have not.”
“Then why don’t you!?”
“I have my reasons, which are many and varied. Seianus, you possess all the qualities that are necessary for success: you are intelligent, resourceful, and at times quite inventive; yet you are prone to a fault to the trappings of power that have led to your downfall. Besides, those with too glib a tongue have at times, swayed you and that my dear Lucius is the crux of the matter. In short, the one I select must contain those characteristics, which would lead either him or her to the pinnacle of success or to the depths of ultimate failure and ruin. In short, there must be the intrinsic factor of uncertainty. He would not allow it otherwise.
“Lucius, the initial moment of uncertainty commences when you stand before Him and accept my selection. He will want to know what prior knowledge of events is yours. Without further knowledge, you may reply so He may assess and validate your honesty that; “As of now, truly, I know nothing.”
“And when He asks the same of you, then what…we both fall on our swords before Him!?”
“No. You really don’t understand do you. He will not ask that of me. He cannot nor will He. Nor will He cheat me, for whatever the reason; consequently, I am above his invasive scrutiny as long as I play the game with Him. He is honor bound, as am I.
“Lucius, He prides Himself and consequently would not seek my knowledge to gain a limited and unfair advantage; to do so would taint Him. Besides, He understands, that for Him there is no need to do so. Moreover, He has never taken advantage of one who fairly contests with Him. Therefore, as long as I contest, between each roll of the di, I am free to go wherever I wish, whenever I wish, without challenge, without scrutiny and without fetters. Those are the rules by which we play but when the di is again to be cast, I must arrive, and then, he who sits before Him will play but a part.”
“No. It is a fool’s errand, which you ask of me. You offer me little; in fact you offer me nothing.”
“Not true, I offer you a glimmer of hope; nothing, is the extent of hope you now posses. Obviously, you are disinclined to agree therefore I will cede to you on this matter and consider the point as moot.
“I will leave you now as my appointed time to play grows near. When I move to re-enter the Stadium, please, make certain that I am not stopped again by any of your cohorts. You know how punctual He is. He would not take lightly to my delay.”
“Wait a moment, why do you jest and threaten me?”
“I do not threaten, from certain experiences, which where of your making, I state the obvious. I now take my leave of you.”
“You’re just going to walk away from me, just like that!?”
“Yes, I see no reason to continue; do you? Afterall, you are uncomfortable not only with my presence but also with my proposal and have expressed your misgivings; Lucius I respect them, therefore the matter is dropped and I will find another, one who…ohh…never mind.”
“One who what... Sissy …what where you going to say…you cannot leave me here…not like this…what is that you would further coax me with?”
Coax you? I…coax you? It was not my intent to coax you nor will I attempt to sway you with promises that cannot be kept: especially by me. I just thought that you would consider the challenge as adequate inducement. But I was wrong so good-bye.”
“No, wait! There is more is there not?”
“Well…truth be known…there is one little bit of information which I may have…let us say…omitted? There is no need to glare, be patient. How shall I phrase this…a moment…wait…yes. As I said, I would select only you from among all others and cede to you two consecutive lives, time and place of my choice of course. However, I must stress again that the second selection is contingent upon the success of the first. Shall I go on? Good, well then…
“As I stated, presuming success of the first I am then allowed to choose again; the problem is that I must live concurrently though at odds with my second choice and at times, for you, it would be most complicated; especially with the choices you would make. Lucius, if you succeed then what is there left to say that I may be able to coax you with? Shall I speak to you of honor or of fame? No, not here, not now, not ever. I would rather tender your eventual understanding to be found in the meaning of the words of triumph “Victoria Ave” as sufficient inducement.
“There, that is all of it.”
“Well?”
“Sissy, do you remember what I asked of you before I…ran you through?”
“Praefectus, how could I forget? I refused your order before the Emperor himself.”
At iam nunc ego verba loquar c-um excusatione asperitatis &. (Yes, but here and now I speak those words with bitterness and apologize). Assentior (I agree). Absolute concede sententiam tuam. (I agree unconditionally to your proposal).
Sissy…Ave Caesar, qui morituri te absolutum. (Sissy…Hail Caesar, we who are about to die, salute you).
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“Sissy? Why do you not return my hail in affirmation? Are you in some manner displeased that you now turn your other cheek to me and walk away? I ask you, stop, and return that we may speak.”
“Lucius, I will stop, but after all this time, why do you still offend me so? Perhaps our accord is in error and I should release you from your vow and be gone.
“Sissy? How have I slighted you? Why do you speak so? I do not understand, please, turn and face me once again, if only for the moment. As was my custom, I thought only to affirm our pact; I did not consider my words to you as…”
“Lucius, was it not my refusal to hail or utter those same words to Caesar himself which prompted his displeasure of me? Was it not under his studious gaze of affirmation that you took your satisfaction of ridding yourself of me, at his behest? Lucius Seianus, the impetus, the core that drives you, still: remains. That is also the reason why I have selected you. You offer both Him and me a challenge. You slew me once, but now I ask, would you do so again, even with words?”
“No Sissy never would I do so, I too am bound. You were there and silently bore witness against me as I pleaded to Him at Judgement for another chance: that I would never contemplate the thought of harming you ever again; nor would I do so; even if ordered.”
“So you say now, but what if you were not…”
“I swear to you here, that I have honored my pledge. I ask you, here and now, what more can I do?”
“Well you may ask and I would reply, true, that here, and to this moment Seianus, you have been content, and have, for the most, emulated one who is contrite. However, we both know of your dissatisfaction and unhappiness; however, what if you were not…here? What if you were so otherwise tempted…mortally…elsewhere…what would you do?”
“Sissy, we both know what would befall me if I were to ever dare harm you again. That is, for me, explicitly forbidden! If I were to harm you…”
“Yes, if you were, but then again, that eventuality is only if you managed to do so. However, it is necessary that upon my selection, that when you come before Him again, you not feign a lapse in memory. Therefore, as is my right, I ask that you enlighten us both again, as to what may happen if it were to occur.”
“Sissy, I do not see how this is necessary, besides, your presence at the Game…is required…I feel it is to be announced shortly…and if you should fail to appear then…”
“Then, when I am late, I will announce that you hailed me for cause; and as a result of a bargain of which we had willfully entered, tarried with your required explication of the consequences inherent with failure; thus delaying me; therefore, it will again be your fault.”
“That is Blackmail!”
“No, that is finding the middle ground. Now explain.”
“Sissy, you…you are…a most exasperating little…never mind…have it your way; but now that I face you, has anyone told you that you are…almost impossible to deal with? Never have I found you in one place long enough for any length of time to speak with, except for now, when it suits you; otherwise, have you always run from me. Always when you were close, almost within my reach, have you evaded me: peculiarly disappearing in the blink of an eye; as if upon a whim, flitting about to wherever you deem it necessary that you are moved to journey. Constantly leaving me here wondering as to when I might finally implore you and now that I have you at this time, you …”
"You, my dear Lucius, now have my ear… proceed.”
“And you are a most vexing little…nevermind. Be it as you wish little Caesar…to clarify…I, Lucius Seianus, understand that upon transition, that all souls must again enter the Hall of Judgement, come before Him and become self-evident. I agree and will do so again regardless of the consequences to myself…or you. There, I have said it.”
“No, it remains incomplete, that is but the first portion, proceed with the remainder; and Lucius, presently the sarcasm does not endear you.”
“You are indeed a niggling little sprite. If there were another means to this end believe I would have found it rather than strike a bargain with the likes of you; I fear I will regret it.”
“Seianus, you flatter me to no end with such confidence. Go on.”
“Hmmph. Very well. Furthermore, I acknowledge that once within the Halls confines that one cannot halt the processional in which one finds himself as they are bound to move towards the Lord of lords and His great throne. Sissy? A moment. To all souls here, this is common knowledge, especially to us both: why do you persist in this pettiness?”
“Lucius, as we stand together, we will either succeed or fall as one. He will want to know if you truly understand the profundity of your undertaking and as such to avoid misunderstanding; nothing, must be left unsaid. Therefore, if you would be so kind, continue.”
“Sissy, the many times I have walked here, I have thought myself alone and as I strode I have often thought of what words I might offer to you as recompense, though I must admit, to my mind still, that none will suffice. But now, I swear to you, regardless of what may occur that I will not contest my eventual judgement or turn away as many have, nor as I have done so prior. Instead I will faithfully do as you ask. Nor shall I seek an alternative path that I may hide, avoid or remove myself surreptitiously from His eventual gaze. I acknowledge that there is but one path of movement in this matter before Him: inexorably forward.
“Sissy is that sufficient or must I now revisit the unspeakable moment of Judgement yet again?”
“Lucius, I would simply explain that the course of action upon which we will embark, unavoidably demands that our minds eye maintains certain clarity; as such, it is necessary for us both to hear your words, make haste of your enlightenment.”
“You speak of clarity while I consider the obvious; that there is considerable peril in what we would do. I fear this is a fool’s errand and that the Gallery of the Gods themselves shall, at our expense, laugh heartily.”
"Hmmm, Lucius you are so dour a soul, if that were the case, then consider the most pleasant consequence of our demise, as cost for our entertainment, perhaps they shall die laughing. Continue.”
“Sissy, it would appear that I have long underestimated your impudence; is that the endearing quality of which you spoke and why He favors you? Perhaps, at another time, I too would laugh at your irreverent humor and would find the strength to be as bold and as witty as you appear to be. However, for some reason, you appear and sound to me more brash and impertinent than even I remember.
“But I digress and what flowing words I might have offered to you are now lost to me. Instead, from memory, I remember that as the processional advances, inexorably some souls, are overcome, frought with fear and cry out, as have I, as they in file approach the Throne upon which He sits, comprehending that their final moment of judgement is now upon them. Many others, while not ovetly fearful, still approach with reticence harboring those events of which they are shameful. Scores more, behold the grandeur that surrounds them and sullenly proceed, perceiving not only their intimate failings but also are remorsefully aware of what they had squandered in life and of what they may fail to attain; entry into his Kingdom. Of course, there are countless others, who draw near…joyously. Regretfully, I did not share that realization and though I closed my eyes to His appearance, fearing the Light, I, none-the-less found myself cowering in His presence; such is His majesty. Within an instant, He knew all of me and…and…”
“Seianus?”
“And so Sissy, here I am; finally speaking aloud with you of what may befall me. Many times I had thought it would have been better to yield myself to the darkness of hell itself rather than disappoint Him further with my persistant shortcomings. And you Sissy…you warrant an alternative, a selection, better than I.
“Sissy, I have been judged and found lacking twice; with failure, I would be announced before all and led to Him again. Moreover, before all, He would again pass His Judgement upon me. Sissy, consider, in this endeavor, if I were to…fail you…that you too would suffer greatly; perhaps more than I; and it would be as if it were by my hand yet again. Understanding this with His final Word…I would be condemned; cast from Heaven’s heights and dismissed from His prescence not only as lacking but also as…unacceptable. That would be the extent of His terrible Judgement upon me.
“Oddly, speaking now and aloud to you, I feel that I have spoken these same words before; or, do I purely dread that loss? Sissy, I would willingly fall upon my sword a thousand times than speak further of this as it is known what would happen to me then.
“Then the disconsolate visage we fear most, as tasked by Him, would descend upon you. Moreover, there, before all, the fire, which springs from her soul, would sear your heart and that would be but the beginning; for then, you would fall from Heaven’s door: never to rise again. And then Lucius…
“And then, upon the conclusion of my plunge, nearby, within the edge of the heart of darkness, those vile souls that wait for the discarded to arrive will come forth. And there among the damned, I would forcefully be taken, thorougly scourged and my flesh laid bare to the bone. Then, I would find myself fastened upon the eternal fires, rendered daily limb from limb until such time as…please…little herald I do fear…and greatly. I…
“Lucius, be at ease, the realization of that intrinsic fear is quite enough. It is agreed, and I affirm our vow, you must…succeed…or we both inevitably will face the demons of own making. Now we must part ways until such time, with my selection, that you are summoned to stand before Him again.”
“Little one, will you not explain further, of what role I am to play?
“Well stated Lucius, but no.”
“Still you speak in riddles to me? But you promised an explanation.”
"Yes, I did and I will honor that promise at a time and place of my choosing for the all-encompassing haloed silence, which precedes His arrival, announces the necessity of my presence before Him. Time is short Lucius and I must now take my leave of you.
“Lucius, steel yourself, for when I go before Him I will immediately ask for the delay and from among those unamed pieces select you. We will meet again, shortly, but only prior to your inception at the Storehouse of Souls.”
“And then what shall we do?”
“Then Lucius, I shall tender you a name and a request; then we both shall go our seperate ways. You, to embody the first I have selected, and I…am afraid that you must now wait not only for my explanation but also to be hailed in a manner suitable to one such as you.
"Now, we must turn go and our separate ways, for those who lurk nearby grow restless and move closer. Turn and turn quickly for while we have served our purpose here we have tarried far too long.”
("Little brother we are moving again away and…” No sister, as you watch him leave us you’re thoughts are absolutely wrong, we remain in place; events turn on us; besides, I am not as callous, especially to him, as you think; for I truly do feel sorry for him and my thought to you is…“Can we”…no…absolutely not….“And why is that pray…”I told you don’t interrupt. Because of all the places we can go we may not visit the Guff as your being…“yes…I see…I understand, my soul would be detected."
"I’m sorry, force of habit; besides I’m a little nervous, still, anyway I… ”
"Please, some peace and quiet after all we are at Heaven’s door and…"
"I know them…I know them, I know the names you would give…”
"Oh Really? Then I take it you have…"
"Yes, I know I believe I have it all figured…”
"No, your understanding is incomplete and…“
"Then I want to go there I want to…”
"Yes I know you do but…"
"No…I won’t, I promise…cross my heart and hope to…well…no…not yet anyway. But I’ll be good, honest I will I promise I promise I promise. I have to know…”
"Sister, for the moment be absolutely quiet, I beg you. It is little wonder that both you and your mother are as you both are. Now, in a moment of relative calm may I expound without your constant, incessant and unremitting chatterbox interruptions.........Yes, silence at last, but for how long?”
"Be that way, but I’ll be good, you'll see, I promised.
“Well at least think me the names so I can make sure that I was right before we get there…right now it’s the least you can do for... Oh, sorry.”
“Yes, as am I. Now, before you think another thing we approach the moment of your desire, the Game, and yes the names that I chose are as those you have now discerned and before you think another thought to me, DON’T! Allow me the courtesy. The first selected was one Nicolas Bion while the second indeed was Werhner…
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Maximillian. It was necessary to establish both without generational peers while at the same time exposing each to the inherent temptations of that immediate moment; how else could either succeed without their instinctive frailties so manifestly tested? And no, it was not “simply a self-serving act on my part” and your base thought is without merit. Do you not understand; that there and then in the train, when he and Joachem spoke; tacitly within Maximillian he knew what would happen. In every manner possible, he tortuously pondered the obvious, considered the various avenues and their costs and finally at last placed the interests of another above his own. In that conflicted moment of self-sacrifice, he played the game; honored his pledge, and was, in every manner true to his oath. Moreover, there, so doing, found what he so deeply lacked here: that savings grace, one that would not only endear him but save us both as well.
“Sister, you have yet to understand that mortal failure is an eventuality that in this reality has always existed; however, it has, till this moment, merely passed us by. That is why we journey: for what would occur upon our return has yet to unfold. Yours is the remaining wild card played that is unaccounted.
“However, your continued unease and your many thoughts to me at the moment are estimable. Nonetheless, before we arrive enmasse, do you wish to pause and further reflect, if only for a moment; or…no, I do not jest. My wording is accurate. In an instant, both you and I shall visit that moment and when we simultaneously arrive there will be the others, who too shall step forth from their respective entrances; and there we shall together convene.
“Sissy, I mean Christopher, yes stop, please stop…at least for the moment…and do forgive me it’s my stomach, but…ohh thank god you stopped I thought I was going to get sick and and…oh my that’s much better…but…”
“But…first, I apologize for thinking that you were such a cold and utterly calculating little green eyed monster of a soul…and…well…yes…a little cruel too.”
“Sister, your continuing Homeric epithets* compliment me to no end.”
“Now, now, I honestly wasn’t aware of such and please don’t be so testy and snide. I admit it…I was wrong…and as far as my use of such epithets…well…for that, you do have a right to be upset with me…but…but… excepting that… I was thinking, that in what I have just witnessed that there is so much more to all of this.
“Oh really? Would you care to explain?”
“Yes, I believe I would and that I know, at least, this much. That somehow, the various entries’ you speak of are exclusive and perhaps monitored corridors of passage, but only for the one who plays the Game: thus allowing rapid access into a crucial portion of the Stadium. Furthermore, if I too were to wager, I would presume, if only for the sake of convenience that these portals are in some widely, disparate manner, scattered about hither and yon; none within either site or contact of the other. This means that from any direction desired, timely, immediate and if necessary surreptitious access is granted. In a manner of fashion, it is a celestial roundabout, an infinite maze of passagways. Now what do you think?”
“I would think: all your thoughts are presumptuous suppositions, poppycoc-k if not hearsay.”
“No, for some reason, I think otherwise. For then upon entry, it is without further hindrance and straight on to sit before Him to play what you both term the Game; and I believe that I know what you would do…or is it…have already done? Perhaps it is both? In any event that would bring me to what has transpired with Seianus. It’s all beginning to come together and add up and you… you truly are indeed a mischievious yet endearing little scamp; I find myself growing fonder of you by the moment.”
“That little incident just I witnessned… you deliberately used your position to challenge Lucius outright and practically dared him to hinder your entry.
“I did?”
“Yes you did. In fact, you brazenly made it a point and twice went out of your way to impress upon him what would happen if he or any of his sentinels were to question your entry; thus causing you, to be late; emphasizing that the culpability would be his or theirs or both. You planned it. However, we both know it was but a ruse but for a greater purpose! However, hypothetically speaking, I must admit that if successful, it would be a most clever diversion.”
“Hypothetically speaking? I perceive a certain logic…that is…if it succeeded of course.”
“Of course you do you little mouser. Moreover, as assurance, at almost the same moment, you belittled him.”
“As a feline? Did I now?”
“Yes you did and as a cat you toyed with him. You called the lot of them “cohorts” when you yourself understood that he was the responsible party who initially coined that expression and organized those who formally had comprised the Royal Praetorian Guard who surrounded Caesar. What you just did was to use his innate fear of you to gain an advantage and while you may have not broken the rules of the game you most certainly influenced his probable course of action; or, was it his inaction of which we now speak and hoped for?
“Mere conjecture for I spoke naught of this.”
“You’re not going to say a word about this to me now are you; very well then allow me one little moment.”
“I allow you, the seer, several, proceed.”
“The thrust of the matter is little one, that you made certain he feared not only your immediate anger, but also certain retribution to such a degree, that he and his sentries would certainly allow whomever they presumed to be you, entry to the Game, without impediment. Of course, each of the sentries posted knows of you, if only by sight; but who among them would be able to discern the various comings and goings or subtle nuances comprised of your reflections who too I presume are lurking somewhere about: none, for they are impossible to differentiate.
“Sister, we neither lurk nor mill for here we are at all times self-evident.”
“Self-evident you say? Yet Seianus said otherwise.”
“Oh? Did he now?”
“Yes…I mean no…wait a moment…wait...but a second longer…oh my. How droll.”
“You find amusement?”
“Oh my yes indeed I do. Wehrner probably died with a smile on his lips while laughing and you are a little scalawag! Whenever the game was to be played, Lucius thought it was you who would repeatedly hide behind a curtain and cry before the appointed time. How positively out of character for a little soul like you. That is what this is all about! It is an elaborate charade! Each of your reflections plays a part as in a play upon a stage. And for all intent and purpose it began here, in thought, ever so long before your appearance at Gestapo Headquarters. Was that your own mortal proving ground?
“Hail victory. To them, at first, it had a pleasant ring to it; but from experience and if you listened closely, it too sounded hollow.”
“With the greatest of respect, Little Sissy, I understand. However, in Heaven, it is not as hollow as the emptiness, which mortally has ever pursued your heart, and that stratagem hatched from unspeakable experience. But I remain puzzled as to the how it was at all possible that you were able to arrange a simultaneous arrival of those participants; what could you do that would so flawlessly summon each?”
“If you await a clever riposte nothing will be adequate to the moment. Have you nothing to say?”
“Yes, ever the Socratic you lead me to the answer. The logical conclusion is the clarion call of the Perfect Silence; it is that, and only that, which announces His arrival and beckons you without fail to return immediately or face the consequences.
“My goodness, I believe that I can see it all now. Inevitably, the pervasive silence rings out and regardless of place or time it is the summoning call upon which you, it is you is it not, invariably and most faithfully return. I must envision that in the meantime, there, at each separate portal of entry are the various sentries with orders: to, of course, admit only you. That is the crux of the matter for I have learned, even from my professed limited experience, that you are a moving if not motivating force.
“Therefore, somewhere, wherever or whenever that moment is, each waits for you and upon the call you move each into position. Then what happens is palpable: as if from out of nowhere, each enters this realm upon que, simultaneously, though each from separate portals and then, surreptitiously, each leaves; but only after there has been an exchange to you of pertinent information.
“I could stop there but I have gleaned more. “He who sits before Him will play but a part!” Christopher, somewhere inbetween you even manged to exchange places! The question is not only how but also when and was it within the rules of the Game?”
“Sister, we remain for your benefit paused in transit to converse, but still you cut me to the quick to infer that I would so cheat. I did no such thing nor would I contemplate cheating Him. First, there are no written rules to the Game, only suggested guidelines, especially those pertaining to substitutes: He deemed none necessary. Second, it is played infrequently, and those few souls who had previously engaged Him, invariably lost on the first round, besides not another soul was foolhardy enough to take his place in midgame.
“However, your extrapolation is in part correct, how else could we gain entry without challenge? I would answer that given experience garnered mortally elsewhere that I seized the moment and audaciously acted. I took the instruction of Homer and the knowledge of Odysseus and applied it to the moment. Moreover, what you believe otherwise to have occurred is misconstrued: and let me make this crystal clear; technically, not a solitary soul took…my place. At one time or another…all did.
“Now, shall we proceed to the Mirrored Iconostasis of the Stadium or do you wish to linger?”
______________________
*Homer made use of what is known as epithets. Repetively he would interject prior to the noun or person an adjective or verb which graphically described the character’s origin, ancestry, appearance or position, a particular skill-set, rank, or heroic quality; Eg., Rosy-fingered dawn. Or Catherine the great or The Great Emancipator as a substitute for Abraham Lincoln. Special epithets are used exclusively for a particular character, while generic epithets are used repeatedly for a class of characters.
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“If you please, I request, that we remain, if only for the moment to consider the paramount question of why? Why in the world, or in all of Heaven, would at one time or another, any, dare take your place? What possible purpose would it serve and why would you trouble yourself to co-ordinate such an event in such a manner?”
“Perhaps mistakenly you dare imply a matter of bravado if not expediency? Sister, understand, while too few, time is just a place and each mortal moment is indeed fleeting, I ask you to consider, though it may appear otherwise, who among us here is able to be in more than one place at a time: certainly not I; for I too am bound by convention.”
“Yes I can see your point…certainly not you… well…at least not you alone that is but…”
“Then the seer implies otherwise; perhaps a secret intention? If so, pray tell…postulate o’ wondrous one the obvious.”
“Why thank you for the compliment and very well then, I was just thinking, taken as a whole, if I was as capable as you, and before I continued to play the Game, I, would find it necessary to verify the countless possibilities that would occur: only then, would I, proceed to roll the di. Before that moment, I would have made every effort to verify, that in this reality, the one in which we find ourselves together now, that all would happen as expected. Ergo, you would have left little to chance. Besides, you have all but implied as much yourself: so there you have it. Well?
“Well? Well? Is that it? Is that all? How insufferably proud you are of such an inadequate resolution: so ordinarily trite, amazingly pedestrian and utterly wrong, off beam and wide of the mark for one such as yourself. I expected more but here I stand in awe corrected and in error. Conceivably, you are not as insightful as once I hope you to be. Perhaps it is better to proffer you as a clown and remember you henceforth thusly. ““Alas, poor Aeryn. I once knew her well. But cudgel your brains no more about it for your dull ass will not mend its pace even with a beating.*””
“Why do you quote Shaekspear to me now and insult me as both slow and dimwitted? I am neither. I thought I was perceptive enough to understand it all and in the end that I….”
“End? End? I ask to what end you would speak. Take care seer, for I do not insult, I state the offensive vision you alone perceive in this mistaken conclusion: is not only that of failure but also of certain condemnation. I ask, whose veiled acts of hubris, would lend them to our undoing? I would answer: they are yours alone, one officious in the affairs of the unspoken. Have you so soon forgotten that those probabilities had reasonably been established to a point with you becoming the proverbial fly in the ointment? Besides which your conclusion is fatally flawed.
“But I ask you; consider the crux of the matter, that with such a presumption, those many that would have lived shall too shortly perish upon a thought: one that is by your own hand and solely of your making. Dear dear sister your memory of events and those words that comprised their illumination is sadly short lived and lacking the serene clarity of insight. On the other hand, perhaps those common place acts to which you attribute key importance are otherwise and for some reason perceived are themselves…misdirected.
“Therefore, I will wait…but only for you. When I deign it so, we shall proceed as agreed upon and in concert. Therefore, I linger for the moment as we pause, then would turn without misstep; and in so doing, the hour hangs suspended. Acting together…we truly do kill time as it washes clean.
“More the pity for I feel you are suddenly chilled and no, I do not threaten you, just the opposite. Have I, your little brother, not promised to keep you unharmed? Moreover, have I not assisted and fulfilled in part your heretofore-untapped potential? There is no need to counter quickly…instead, here, in silence and without those attributes, for which you are noted, those persistantly unmanageable incessant mutterings and random undisciplined musings that as effluent disruptively escape your personage; please, do consider your surroundings.
“You’re being mean and dreadfully sarcastic to me.”
“No, for the moment, with you, I am and must be, frank; how else can I be when you persist in such thoughtless drivel by reiterating the obvious in this moment of need as newfound insight: when it is neither pristine, nor focused, when others so dearly depend upon you and what must be especially obvious, terminally escapes you; as whom you would love. What more can I do than allow you the moment to stand at ease and at last conclude what is necessary without diversion?”
“Diversion? Diversion? You insult me and consider my personal thoughts a distraction?”
“I do not insult; as do you, I infer. Besides, those are the discordant thoughts, which hold the truth, which for the moment chaotically flee you. Sister, many of your perceptions are still nothing more than incoherant dissonant ramblings; and as there are several at issue, admittedly some personal; shall I, as a ferret, pluck and choose that which merely suits the moment or summarily lay all to rest and allow you, through me, to begin anew?”
“You little weasel you went into my mind and read my thoughts!”
“I perceive by your stately poise and charm that I have been elevated in status and no longer qualify as merely feline; yet I did no such thing. I merely waited for the opportune moment, that which without effort on my part would eventually avail itself. I took no liberties…at least…not with you.”
“Nonsense! You most certainly have; well, almost that is. After all, you were inside me; in a manner of fashion that is. But if you have not taken advantage of me, then pray tell of whom do you speak?”
“At last a well phrased cogent question interspersed with levity and well you may ask it for I am not at liberty to say and have so sworn; hence the dilemma. Yet the question remains, shall we begin anew or do you posses the tenacity to resolve the conundrum.”
“I cannot allow that.”
“You cannot allow? How bold the thought for one so cold such as you! How would it be otherwise, when even one such as you understands, that you alone cannot move to stop me?”
“True, but you would diminish yourself by doing so and as a consequence loose everything for even I understand that the ultimate choice presented must be mine; at least I remember that. You have said as much and by God, I will hold you to it. If only by chance it were so otherwise decided, I would consider the prospect; but I will not willingly let you decide my fate or that of others whom you claim in this matter depend upon my perceptions. You cannot nor will you take from me that which you promised; moreover, I fear and I will not risk it besides which I am not frigid!”
“Honesty with risk while invoking His name…an interesting and at odds position for an agnostic. However, presently with you, I too take nothing but, a chance; though I am curious, why here would you now trust to probability or even blind fate? It is an ethereal intimation for so would be pragmatic a soul. Perhaps there is a glimmer of hope for us yet; but then again nothing ventured is a certainty, is it? Well, is it? Why so abruptly silent? Well? Why so silent? Has the cat at last your tongue or is there something else; something found: intrinsically more?”
“No, I mean yes. I mean it’s because for once I suddenly hear…nothing…no noise…no sound…no clamor or voices that have for so long boggelled my mind…all are gone…I hear absolutely nothing except…the perfectly faultless silence…I did not understand that which is so quiet and exquisitely calm and tranquil.”
“Nothing more, is that it, nothing you add as an addendum? No outbursts or random icy musings? How strange the moment and odd is your newfound stillness. Permit an observation that the tranquillity of the moment equates to your change of temperament: balanced and at last symmetrical. Right now, if one could truly see, as you profess, in your mind, picture a simple query: how is it that you find yourself here no longer frightened and dare I add, on the face of it now able to believe.
“My serene sister, I would ask your immediate and pertinent thoughts on the matter at hand for I had promised you untold experience. However, I solicit, why so silent? Is there something within you that precludes your insight and acc-umine? Such a fault, if it did exist, would hypothetically, be of little benefit and leave you, or us, in the end, with little chance for success; thereby all but guaranteeing the certainty of failure; it presents a most formidable impediment. But here we are again discussing the probability of cold chance and the odds of our success which are daunting; are they not. Reasonably, one so gifted such as you would seek to not only lessen but also to possibly eliminate such an obstacle; and in leveling the playing field, gain certain clarity of mind, would she not? But here we are, truly on a fools errand, together. If only for transparency, I would again now warmly prod your…decision in yourself to trust.
“Still no reply and you remain silent as the grave. Why so stone cold silent? How can it be that in an undemanding moment you find yourself at last speechless? Now would be a good time for a word, perhaps two or more would do? Very well, remain In Situ until you perceive those inklings. That newfound quality dear sister is to your credit; for only a fool would rush in where even certain angels fear to tred. But then again I would ask which of us is truly the fool? Have it your way…we shall remain in silence…a second more.”
“You must…you must be mad, no bold, no neither! I don’t know which! You are not only foolhardy but also audaciously impudent!”
“Really? Sister, with words you have turned my head with so many compliments? Why so suddendly voiced? What have you found?”
“I hesitate to say it but you are one trouble making impudent deceptive green eyed proud misleading little sprite.”
“Misleading? Sister, I’m not at all certain that I am truly all of those which you ascribe to me but with so many attributes you have roused my curioustiy, a least a little; continue.”
“Up until just moments ago, I had no idea of how…how utterly…truly…wily and sly a child you are.”
“And here I thought you were finished citing my outstanding traits; but for the record and through no fault of my own I only look like a child. In sum, I am after all, old.”
“Yes I remember what you said, you’re older than me. My sincerest apologies elder; of course, I understand that you are, after all, very very old.”
“Did you just insult me?”
“No, take it as a compliment for you wear your age well.”
“I had little choice in the matter.”
“Yes, on that you had none what soever. But, putting that aside, I know now what you did!”
“Do you now. Dare I ask in this newfound moment the obvious question of “What did I do?” Moreover, will your thoughts at last be cogent and applicable to the moment?”
“I will explain what I perceive and take no offense; but before I do for some reason I hear through the silence an overpowering voice which declares “I definitely have a sense of humore”…and…and…“little angel she is your proof of it; but once was enough; go home.” Sissy…I hear Him laughing!
__________________
* Hamlet, Act 5, scene 1, lines 50 -59.
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“Laughter? Laughter? Pray tell how that can be while I hear naught sound or word. Would you at this moment, convenietly have me believe that He would now speak to me solely through you? Dear sister, most certainly this is not the time for presumptuous “idol” humor; besides it peculiarly assumes that of us two, you alone, are too an entitled intimate soul with Him.”
“Yes I mean no. Sissy, I mean Christopher; please do not play your word games with me. You went out of your way and warned me of others who would know of our presence yet conveniently omitted His omniscient prescience and as a gullible fool, you took me in and led me straight away here. Moreover, the obvious contradiction was evident from the first. You knew what would happen to us before we arrived; you said as much and I not only refused to listen to you, although I had no thought as to the capacity of your endeavor; nor of what He really thinks of you and before you acerbically chastise me again for my shortcomings, I ask, stay your acid tongue.”
“Your hearts desire is now mine; proceed.”
“Admittedly, all of the hints and double entendres along the way, were for my benefit and as a fool, I looked past each. I understand I was truly sightless; now perhaps, I am no longer. This trip, this excursion to another realm is more than I had hoped for; thank you. I ask we return home before something untowards occurs; namely that I would loose myself again.”
“Loose yourself? How drol; the all-seeing doubter, a self-admitted fool, now finds she fears loss and would loose the intangible, when it is that very fear of the indescribable which has caused her to be here. Very well but before I can take you home there must be no doubt; therefore I will ask in all seriousness: what do you really know of it all?”
“I know more now than I had bargained for and that without a helping hand I might have ruined it all for you.”
“I see, said the blind one, but this most certainly is not the time for light humour.”
“You are indeed a rascal, little gnomon, but I now believe it is the proper time; for He told as much and what misconceptions I might have had are no more.”
“The agnostic now claims to speak with the voice of Authority; how disconcerting.”
“Yes, but what is more perplexing is you. Sissy, what I have relayed was not all of what I heard from Him, somehow, there in a flicker of light, with every word he spoke, He showed me what occurred between you two just as if over time, I was actually there. He made it clear that even before the Game began, every move you made regardless of time was meticulously plotted and your every spoken word was in itself, relevant and purposefully cryptic; and overtly, it began with a solitary act of kindness involving the forgiveness of Seianus.
“Understand His thought of you from the first was far removed from His portals and entailed more than that of a veiled pixie; one merely garbed in golden splendor that would stroll throughout His ethereal realm; to Him, you were one which He understood waited patiently for a cause. Sissy, for some reason, from the very first, you had piqued his curiosity. When you arrived, He waited for you and allowed you free reign long before the first roll of the di and from that moment on, whether others surrounding Him were aware or not, to Him, the Game was afoot. You were to become His conundrum.
“Patiently He waited for any sign or warning that would portend inherent evil within you; but you provided Him none. In fact, it was just the opposite. He sat and watched from afar as you collected Lucius’ tears as they flowed from the base of the Wailing Stone and then hastily secreted them away. Admittedly curious as to the time you would do something, He waited for that moment. He knew that eventually they would be presented and judged to the extent of their regret. Until then He stayed His hand and did nothing.
“Unknown to Him, in secrecy, from a prior moment, determined by youself, Seianus’ forgiveness became part of your endeavor; but only a small portion of your grand plan. Ingeniously, you sought to insure its success; but to do so, one needed to be not only above His imperious scrutiny but also able to move without hindrance or impediment. Reasonably, you conjectured that the Game would provide you that opportunity where, prior to selection, you would altruistically present those tears to Him for judgement: an act of kindness became in itself a gambit. From that moment on in some manner, away from scrutiny, you extrapolated each separate contingency.
“Ages later, eventually finding success in the incarnations of Bion and of Maximillian your eventual plan unwearyingly proceeded as envisioned. Through it all you conspicuously flouted but few of your many abilities to those about you: choosing to remain apart from others so that on occasion you could move unobtrusively through time and take only four trusted others with you. Through it all, except for the One, Who though slightly disbelieving of your capabilities, none others in Heaven was the wiser.
“Of course, He understood that the general rules or guidelines of the Game aided if not abetted in your ruse: or is the better term to use, your use of misdirection in order to gain some manner of advantage; but still He remained pleased with your imagination and initiative. From there He understood and accepted the actuality that misdirection, if not slight of hand, would become a key to your developing reality. Sissy, He was pleased at your progress for who else could be in more than one place at a time. Admittedly, certainly not you alone, but now He understands that with the assistance of certain others, who, at key moments could and did sit at the table and speak in your stead it became …very controllable.
“Of course, as per the rules, ostensibly, He more than honored his obligation and again, though suspicious, He never challenged those who, as you have said, did play but a part; as for all intent and purpose, each was a mirror image of you and for those in attendance; none except perhaps He was the wiser. He reasons that somehow, some time prior, you had concluded that without his pervasive insight, he never would realize the subterfuge and even He did, He still had the upper hand: you were, for the most, correct.
The many times as you sat before Him and the Game progressed the more who followed the Game knew more of your past; especially of your encounter with Odysseus who hid within a wooden horse; however unknown to all, you elected to hide in His plain site. As a matter of course, eventually over time, despite the sum of what would be bartered, there comes an end to every game; a final accounting, a reckoning must take place, and the Game you played with Him was, in that respect, no different.
“When that inevitable moment arrived the all encompassing silence rang out; calling all in its splendor: Attend. Unknown to others, all whom you simultaneously summoned too, did so as well. He muses that for some reason none were challenged or delayed upon entry; now He knows why.
“Shortly thereafter, and most certainly as seen by all, He muses, that lone entity which so hesitantly entered the stadium…was not you. Truthfully, you spoke when you stated you were not able to be in two places at one time; therefore, at that moment, the indescernible likeness of your choice had taken your place, but only after conversing communally with the others who entered the same anteroom. As had become the norm, just prior to the grand entry, each would exchange information and after entry thereafter disperse. He now finds it equally amusing that unknown to all, others too in your stead, had similarly played previously; thus affording you the opportunity to play and research almost simultaneously and without notice nor without breach of the rules. If only for that, He considers you a most enterprising soul.
“Be that as it may, it is on this last occasion, your pronounced facsimile entered, and as was the norm; paused for an acceptable period of time and looked about and warily acknowledged all. Then, further took in the moment and with arms raised, turned full circle and proceeded to stand before the great table upon which the board and pieces lay. Sissy, at that moment, all present knew of your form and to each there, there was no doubt of who stood before them or contended: all presumed it to be you: including Him.
“Of course as was and is His nature, in radiance, He simply appeared, fully seated high upon His thrown; leaned forward with grace acknowledging the presence of who He assumed to be you with a stately bow of His head. Then, with a wave of His hand directed at the cushion, motioned to you “Be seated” and then both who sat at the table played but a part. Sissy, it is the Rule of Law in Heaven, that when he nods His assent, it is a bond an unbreakable affirmation if not corroboration of His acc-umen.
“At that moment, all in attendance understood that the inevitable role of the di was then to occur; but only after the reiteration of the wagers’ ultimate stakes: forfeiture, acceptance of defeat, submission or the unlikely event of winning; and the latter was summarily dismissed by all, including Him. Upon His nod, His opponent sat and then without word, for some reason, both smiled simultaneously at each other; as if a secret had passed between the two.
“Upon doing so, the murmur of those in attendence broke the silence for they understood what was to occur. Presumably, you would again role the di and loose, for rightly they presumed that probability and fate would dictate as always the result; and so they bartered amongst themselves. They were right, but oh so wrong. Everyone had underestimated you including Him. None dare dreamed of your brashness.
“The lynchpin of that brazen escapade upon which you embarked is simple; faith was your achor, you knew what was commonly known and utilized it; that not even He would break the rules of the game and subject you to scrutiny to gain unfair advantage. It is upon that which you played your remaining wild card of faith: a decision in yourself to trust a second more than…
“But here again, I must reiterate, before you proceeded, knowing that every thought was indeed your own; your every movement would go unchallenged and your every appearance would be taken for granted; you embarked upon your undertaking. Testing it to a point, you found that each of the indiscernible likenesses of you was accepted for what it was: you. However, here, at the last, the most difficult role-played would now occur.
“But that once again brings us back to immediate and most pressing moment.You would have to verify that you wished to proceed in the selection of whom you would choose to be your mother: if, you won the Game, that is. Understanding that you could not be in two places at one time, it became crystal clear, that the need to verify the selection immediately prior to the roll was paramount to success for you could not select incorrectly.
“He tells me that within the rules of the Game in order to succeed, one must not only willing risk all upon a wager, but also, willing to intangibly bow them ever so slightly to insure success. In short, you needed to gain an edge over your opponent: something inalterable to rely upon, something itself: unbeatable. To His mind, there was none. To yours however there was. Paradoxically, that is where your once stillborn twin sister Crystal enters.
“The part she played was no small role but was as a mime that hid many times behind curtains and cried just loud enough to be found at the opportune moment; one well versed in tears; and one, not fully separated from her brother at birth, who chose to grow and follow his lead regardless of where it takes her. As she stepped forth from him, she too was repeatedly mistaken for the beautiful little boy, whom, according to all, would predictability lose. I am told that true to form, as she sat at the table before Him she did what she did best: first, the tears rolled from her eyes as a trickle, then moved gently down her cheeks; she made it a point to wipe each away and sniffle as if in distress. Soon thereafter, she then wept uncontrollably; and the murmur throughout the Gallery of the Gods was discernable as they snickered: “Look, Sissy again cries.” After half-heartedly composing herself, she baited the trap, which you had laid, when she then made several weak attempts to take the di in hand but pulled back each time. Little one, He claims you had coached her well, especially driving home the point, that once the di had been touched that the inevitable roll could never then be delayed; they could never be placed down, they must be thrown. Reflecting upon it…He is amused.
“Time and again each masked attempt to take the di purposely came up short and with additional attempts the contorted indecisiveness grew more pronounced until at some point with each agonizing endeavor, words were mouthed, but never spoken; for to do so may well have given the game away too soon. In any event, no lips needed a jewelers’ eye to discern their heartfelt meaning, though each as in a torrent was cleary evident. “…decision, decision, a decision…just trust, trust, just trust yourself, yourself, wait, wait, wait, I need, I need, I I need a, second, a second more, a second more, wait, not yet not…”
“All remember that during a Game that such a sorrowfully tragic event as this had never, never ever, occurred before…and they were right because He was moved and out of concern and kindness to one so young, offered with voice alone…an unprecedented act of kindness…that, of course would be accepted. Nevertheless, all in attendance were aghast for few had actually heard His voice during a Game, only His many simultaneously directed thoughts to them.
“I am told that not only the stadium but Heaven itself shook with the sound of His voice gently inquiring, “Your decision? Little one, I offer without additional penalty a modest recess; do you require a second more to decide?”
“Sobbing, almost inchoherently, she merely nodded, accepted forthwith and then ran off to the anteroom feigning utter humiliation and embarrassment along the way; while knowing the trap had been sprung. When she entered, there you stood with a smile on your face for all the while you had researched whom you had chosen, had met her and now would proceed to conclude the game on your terms. You were certain of your choice.
“There, while waiting patiently to be summoned back to contend, you sent Crystal to the outer most regions of the entries knowing that once you had again entered that the need for guards would be again be useless; as you would be under His gaze, they would have withdrawn and she could leave without notice. And so it was.
“By the by, only mere seconds had passed when you heard the calling and oh what a role you played for as you entered you cried as easily as your sister and with tears flowing proceeded to once again stand at the table before him. “Well?” He intoned looking down upon your diminuitive form, “Your decision? Do you maintain a decision in yourself to trust?”
“Of course you did. And as you looked up to Him with outstretched arms you spoke ever so softly, none-the-less it was heard by all and with but the slightest quiver in your voice, “No, all mighty One,” you replied, “I…I accept…your…your act…of…of of of kindess…a decision…a decision…”
“Wishing to be kind, and spare you any further agony, He precipitously nodded His immediate assent before your next stammering word could be completed; thus interrupting your tortured words to him. The moans of those who sat and watched were quite discernable for they had experienced what had transpired before them. All knew then what was to occur: you would accept defeat and submit. That is what they knew then.
“Of course, that is not at what occurred for it soon became evident what you had done; you had purposely spoken that way and offered Him what you would call a...pregnant pause. You bet all upon an act of kindness, one upon which you could rely. That opportunity afforded itself and you closed the trap that over time you had lain.
“You waited a respectiful period of time, raised your hands to Him and then inquired so masterfully of Him, “O great One, forgive me but as You well know, I had not completed my personal thoughts to You on this matter. Therefore, that You would know what I now would speak is such as what I would have, I relinquish the veil of my thoughts to your examination and to all others who view in attendance.”
The comprehension of what He had done was not lost upon Him nor to the others in attendance: especially those dour souls who comprised The Gallery of the Gods. He would never break His own Word. Nor dismiss a given pledge. Nor, would He cheat at a game of chance for as was the norm He never lost. But, He had interrupted you and He would have to listen to what He knew would be unparalleled and as He sat upon His throne He began to smile.
“It was then you proceeded, understanding your victory was close at hand. Eloquently you addressed Him with, “Sire, O Mighty One, You had prior to my brief respite graciously offered me a second more...which was immediately accepted and by Your authority confirmed. I complete my thoughts aloud that all may hear and know what we both have now agreed to. My Lord, I will complete my thoughts as follows, "I accept...a decision in Yourself to trust...a second more...than I…You must.”
“He understood what you had done and took the di from your hands when you presented them to Him. Without a word, He rolled them for you and of course, since His is the pat hand, The Game was over and you had won. He tells me that since then nothing has been quite the same.
“That is what I know now. Now, can we go home?
-
“Sister, after more than five weeks time here you wish to return home “now” just like that and without consideration of either time or place? I would ask the cynical question, what do you really expect to find upon your return: at that exact moment when you again discover yourself, physically able to interact in what you consider to be, “your” mortal reality. Certainly, one such as you must consider that aspect of her continued existence. Pray tell, what do see “now” which will have altered for you?
“Conceivably, would you anticipate more of what you consider real as opposed to the hypothetical; or, shall it be otherwise? Questionably, shall all upon a whim “now” resume from a point prior, as if nothing had transpired, or, shall your existence itself in some manner “now” transform; diverging upon a resonate moment in time, such as “now” where newfound faith and reality at last, for you at least, coincide? I would caution, that if the first is your selection, then our journey has been in vain for you would loose the enlightenment you now so dearly prize. If on the other hand you select among the alternatives, many things would be different: perhaps substantially. “Now,” as I too have what I wanted, tell me where and when to go, the choice is now yours; specify.”
“Sissy, by all rights I should tell you specifically where to go right “now” but given circ-umstance and surroundings this is neither the time nor place; however I really don’t understand, just moments ago you claimed it was mere minutes, now it is weeks…how is that at all possible?
“Temper, temper; take heed for at this moment our every word and frequent thought are heard by all, including those presumptuous exalted who comprise the Gallery of the Gods. Sister, on our common journey here, I spoke only the truth to you, only mere minutes had passed; but “now,” Here, have you not also considered that comparably, a second to Him is as a week or more to you or me? Time, as you know it dear sister is relative, and between you and I, no pun was intended; the altered states of our existence is too affected by that subjective link. Evidently, by your astonished silence, obviously not; for without that understanding you have lost an elemental portion of yourself in time, particularly your disbelief.”
“Sissy, if I accept that at face value then what do you mean by the rest of what you have alluded to? Why do I feel that you are suddenly so callous towards me and this is another trick because if it is it is not at all funny?”
“Sister, it is no trick and most definetly it is not funny: it is most serious for neither you nor I can return to the same exact point prior to having entered this realm.”
“Then you lied to me! You said that all would resume as if nothing had happened and I believed you! You lied!”
“Did I really? No, I think not, though perhaps, it is understandable that one such as you would assume such. Certainly, I could rationalize it all away, parsing words and claim a misunderstanding on your part, but that would not be the truth of it. I told you all would resume as if nothing had happened and that no one would ever be the wiser and it could be so; that continued reality is but one truth…if…you choose it to be so. However, here, intrinsically, we both have benefitted; you have gained certain belief; therefore, there is another truth to consider. The truth of what will occur if you decide otherwise. If you choose to return to that same moment, disregarding your experience, unfortunately, you would then loose yourself for a second time and so many others, such as your children, would follow suit.”
“Sissy, I have no children!”
“Yes, that too for you is the cold truth, especially, if we returned to that exact point in your current time line; consider that aspect as fact, you do not now have nor would ever have any. Is that your heartfelt desire?”
“Aeryn, the choice you face is simple and straightforward; that enrichment which you have experienced through Him, Here, is your newfound innate understanding: it is yours to take with you, to nurture and use; if you so decide. If however, you choose to return to that same moment just prior to our passage, in essence, you would not have experienced any of this nor would you remember any portion thereof and all would resume; as I said it would. It would continue to be as if none of this had ever occurred and none, save myself, would be the wiser: including you. Consider, He would not nor will He ask you, on my behalf, to play the fool twice. Before you reply, in your heart, you understand this to be true.
“In essence, seer, the journey itself was a means to an end, a cause, to an effect. His was the prompt that caused you to act: by your own words, He said as much. He wanted you here before Him and others, otherwise, He would not have allowed you to cross over from there to Here; there, being where you still exist in the form of flesh; where Here, ethereally, it is quite another. That is the one and only truth, which you must consider for the moment and the one that I had sworn to never reveal following our game: His confided desire.
“If on the other hand, you select otherwise, your untold experience would be well worth the remembering even if it remained unspoken between us. Understanding that however, there remains a miniscule item to address, specifically, where shall we go?
“Sissy, why do you delight in tormenting me and why on earth are you continually beating about the bush when it comes to these matters?
“Of course, my apologies, you would prefer instead the one that still burns bright upon the mountain; after all, you are the one who claims to have spoken with Him at length. Moreover, you assert He definitely has a sense of humour; I can see why. Still, predicated upon reality; for you, that remains to be seen.”
“What do mean by that sarcasm? I thought we were just to return home. Now there’s more?”
“At last a question asked and answered in kind which is straight to the point. He didn’t actually inform you of all that much more did He now? Well, I and the others wait. By your silence, it is evident that some…minor…items remain unspoken. By your leave, I will assist.
“By your admission, He said, “Go home.” I ask in all sincerity, “which is the home He specifies, that we return to?” Speak with clarity and I shall act in response that we return to the one that He deems is best suited for us both. Yes, yes, I know, you do not understand, therefore seer, from your memory recall the words of a predecessor, those of Tiresias; speak them aloud, and please remember that here and now, you do speak before the highest of councils; pompous as they may be. I hear that in waiting that they are now all ears. Seer, a warning, speak only those words, which you deem applicable to the moment and listen carefully to only those thoughts which will be of assistance; for there is no love lost among those who arrogantly sit and enviously watch us from afar.
“Ohh my, I can’t be the middle of this, not now. You can’t be serious. Sissy, is this a test because the only words I remember are those of a spectre who stood before us but a short time ago claiming they were the blinds prophets own.”
“Exactly.”
“Exactly? Why exactly?”
“Because I asked you to; besides in your case, when lit, the bush burns brighter; that is when understanding is achieved.”
“That’s not funny! Sissy, why are you making sarcastic jokes here and now about something like that? What will all of them think?”
“Remarkable, you have become suddenly conscientiously indignant. As for what they think, what do I care? Advocate, why are you now so serious? I promise the answer will come to you shortly. Please, indulge the soul whose heart is breaking; has never learned to dance; nor taken time to live, nor love; one afraid of dying; and has been, to this moment, continually longing.”
“Are you speaking of me or yourself?”
“Self awareness at last and yes to both.”
“But, but, why now? Advocate? For whom? I don’t understand…and why shouldn’t you care? I mean…I…need to …what I meant to have said was that…I hear the words of Tiresias you asked of me…but do I just think them or speak them aloud? Besides Here…and now…there are many…other thoughts which… compete for my…my…hmmm…no…even Here there is envy. I am afraid for but few who sit above in some gallery are pure. Really, I don’t know …if not they…then whome can I trust.”
“Aeryn, you decide.”
“No, for some reason I think otherwise. For some reason I always thought what I was doing was right...but now…Here…I don’t know.”
“Your memory is short lived, follow my past example; where you are concerned for the moment, it is safer course of action.”
“Sissy, for some unexplained reason, the thought just entered my mine that you would be…that she and you could be…ohh my…I fear that I really have done something terrible to you. I apologize.”
“For what?”
“You are not going to make this easy on me are you?”
“Seer, for what will occur, it is not I to whom you would speak, but to answer your question, no, it will not be easy for you. However, if it is of any consequence I do know what is in the box you gave away and of your impromptu if not truly mischievous intent in doing so. Moreover, I understand the folklores alluded to implication. Nevertheless, I am honored at the thought and its original intent; that will suffice. Understanding that, I will accept it without malice upon return and without reservation. There now, does that ease your mind?”
“I could say yes but for some reason I still feel guilty.”
“Sister, why do think He was laughing? He told you He has sense of humour; Intelligent design does at times grow wearisome but it travels hand in hand with misconstrued levity. That being said, I believe something can be arranged. Now if you would be so kind, recite Tiresias’ words and after every salient thought, offer your most profound explanation. Without delay if you please and “now” would be a good time to begin.”
“Sissy, why do your eyes begin to glimmer or appear to fume so with rage? No matter, but before I begin where shall I turn to look?”
“Turn first to the horizon where the brightest of light emanates then to those whome haughtily sit scornfull and embittered; intuitively, your eyes will move to it.”
“Ahem. Yes, of course, I should have known, now first to the light then on to…to all, Tiresias’ words as I remember are as follows. “Upon the river Ocean,” I am told, is a phrase which does not refer to those common waters found elsewhere; instead, it referes to the universe as a whole, or the entirety of the cosmos or perhaps the sum total by His hand of Creation itself. In any event, for the moment, that is what I perceive; He tells me only that and nothing more.
“Sissy, the overpowering thought occurs that from this moment I am to stand unaided and will speak; withdraw, stand aside and allow me the moment I now envision.
“A moment please for...ohhhh my goodness, we are parted. I had no idea that it was this wonderful: liberty; though, among certain others Here, it is othewise for I sense immediate thoughts which are not mutual. Instead, I sense coldness if not bitter resentment itself. Perhaps it is best that I continue with the issue at hand and for the moment avoid such.
"As Tiresias continued with, with “…there are always three ships,” which, which, I would presume in some manner as being the Past, the Present and the Future. Somehow, I would qualify this assumption because “Sometimes many more” which follows, qualifies its predecessor. Therefore, I believe the insinuation to be far more expansive and essentially life threatening. Sissy, I apologize, but for some reason, on this matter I must reserve the right at a future moment to return and reconsider my previous thought.
“But now, I would continue with “And those who sail upon them” could mean that those who exist or did exist within their confines are, until forgotten, always a part of every one of them. “Most never to set foot on lands unknown,” in essence states the obvious; that those beings are confined to their nation state or perhaps the world on which they exist or is it their reality of which we now speak? However, for some untold reason, they never venture anywhere else. But here too, I would reserve the right to return and reconsider for the explanation tendered is far too simplistic and perhaps I am being far too literal in my interpretation.
“That said however, “neither vessel is without crew, nor food, nor drink; or without sky, or night or the stars above,”most definitely referes to the world upon which those entities exist. Given that I would revisit a prior conclusion and muse aloud that “…sometimes many more” is perhaps an insinuation to other worlds, which Tiresias likened to ships, which also exist in the universe and which too are inhabited simultaneously. Still the feeling grows stronger that something has eluded me much as you had eluded Seianus.
Nevertheless, the blind prophet continued with “Yet neither vessel shall accept any other additional provisions or crew” which I take to mean as not a voluntary action, nor requiring any specific knowledge; in fact by accepting additional persons or provisions, something untowards would occur; therefore, perhaps the underlying implication is not benign and is in fact more sinister?
He all but concludes with “Side by side, they sail for time eternal until such time that all but three shall cease to exist. That time approaches yet again.” Dare I put forward the obvious that at some point, annihilation or disappearance shall occur and all those worlds, their inhabitants and whatever else it is that they are comprised of shall simply cease; all except the original three. However, here I must return to a prior moment and without immediate comment, consider the many thoughts of Maximillian; afterwards I believe I can explain.
“Now, with all of that being said there is most definitely something lacking; something weightier, something which Tiresias claims stands before the Highest of Magistrates and is so favored and empowered by Him. Sissy, Tiresias intimates that you, the traveler, are the issue at hand, not I. Here I am but His accepted medium.
From memory now, “Odysseus’ final warning to your mother “To choose one above the other is certain death” did not refer to her choice between either Achilles or himself. It was instead Tiresias’ admonition to her to refuse selecting a personal preference; especially where you were concerned. My dear little brother, the truth of the matter is now evident, why else would you have engaged Maximillian except for an explanation of your inherent abilities.
“Maximillian provided you the opportunity, that of the immediate knowledge you desired and what knowledge at times he lacked he could and would find for you; such was your relationship. Understandably, you could not have approached Him and asked for His enlightenment: for to do so, would have prejudiced not only the Game but also Him to your cause as well. Instead, over centuries, through trial and error, you persisted and proved yourself and I now know how; unfortunately, as you progressed others, seated Here above, grew increasingly resentful of you and now…and now…now I sense their various thoughts…those that would betray them…as some did you twice and as they would have eventually Him. I do not presume to understand it all; nor of what will follow, except that on this side of the expanse more than one shall fall to those who wait below and claim their just desserts. I would paraphrase from another those words which would strike fear into those who wait and listen, “Sing, O goddess, of the wrath of a child, that which brought countless ills upon those souls it send hurrying down to Hades.”* I hear in the wind that at last, there is symmetry and fear it shall commence upon but a word: now. I...
_____________
Homers first line of the Iliad…paraphrased.
-
"I...forsee the horror of their fall, as inevitably now do they. Sissy, those three who impulsively rise to flee your wrath are discovered; and thus openly betray themselves. Yet in the immediate moment, I perceive, there is infinitly more to be lost. Impetuously, your thoughts cry out “As they acted…let them be cast as one from Heaven’s Domain.” I ask, shall you now rest and brood alone as Achilles while silently gloating assuming their mantel? On the other hand, shall you stand out-of-the-way surveying their fall from Grace; or, shall you overtly partake in this event, thus becoming yourself legend; yet, it could be otherwise, remembered merely as their final arbiter? With many possibilities, I am told the final fee for their turpitude is now yours to consider.
“In the end, when the deed is done, will you be content knowing that they dwell without respite for eternity: perceiving that they are the fetid prisoners of their own contrivances? Alternatively, perhaps you would be otherwise so indifferent that you would emulate each and stand impassive as they recoil from those farfetched horrors of which in their own awareness only they could imagine. Conversely, shall they serve in some manner as a constant reminder? In this moment Sissy, I perceive that an opportunity presents itself, therefore, I ask of you and as His mediator, on their behalf for an indulgence.
“Specifically, I solicit in behalf of three who understandably fear your intrinsic vengeance and voice aloud “Is there an alternative in victory that would suffice; one, which would equate to your loss or shall we all come to ruin? The latter of which I speak is the darker side of the tale, which until now few has had knowledge, and I will shortly explain, for it has become all to clear the cost to you and to so many others; now themselves the countless innocents lost.
“Ageless child, though you are justified to do otherwise, here and now, for them I ask for… leniency … and in so doing consider in the moment the worth of your victory. Moreover, in passing, I would caution the three stoics of time who would take flight…not so fast…remain…for your hour is indeed late. The Creator of All knows what I know and now too ponders the alternatives if not the consequences.
“Sissy, so that all may know, He kindly bids me tell you; “Through countless lives you have had many names and in each found incalculable sorrow. Always you have asked yourself…“Why me?”yet never once “Why?” of Me. Illustrated child of time whom the stoics fear: you, are a solitary soul born in search of the truth, unwilling to yield or accept the inevitability of what little they would falsely offer in My Name. For that, that Will they forfeit is now yours…I ask of my…Time Warrior…decide their fate…but first…listen.”
“Sis…I mean…“my honorable…little princely lord of time”…there are many things to disclose and I call for all…attend, for truly at the heart of the matter it remains…a celestial conspiracy.
“Now then, where shall we begin but at the beginning before you first chose to contest. Cursed as a child, your true nature was known known only to Him and then over time revealed only to the stoics themselves. For this and other reasons, the three perceived you a manifest threat to each.
“Warrior, you well know, as a rule, prior to a new life coming to reality, a list of names is inked and from the Guff, souls are randomly assignated to each and with but one exception, you, those were only after the souls had been cleansed. The process would thus avoid the inevitable “trail of tears” upon which you have long walked.
“The stoics understood, as you, the nature of the game played and of Whose predictable hand against Whom you would contest. It is upon that inevitability which they wagered all: that in time not only would you tire of your repetitive ordeals but also that you would certainly loose to Him and in turn loose yourself; but as oft is the case with rampant envy not even that all but certain eventuality sated them.
“That is the reason until now, unknown to all others, Here, for any life assigned you, that meager prospect of earthly existence, cast to your soul, was as a bare bone first picked clean then thrown to a dog; for your supposedly random and countless names, except for one, were selected first by them. You alone selected the last. Furthermore, unknown to anyone else, except for Him, those souls assigned to whichever name you chose prior were purposely shortlived and then surreptitiously undermined further in life by the stoics themselves: in direct contravention of His Will. From there, the tangled web did grow.
“For to that extent they constantly plotted your demise leaving nothing to chance. It was surmised inevitable, that in each life chosen, that you would fall only to rise again and in many instances…the fall selected was set in the most horrible manner: in the mistaken belief that upon return Here, a change of heart would occur; you would give way and submit. In so doing, you would loose yourself and most certainly your varied and unique abilities.
“Instead, they came to realize that whatever their expectations of gratitude and fealty which you might acknowledge to them in His name were short-lived; for instead of the acceptance and surrender you repaid each in kind with repeated disdain and ever-increasing obstinance. Now the question of “Why?” can be answered, because Here, you were their pariah: the solitary interloper of their once personal domain with whom they were naturally discordant and perpetually at odds.
“Moreover, the overwhelming immediate thought now occurs to others…“Knowing this…“Why…did He not act? Why…did He not intervene?” What makes all of you who now dare draw near think He did not…prior? Is it not written, “Heaven helps those who helps themselves?” Of course, the answer is “Yes.”
“As proof, deep within the vaults of the Heavenly Archives lays a recently delivered parchment of consideration; the intent of which is twofold as it is foremost a contract between two specific entities: the Creator of All Himself and “No Man” in particular. Moreover, the parchment also bears above a single braid of gold a solitary watermark, a tear, which of His own hand the words “Spondeo, Officium guod Eventus” indelibly seals it. In that respect, it serves a final article of resolution, which, according to Him, for you, is satisfied: as it now contains your mothers’ consent; specifically her first signature of reconciliation, unreservedly acknowledging you as her own as well as her second signature; a publically bargained doc-ument-reiterating acceptance.
“Secondly, it is also His evaluation of time, a sounding, through you, pertaining not only the depth of their deception as it applied to you both; but also that of your unswerving devotion…of maintaining in this matter not only an indissoluble pact…but also that regardless of circ-umstances …your Promise to Him of absolute silence.”
“But now, the questions set forth before all are what shall be done with them and then for you? Seemingly, moments ago you decried the eventuality of your return home and with good cause. I understand, as does He, that which is the darker side of the equation; for while you are able to move unhindered through time itself you have here-to-fore lacked a certain quality. Most certainly Maximillian could have have assisted you and several times had intimated that inherent feature; but then again, in some instances, he too understood that some things until resolved are better left unsaid. In your mind, you have forever lacked what can best be described as a homing beacon. Traveler, you were simply unable to discern the harmonic frequency of certain heartfelt objects, those which resonate regardless of state such as voice, which speaks or sings…to one or more? Perhaps one which is especially now dear to you. Do you understand?
“Very well, for the moment, stand mute if you must. Nevertheless, understand that here and now, I too realize the sum of my experience. That since I first met you, instead of those few hours of which I am actually aware, in reality, instead years have passed; and whoever I once was, has forever changed. Moreover, somewhere, lost in time and space, my mother waits alone in silence for my return as now does yours. It alone is the world you seek. That is Tiresias’ conundrum; that you have been forever lost in the oceans of space and time, which are themselves not only overlapping realities, but also those of overlapping and concurrent universes. Each world you enter or leave is merely to you a transport; it takes you to a home, which is never quite right. You perceive it does not feel the same.
“Therefore, your pronounced fear of return is well founded for as you have moved from place to place you have discovered that you are unable to return to that exact vessel which is your own world. Unfortunately, for those whom you leave behind upon one or another, you spoke the truth; they are never the wiser. They remain, in place, never to move or draw breath again; unsuspectingly with a thought you have become the innocent destroyer of worlds, sadly, such is your inherent nature.
“The past, the present and the future are now yours to do with as you please; we await your decision.”
-
Well? Dare I ask, are you going to decide; or shall we stand Here for ages?”
“Sister, why not remain? If we stay what is the harm? Short of eleven weeks ago, you vowed you would do no harm; now you would return and because of a decision, made in relative haste, would do otherwise. I thought I knew you better, much better than you think you understand those who present but a fascade of compliance of your command to remain.
“How odd you should gleen that they would…“raise” to flee while others, including myself at times, had long considered time as a singular entity…monotonously linear…always moving from… left to right as it were and if only for appearance sake always moving inexorably from past to present. Now however, an obscure thought, once cast aside as impossible is applicable to the saying of “Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable must be the truth.”* And the truth is that that commonly held age-old belief is far from the truth because the stoics too, as I, move in other directions as well and that they are not truly, what they appear to be. Sister, the creature known as time surreptitiously moves at will in multiple dimensions to wherever and whenever it pleases: such, as you would say, is its nature.
“Seer, in your minds eye, look, at least once to the Gallery of the Gods themselves. Behold, yes there…see it at the forefront of them all? There they dourly sit as Cerberus, three pretenders, joined at the hip as one, sharing a common throne, who ostensibly remain and without interest: comply with your request. However, unseen are those other facets within time that comprise its essence which have fled. The creature you view is but a diminished shell and for the moment will cause us no further harm; for without time, on any level, there is no existence and to that end, they sit knowing that if only for that one concern they were and for the moment are sheltered. You should take satisfaction, your desire through no overt action of mine, has become command.
“Sissy? What do mean by all of that? What have I done? Besides how would you know that time is stilled?”
“Sister has it not occurred to you that Here Seianus was not the sole recipient of my veiled scrutiny; that for Him I would, as you so fittingly decribed me, as a ferret, studiously examine all other possibilities. The ever-astute seer must appreciate that if time is deprived even in part of its sum total, it cannot move; consequently, nothing ever will come to harm again, anywhere. I required your profound insight not only to its plausible impulsive movement but also to articulate a spoken command as His envoy, which has been disobeyed. One would consider it two birds with one stone!
“It was essential not only to expose its intrinsic character but also for it to willingly divest itself of that persona which for too long had escaped notice: specifically the creature’s ability to move through time on multiple levels, while remaining firmly rooted in the present. The essence of its existence is gone and only with the appropriate consent may it congeal again. You, seer, have been quite useful. Hail Victory!
“But take heart for in the interrum, I too have considered your advice; however I fear continued turpitude from various sources. Sister, the futility of ever attempting to return home without a simple and guaranteed concession of a clear and unfettered signal that would guide us, is significant. Any attempt to return would be pointless; because the beacons, by which we, they and I, navigate through time and space with, oscillate in a multitude of frequencies simultaneously. Moreover, some have common characteristics nearly indescernable from the other and if altered, even slightly, I am certain we would inevitably fail. You see, I knew prior to our arrival what Maximillian would have intimated and until an accord is reached, I trust no one.
“In the mean time, pending its return and prior to any decision, was I to savor the moment and linger, would I in turn diminish myself all the while knowing that I take some small pleasure in its new found misfortune? How unexpected the pleasure!
“However, the very point is moot for I acknowledge that base thought and consider what would become of me if I outright savored the moment further. Be that as it may, before all, my immediate and contemptuous self-rebuke is forthright. Otherwise, as they, I would be forever stained for no amount of time would wash clean the taint of blood from my hands. Better to remain the perpetually cursed child of time than become the handmaiden of certain death. But then again, the thought occurs, that is what you, in some manner, with a gift would make of me: a bridesmaid; perhaps, for you, there was an unavoidable symmetry to be found.
“And in the midst of it all, how droll the thought that in every manner the given name upon the discharged pact so aptly crafted; described myself as “no man” in particular who himself appositely remains the unblemished eternal youth. Fated before birth to an end from which I cannot escape. I exist as one who is neither truly mortal nor immortal, but always…always…hauntingly me: a demigod. Somehow, the thought occurs that in the end, I will take no pleasure from any of this. Instead, I ponder to suffer a thousand deaths more than to succ-umb to their wiles and too become in every aspect times mere facsimile.
“You have naught to say: then mores the pity. I would have expected something other than silence. Allow me.
“Sister, consider, is it not ironic that I, for the moment, am the exception to the adage that youth is wasted upon the young?” Perhaps in the end it is so; yet it is presumptuously a childish thought is it not. Shall I as a child now presume?
“To you, the proper reply would be…“No.” But through you I do hear many voices and those thoughts remain singularly disposed…each in some manner or fashion chides me: “Decide.” Sister, truthfully, another as me would never hesitate to return regardless of circ-umstances and the hell with the consequences of so doing. However, there is no other as I…Heaven itself could now fall for all I care: but I ask, “Where I would be then and through it all what would I have gained?
“To me the proper answer would be “Nothing.”
“But Here and now I would ask aloud to all… hear me…if only for a moment. “Would it be so terrible if no decision was made,” then what?”
“Their proper reply would be…wait for it…listen, ahh yes…here it is…all together now “Nothing!”
“Nothing? Nothing at all? My, my, my who would have thought of that!”
“But that’s the minority…and they’re a vocal lot! And those goodly souls, the majority, who otherwise stand silently and listen to our every word; what do they have add? Nothing but a proper whisper of…“Nooo.” Self-rightous lot! Therefore, what am I to conclude except that now, I find that even in Heaven there is discord? Imagine that!
“Of course, incongruously, were we to remain Here, we may together never age but then so vexed, would those same angelic voices themselves turn and set upon me those fiery eyes again without thought and seek through them to burn my soul? In either eventuality, whomever I listen to, I am lost. Then who am I to trust? The proper answer is “No one.”
“But here I am morosely thinking of myself while you sister, stand idle and cause no harm. That was your wish was it not. I ask what now of yourself or of your heartfelt desires. Most certainly, you pensively wait understanding much; but so little more and remarkably, you have held not only your tongue but your wits about you as well. I laud you. You have indeed grown to the part yet you look at me pensively askance…yet I perceive not for solice or rectitude. Pray tell, what possible desire of me now formulates within? Shall we together consider our options or shall I abruptly resolve the entire dilemma and with a stroke make an end of it all?
“Little one, I should be angry at you for using me but I am not. I understand and many are the thoughts which Here shout to you, “Hail Victory!” While at the same moment, others decry a sudden action with but one word “Wait.” Have you not noticed, as I, that either voice is a thought in torment?”
“Torment? What would the lot of them know of torment! They all have what they want and they have had it for some time! Unquestionably, they are here. On the other hand, I am a vagabond: neither truly here nor do I belong anywhere else. Until moments ago, all I have had is misery and all I have done through time is wander. I roam through time and beg always assuming…assuming much and receiving little in return. One way or another that will end!
“As for myself, here and now, I will assume nothing: especially their (the stoics) shared mantel of responsibility, as I neither sought nor coveted what was theirs; nor am I willing to remain in their sted. It is all to the contrary, I want nothing from them; they are bereft and without sense. Let them sit there for ages and plead to me! Nor were I to relent will I diminish myself by accepting in return an iota from them.
“Moreover, was I to cast them immediately to the gates of Hell itself, and with a thought I find I could, it would speak to what manner of soul, through their actions, I would have become; but truly it is not out of pity for them that I stay my hand. It is quite otherwise.
“Sister, to me they are nothing but killers! Look at them. They sit: expressionless, all the while knowing it is they who will ultimately slay whatever is born. Time, not I, is the merciless killer, the destroyer, which follows us all: young and old alike; it promises much in youth concedes less with age and finally with a breath smugly takes all in the end. That is the only truth of which I am now aware.
“Nor, as you suggest, will I run and sulk as Achilles alone to brood bemoaning Providence for I do not share in their Schadenfreude; after our business is concluded that considerable amount among them is theirs alone for eternity to apportion. I would take pleasure in watching them from afar: decay where they sit. So there!”
“Yes, little one, so there it is. You have remained for ages a lost child without a home: one who has remained honorable to a fault seeking the truth of his existence and have now found it. Would you betray Heaven for yourself now? Remember little one, those who initially wagered upon your resolve: and lost? You were a better little man then than the man you are becoming now.
“However, if you now decide otherwise, I will understand. As for what I would have made of you with a gift…it is merely baseless folklore. Truly, I, we, Mother and I, meant no harm and most certainly, both Mother and I considered it an act of kindness; one of love, that you deserved. My sweet, the girl at first sight for eternity has loved only you.
“So you say now but for my part I’m not so certain of that! It was another long ago of whom was dreampt.”
“The Medium of Heaven thinks otherwise: but for the moment consider your decision; other approaches and would speak. What do you think she will say as she beholds her progeny?
__________
*Arthur Conan Doyle
-
“She would confirm the Seer’s thoughts and tell the child that long before your births that this moment of fulfillment was, by Him, anticipated. It is that painful journey towards Destiney as wanderers, which has brought you Here. That, which you may call cruel or capricious Fate, am I, your guardian Angel who has watched over, or so ever slightly nudged, you, along the path to this moment: though, admittedly at times, the journey for all has been painful. Yet, it is only through hardship one developes not only the inner strength necessary for success but also enhances one’s capabilities and true potential. To that end, I have as a mother, always been near and will continue to be so.
“Yet for the moment, this Angel herself would ponder, by what name should she at last address the perfection of her own mindseye who stands before her? Whereupon, shall she first then ask, forgiveness; and if so tendered, ask, what of Astyanax; of all who participated to this moment, for some reason, only he remains elusive. On the other hand, shall she instead with loving eyes turn them upon the child she first held as her own and ask of him the same: forgive me all? Both thoughts of each are dear yet neither would convey the sum of her heartfelt sorrows to either.
“Moreover, she would explain to the Seer it is to that end as conciliator that I am here; for at this moment, it is only to speak. Eventually, upon your return, much is still to unfold and will. “Child, I ask, hold your pensive thoughts and consider, as you have labored, so too have others, for but a short time ago, yours, were the tears which have finally been judged in sum.
“I sense your puzzlement and looming query of “To what tears do you refer; for to this moment what tears have I offered?” I would reply to the child of certain times past… “Many are the few: beginnings with a solitary tear; falling from a child who, as an apparition, repeatedly walked a long past, though well trod path, as a stranger upon a distant shore. Child, it is that first tear his Herald Aquila brought Him by which all others are judged and His is the hand that forever sealed the solitary and still glistening droplet.
“Others would claim the second was from a child of the narrows, who dared first barter and part with so precious a treasure; where, at that moment for him, all could have ended, but it did not for it was judged as pure as the first and well worth the deferred price paid for its tender. However, those few would not know the extent of Bions involvement with another, nor of his manifest capabilities nor of his considerable quandaries: especially as to the formulation of a well to a device, which would not run dry. In some circuitous manner, through another, it came to his astute attention that your tears be utilized; consequently, he engendered the henna for three priceless pens, which to this moment still write.
“Your immediate thought of “Who else could have known the worth of a particular tear?” is accurate: of course, your first thought is of the one who first understood its magnitude and was there from the beginning, besides Him. True, I could have offered Bion that knowledge and of how to obtain them; but I did not. I would whisper the secret to all it was another. And for an enterprising and diverse a soul such as Bion was, in Heaven or on earth, the tears from those who ostensibly sleep do not go to waste particularly yours.
“Child, you found in yourself a voice that would die for you long before you lost your tongue. He too found Bion and supplied the required stores.
“Remember, in your many tormented dreams of reliving each life; even those you cried as Elias? Many were taken along with those that flowed at the moment of Joachems surrender when at last he poured out his life to His Winged messenger. And each libation was found as pure as the preceding and each regardless of place or time withstood His gaze.
“Now at last, I must come to you; the architect of it all. That is which is required is it not, my precense before the Arbiter? Yours and no others is the given authority on this matter to decide. Yours are the machinations that have brought us to this moment. Child there is nowhere else to run or worlds to visit and nowhere else to hide. In so doing, you would only run from yourself.
Now hush and remember, when you so lovingly, reached for me and there as I cradled you, you in affirmation, so willingly embraced me in release? Yes, of course you do. Still, I would whisper to you…harken back and remember… for now I speak specifically of those voiced fears…especially of those tears shed upon my garment? Child, that eve, to you, I spoke only the truth, they did not stain: neither my garment nor your soul, nor would they; for you and the first you harbored gave them all without hesitation.
“Child at that moment of abandon you too turned to me a face long secreted from my eyes: that of the son of Hector. And who is say which of the tears was first shed: yours or his. In any event, as I ostensibly held you, indisputably both found their way to rest upon me.
“But Here, an admission before all: itself a shocking revelation. Afterward, in astonishment, I sat bewilderment finally understanding the incomprehensibility of unafathomable love and was humbled; and for a moment, understood, I had opened my heart and turned to you a face never seen before and was accepted. And of those first rare thoughts that coursed through my soul…were only…that I held you close and in amazement realized that you were truthfully mine.
“It was then with urgency, I fled your side, returned Here; petitioned an audiance and supplicated of Him as I presented my garment: “Mighty One, judge these tears not only to the extent of their remembrances…or of myself…but also as to the extent of their potentialities. Grant in your wisdom an end to our despair.” Silently He sat and considered my request and then with a nod He bid me approach and thought, “Present your offerings.”
Child, He leaned forward upon His mighty Throne and took what I offered and thought to me two words, which, He knew to me, were frightful: “And yours?” Downcast and dishearted, at once, I sadly realized the scope of my error for to that moment in all my existence I had shed not one, let alone a solitary Pardoning Tear of my own. I would have fled but found myself unable to move before Him and thought myself lost.
The silence between us and of those who observed a soul in the throes of agonizing reality was conspicuous and unbroken until the sound of His thoughts “But one tear will I take and make whole an Angel” echoed thoughout His realm. It was then I felt upon my face His hands and in astonishment watched the tip of fingers lift from each of my eyes a solitary tear.
“Child, in Heaven it said, “To an Angel, time is but a place.” I say not so. For if a special moment is one of fond rememberance, we carry it with us and relive it forever: as do I. From the beginning, little did I understand that in your tears and His smile that you would find the answer to that of my completion and to that end, at last, I am sated.
“Turn, face me now. I emplore you, look to my face as I speak that I offer with sight a gift for a gift. You must understand, that only moments ago, as recompense upon His smile, I did yield a portion of myself to you; and that which you mortally fear, for you, no longer, smolder. Child, when you return home, you will find that on occasion, yours are the eyes that will in part…try mens souls.
“But now I find you Here, and as Achilles, you sulk: though admittedly, Here Heavens pavilion is by far the greater. Oddly, I now find myself as Prium, dispatched to plead for an act of kindness and mercy not only for the entity you have revealed as manifestly duplicitous but also for those innocents who too are enmeshed.
Child, I must tell you, He tells me, it is within your purview to decline and to consider this “If he so decides all will begin anew.”
-
“Now, as you have pondered for some time; I must urge an immediate pronouncement.”
“How rich, for this seminal occasion, the Clarion Silence reverberates; I ask, for this auspicious moment, what proclamation is suited incredulously after you inform me that in a moment of anguish you nebulously yielded…to me…“A gift for a gift?” How thoughtful for, until recently, you had repeatedly cursed me: but now, before all and in His name, you thoughfully embellish what ever “it” is with a caring threat. Truthfully, I am overwhelmed with such magnanimity.
“I must pause to consider, would I kindly decline your entreat and in that moment certainly suffer further untold horrors; or, shall I accept and quietly suffer anew the unknown. That is essentially your supposed…grand proposition: is it not? It seems that what choices we truly make, even as Heaven listens, are rare and few: if any.
“Of course, you would assert otherwise: extolling that the choice is truly mine. Still, I remember once, not long ago, you through another claimed that we are the masters of our own fate: a lie? For, here and now, it is clear it is otherwise, by your own admission, we are merely herded as cattle to an end of which in waking, through birth itself, we have no memory. Now you would have me believe even before birth we have chosen our destiney and that fate, through one, a being as you, is that which drives us towards it? How droll the moment.
“Hagel-Sieg: Fährend des Momentes sind sie zu mir als Sie, bittere Wörter; als Kupfer auf meiner Zunge. (Hail Victory: For the moment, they are to me as you, bitter words; as copper on my tongue). Very well, I cannot do otherwise. Take that what you wish: nothing more than my conditional and grudging approval. That said what do you convey that I am offered in return; specifically, what assurances have I? What indispensable trinket do you bring me?”
“Here, I offer the assurance of an unforseen alternative; an ampulla.”
“A solitary opaque bauble? Despite my appearance, pray tell, am I to be swayed by the ornament itself or its contents?”
“Child, that which I hold in the palm of my hand is yours. Take it. When it is opened I proffer…an end: nothing more, nothing less and nothing as certain. I understand your reticence, therefore as mediator, prior to my appearance, I took it upon myself and visited inturn the Rivers Acheron, Cocytus, Eridanos, Lethe, Phlegethon and Styx and took from each but a portion of their everlasting droplets: which upon acceptance, via the ampulla’s unsealing, will run as quicksilver through your veins. Consider its mystic contents a symbiotic relationship, one that, upon your return, would ensure from others both your anonymity and forever guarantee the status quo.
“Explain. What you offer me then is certain release?”
“No. In part, your acts have sealed your fate; for in your own words you…you recognize that “…there is no fate which cannot be surmounted by scorn.”* What you seek, your release, is to be found only upon your catharsis, after which you will find each bead is bound to you; employ each where or when, as you desire; it will perform as tasked…then immediately replenished in kind.
“Seer, later, when the occasion presents, instruct the child, that if comingled under certain conditions, they present a most pleasant, if not familiar aroma.
“Now my little one, we must come to the parting of our ways; yet, one would consider it additionally poetic, if, before leaving, one was so disposed to facilitate with the immediate administration of justice. You need not reply for I believe you will in short understand that one good turn deserves another and that God helps those who help themselves? If so, then look to the stoics of time, counting each as they approach and yeild yourself to the thoughts of His Seer who would otherwise call herself Sachem of the Northern Tribes.
“Now unless you find yourselves at a loss to consider the unfortunate consequences of remaining: as do now the stoics, return unfettered to an immediate time and place to a verse of unidentified choice; knowing as does His Seer that we will meet again. My love, you have but moments remaining, turn with me, as I do now, watch as they quickly approach their common seat then… leave me. Wait…Wait…Now!...>…>>>…>>…>>>…It is done…. as am I. To be or….ohhh my.”
______________________________________________________________
“Sister? Sister?”
“Yes, I am still with you; as before…I took refuge here somewhere inside.”
“Yes, but you are strangely silent: reserved…as am I. Why so? You do perceive that we travel again but it is different… that this time…there are no portals and what looms is but one distant light…ergo the journey is fixed with but one destination.”
“Yes, as part of the bargain that much is evident nor…do I perceive us falling as before. Perhaps, as it is with life, it is only an illusion.”
“You jest?”
“No, for I fear a dream.”
“Bargain? Dream? What dream? What dream like illusion do you have to fear?”
“You do not know or remember?”
“No…why should I?”
“No? I see then, nor will you likely remember upon our return this conversation. The mist from the ampulla will work its full magic upon you shortly. Nor will you will have knowledge of what Athena will face for aiding you. What we did together was not a component of her destiney, or yours. Until our appearance things were quite otherwise, it was on our arrival He bid me “Prior To her Appearance of What Is To Unfold Remain Silent.”
“Before it occurred…He understood Athena would take it upon herself to assist.”
“What exatly is…It? Assist? Explain…………This is not like you…………what happened…what was done to me?”
“Quiet. Together we have but a few moments remaining and then…and then the angel you once knew, as Athena, will be no more. The instant we wake He showed me more than once what would happen if I were to fail you both.”
“And…and that would be…what exactly?”
“In failure, the certainty of your own self awareness: existening in simultaneous alterntive realities without respite. The purpituity found in each of your worst nightmares relived, a tortuous existence, unending. He understood that if left to their own device the Stoics would have it no other way. “Alternatively,” He said, “If Foundation were beat somehow it would be otherwise."
“To that end, our combined actions have sealed both your destinies. You had no way of knowing that until you broke the ampulla. What she yieled to you was in part her longing and the fury that drove her: that, as you, she would for the first time become mortal. With her sacrifice, if only briefly, she tastes life and you will live it to the fullest. Now it is as it should be; you are silent. Realizing, that from this moment on, you will most certainly grow old and watch your youth fade and finally wither. The eternal youth will soon be no more; of that, we both made certain before we left Heaven’s Gates.”
“Both. You mean you and I?”
“I mean the both of Us as for the moment that is not your concern.”
“Be that as it may, now you have no memory of that final moment because of the ampulla or of your heroics of which I will fleetingly recount. I would tell you that upon Athena’s count and with ampulla in hand it was at my advice that “…the solitary warrior will charge headlong into battle, break the ampulla while in stride and dare strike each of his enemies in turn.” It was at Athena’s urging that all of Heaven watched your immediate plunge into battle; “After all,” she said, “…if the entire world is a stage, is Heaven less?”
“Keep in mind that all heard the first rapid thoughts in your mind, of “I understand, the path first chosen must be…” followed by your shout of “NOW” as you fell headfirst upon a number of the beast. A split-second later there was no doubt of whom you had singled out when you shouted, “With my touch I am first for you; the second: the here and now. I feel at what lives only for the moment.”
“Your timing was flawless; it had yet to recompose. Startled and before it understood what was to occur, your first touch had fallen upon the varying features of the center and before those seated to either side could again shift, you just as swiftly reached out and stroked twice again, once to its record and finally then to its potential. So seated each looked to the other noticing the touch of their adversary had left an indelible blotch upon the ever changing features of each.
“It was then you seemingly stung twice each three times again and spoke “Sisyphus entrapped you twice and was so unmercifully condemned when he released you. Now, consider with but a touch what I have done: the walking stick of time counts coup. Of the eleven dimensions of time counted I leave the lesser unscathed that they may forever remember and tell those who sit wondering that the sting of my memory is their perpetual loss.**”
You do not remember but those were your last words and when we wake, you will find yourself remembering only that which is necessary for the immediate moment: all else is as a clean slate. You shall remain unidentified; untraceable and …and … when your doorbell rings…
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*Albert Camus…The Myth of Sisyphus
**Count Coup – An exploit of valor performed upon an enemy by an unarmed warrior whose sole purpose was merely to tap his enemy with a reed or specially made coup stick rather than harm him. Honors, generally in the form of eagle or ravens feathers were given for the audacity necessary for close combat and arranged in a warrior’s bonnet to signify the scope and measure of his exploits. “The surprise nudge from a coup stick would sting in one person's memory and sing in another's for a long time. Dishonor followed a coup counted on oneself.” Wikipedia
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…you…you must, at all cost, ignore its tone.
“I hear your thoughts of “Why?” Why indeed do you ask yourself? I will reply “First, because it is my only request of you. Second, because of all the many things which I may ask of you, only one will you immediately recall and forthwith act upon; and lastly, because in so doing, for all you have given me, untold experience beyond experience, now, I too find I am honor bound; besides, I have sworn that I will repay that generosity in kind and would protect you too. It is my first act of duty.”
“You, protect me? Your first act, how so and why shouldn’t I answer the door?”
“Yes, to your first and second queries, I shall shelter you and again because…because I have asked it of you; would you deny me fulfillment of my first obligation? I think not. Secondly, because where you are concerned, the tone itself involves another: it is a key to your immediate impasse and in itself a clarion call; and lastly, that though three months’ time has passed, you will still be as naked as when we left.
“Hush and listen to…my thoughts…for we quickly approach. As for the why, where you are concerned, do you remember our ancestral account of the dream catcher?”
“Yes, it wouldn’t work… it failed miserably….no dream catcher made was ever strong enough to help me.”
“Yes and to this moment none mortally made contained the intricacies that would suffice; now do you understand?”
“Are you serious?”
“Absolutely, if I were not, why would we discuss it now; besides, allow me, it is only what I ask of you. Listen and remember: I ask, as we step forth from this, our symbiosis that you immediately turn; in so doing, it is I whom you will face and instinctively within yourself, discern an irresistible personal imperative; the need of my touch; otherwise what…what we have shared will be…for naught. A moment…
“Look…there ahead…see it? No, just to the right, beyond the horizon, our final destination looms: the designated portal pulses with our approach; it signals that it waits for us. But oddly I…I find myself distracted and digress and…and unfortunately, my once loquacious Christopher H. Markison, I also sense through your silence, your immediate misgivings; especially now where…where I am concerned…that with my touch I would take something even more as yet unspecified from you. To that suspicion, your senses, though not yet fully dulled, are correct. Unquestionably, I will, as I have already, take much from you: that is certain.
“I will take what is needed leaving you, as it is with others in the end, what is left: your unquenchable desire; the contemplation of your own and immediate humanity and what you, without interference, would make of it. Christopher, the journey has served us well. It has afforded me the time to understand what I must do and I must explain quickly: the ampulla which works its magic on you, has also affected me: as we share a common blood, to that end, it does not differentiate. What long ago passed between our ancestors, that minute portion of Elias’ blood oath, has, within me, also been transmuted.
“Secondly, as we have moved through time and space we have cohabitated the same casing and for whatever the reason we have become “similar.” Countless of your thoughts are mine while for the moment few of mine are yours; it is part of an understanding that we now share more than a commonality.
“Understanding? What is there to understand except that you…I mean your thoughts are somewhat…somewhat disjointed. So, tell me, why exactly is that?”
“Even though the possibility exists you would neither like it nor remember?”
“Yes, I don’t care.”
“So you say now, but in the end, believe me, you will.”
“I…”
“Yes, I, I too know. Especially, of your understanding with your primary alter-ego, but as you will see…he as you…had other ideas and unknown to you voiced one such to Athena prior to your exploits which facilitated her understanding. Christopher, before your deed, Athena was persuaded to understand, that even in the event of success, the need for an additional safeguard of her first child; one that would guard his memories and deepest secrets from intrusion. Moreover, that while you slept, one that would stand as sentry…and in so doing…shield your dreams so they could not be taken and be used against you.
“After consideration the idea was agreed too. However, it was also determined that to ensure success, a viable facilitator was needed; one which was replete not only with first hand historical knowledge of you but also possessing your intrinsic thought processes associated with their repetitive onsets. Christopher, once the matter was presented and after Bions’ repetitive studies confirmed it as such both understood that there was but one all-encompassing catalyst which would suffice: a singular viable life force. It, is the priceless foundational essence upon which the ampulla is formulated: by its very nature, and with His consent, it is in harmony only to…you.
“There, are you satisfied?”
“No, you’re leaving something out? Why?”
“Yes. Shall I lie to you?”
“No.”
“It would go better if I did or remained silent...”
“No. Neither.”
“Very well. Christopher, before we left do you remember Athena told you, that you had found a voice willing to die for you. Yes, yes you do don’t you. Well here is what you did not know, that it was only after Bion had given her the ampulla that she found out the sum of its cost; for originally, the intent was but for a portion of the whole; instead to function it removed more than envisioned.
“Did it hurt?”
“No, not really. As for you it already has and for the foreseeable future you will dwell unaware of whom or what you truly are or of what has transpired. Moreover, upon our touch, your dreams will no longer haunt your every waking moment and upon acceptance of a gift consider when lover’s eyes do meet “that is how it should be.”
"Christopher H. Markison, I, Astyanax, through His Seer, am for you…your dream catcher."
Epilogue to Follow.
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Aeron waited for the predicted experience to strike her and for the first of her travel compatriots to arrive; remarkably, despite what was to occur, for the first time in her life she was…totally unafraid; she found herself “awake,” if one could term it such, as she stood at the ethereal edge of what was now realities impending awareness, in time stopped motion. She took in the moment, appreciating that the finite instant which lies between what was and what will be and touches all that would be considered life thereafter…would at last resume. By implication, the enormity of the moment was not lost upon the Priestess: the sum of the world as it was, in this universe, had long ceased to function and of all its denizens’ only she for the moment was cognizant of the fact. The very thought of such an occurrence once frightened her but now in stark contrast it was all so different; instead, she found herself consummately undaunted while marveling at her new found understanding; that shortly, regardless of its form, that an amazingly singular breathe of life would again course through each. Yet, before it did and while still sheathed in the moment’s rapture, she allowed her darting eyes to wander about the stilled room; it was the light which shined through the window which first drew her attention. Silently, she assessed the various rays of light which penetrated its panes as to their patterns and hues and marveled at the spectrum it cast which in turn led her to the next discernible phenomenon she observed.
Under other circ-umstances The Sachem of the Northern Tribes would have been alarmed, instead the snapshot merely served as an effortless confirmation of her scrutiny that, “Amazingly, even for dust, time had ceased” as the oft mercurial particles had lost their collective urgency to fall as they too now hung motionless in time/space; their diffuse paths to rest having been abruptly suspended. The resulting confirmation in her mind was existentially unavoidable: given the absence of even the faintest of surrounding thoughts which had normally bombarded her previously, that for the immediate moment, on this world, only she existed: in cognizance and alone. Again, it was a sobering thought: all else had ceased; nonetheless she was of the belief that what the “destroyer of worlds” had so abruptly begun was soon to end.
In solitude, she turned her rapt attention to each of the living statuaries whom she beheld, those of “valiant dust”* who stood before her, captured in sentence. To her keen eyes and memory, each had remained without the slightest of movements. “As a whole,” she purposely observed in past tense “they were, not are, but images, they vacuously existed: once. But until released, they were themselves, unknowingly, but shades: unmoving in time; unaware that their sudden demise was itself to another, Him, but a change of form.” Once more, her perfunctory, if not callous conclusion was unassuming; accordingly all she observed was “as it should be.” The evident, as far as her immediate surroundings were concerned, was as she remembered: “nothing had changed;” she presumed, “in this world, at least not materially; except…except for where Odysseus’ apparition had stood.” Instead, all she saw was the area’s concentric circles of spinning dust; spiraling upward and then coalescing at a center point almost a meter above the floors surface “which means” she concluded “the moment is prior to his arrival.”
It was then she heedfully scrutinized the quintessential child who still remained both as naked and as motionless as she remembered and inwardly smiled to herself in satisfaction. The object of her hunt for awareness and understanding remained as promised, in situ, without the slightest inkling of impending motion. As the opportunity now presented itself, she leisurely studied his figure, beginning with every hair that lay on his head, and then smiled to herself that even his once supposed “raccoon eyes” and elongated lashes were still as fetching and alluring as she remembered them; moreover, that even his lipstick remained as glossy as when applied so many months ago. She quickly contrasted his eyebrows with those of his sister and noted that except for the two or three hairs which strayed over the bridge of his nose that they were indistinguishable. As for his ears, she felt the clip-on earrings he wore “accentuated what were the delicate features of his face; however” she thought “as a safeguard, something more permanent is necessary.” Thereafter, the scant attention she paid to his developing chest and taught torso was offset by her interest of what she now chose to fixate upon below his narrow waist and navel: the groin area; focusing first upon it’s prominent projection and then to the two similarly sized egg shaped orbs which now nestled so gently beneath it.
Mentally she noted his mother’s words of “What you have been will come to an end” and once again ruefully thought, as she had previously, it particularly cruel to have tormented him so, when it could and should have been otherwise; to at least drop a hint and have told him why he had felt so ill. Aeron bitterly mused at her witticism “She could have avoided the subsequent actions which had followed; but then again,” she paused, tempering her thoughts with “perhaps I have judged her too quickly.”
She would have been satisfied at pushing the thought out of her head but instead the all too convincing thoughts of another, relayed specifically through one Werhner Maximillian’s timely letter, again crossed her mind “For in that sliver of time, the authority, which has moved you, as I, matures” now became, self-explanatory. “I understand” she said to no one but herself ”time is but a place in which certain things occur; such as two events some of which at the time appear meaningless; that is unless of course you are able to connect the dots elsewhere and find that they are indeed interconnected. In retrospect, the boy had told the absolute truth but no one had listened or understood his claim of “…I told you the truth…I “just” did what was necessary, as time, is of no consequence; to me it is a given and it exists to be used endlessly. A second more or less to you, in retrospect, is meaningless, is it not? What could possibly happen in a second?”
“I would reply as much is wanting and do so.” Aeron softened her initial conclusion of Julie Athena “Logically, from that moment of discovery, it appears the act itself was necessary: otherwise propelled, none of which followed would have occurred; which means that she too knew and understood she had reached a certain crossroad and that regardless of her efforts would herself cross her own Rubicon. But did she do which for both what was necessary?”
She allowed the uncertainty of the thought to roam a bit further and would have dismissed it altogether as a well-played roll of the dice: but didn’t. She chose instead to contemplate “Yes, Julie had actually taken a chance of risking all upon the uncertainty of what would follow. Her exhibiting her obstinacy…her lack of compassion…her…” she stopped her evaluation in mid-sentence then abruptly changed course thinking the obvious “no, of course, it was otherwise; quite so. It wasn’t that at all; Brisa was right from the first and had called her on it herself. Julie played it for all it was worth and then some; she had too, if only to prove a point; but really, what was the point: to prove herself to him? No, to a lost little boy, I believe the message was otherwise: of course it was. Werhner, if you are listening, I trust each will understand the differentiation of which you wrote: it is from experience we learn, why that it is better to forgive, to forget. I wonder which of the two, so desperately in need of such, would first comprehend that justifiably, in some instances, compassion would trump either a promise or obligation.
With that, again her roving eyes darted right and left and noted that the lack of polish on his fingernails. Then, up and down her eyes moved quickly to check both legs and imagined what his toes and fingers would look like with polish on them and took a small measure of satisfaction in knowing that once he had accepted her gift that that would indeed become, for the next several years, a practical necessity. In the calm which would follow, she would explain it to him later; that “The nail polish will cover what clippings are left after the nails are trimmed. If left to themselves they are a part of you which are as a bread crumb trail left in time and as such can be pursued; once applied the polish will render them as undetectable.” She knew what had already in part been determined; however, she was not the one who would tell him that as Achilles, he must and would, for the foreseeable future, hide in plain sight. After taking him all in once again the rational summation to which she concluded was “I feel nothing for him: but affection.”
To her, it was a reasonable conclusion: after all, without him she would have interminably been relegated to accepting life as it was, or had been, rather than exploiting its challenges to the fullest. Now it was different, in return, in gratitude, she would offer what she could: her attuned allegiance and devotion and a gift upon receipt, which, so it was said, would for him, seal his fate to another. “After all” she thought “in order to give, someone, in turn must also be willing to receive.”
And with that thought she marveled at the spectral image she suddenly watched: it was her, smiling while crawling out of an ever shrinking hole adjacent to the boy as her formally frightful self was reluctantly being drawn in to it. She pondered the event of passing her own self in time; and of arriving back to observe both her departure and arrival prior to their seemingly concurrent actions. She had become a witness to it all and now in thought, happily welcomed her spectral persona’s return with but one word “Enter.” Riveted, she observed the wisp move in serpentine fashion towards her; without disturbing a single particle of the dust which still hung between the two of them. Inches from her it abruptly paused coming up short before her eyes and then gently nodded in acknowledgement to her, reminding her of its presence and of its acceptance for the permission it had received. It entered the sanctuary in which she, for the remainder of this life, would reside and then His Seer spoke “Maker of All, our thanks for this world, for both our safe journey and joining.”
Aeron Deron, to this moment, the sole remaining Algonquin High Priestess of Northern Tribes, a position to which her esteemed mother once held, though warned, was unprepared for what immediately followed; for through her action of openly receiving, she had implicitly acknowledged her warm acceptance of that which she now shared with the boy: the intangibility of what was offered for his release: in every aspect…all of him; so inundated, the successive waves of his past experiences as a whole crashed in upon her. In her mind, she had instantly become confidant to all of his lives, words and deeds; and now rode their tidal waves of false hopes and comingled fears in tandem with their escorts of the crushing ruin which followed each. In her mind, she experienced their eternal turmoil’s and excruciatingly felt herself as they had for ages: overwhelmed and awash in the oceans of time; finding oneself barely afloat; constantly forced beneath the crashing waves then clawing to remain close to the surface to reach out and gasp for breath only then, when so close, to be tossed and turned as wind whipped flotsam and jetsam, eventually to be dashed upon some distant shore and then, if only for a moment, the hellish swirling nightmare would cease. Unfortunately by then she knew the truth of each successive life: that in each the dreams devilishly compounded themselves; became worse, building one upon the other and then, for its grand crescendo, as in acceptance en masse it would bow: howling while devouring all it touched; and always, always save one exception, leaving in its wake the same inevitable result. Despair. If she could, right there, she would have gasped for breath, and then in utter misery screamed aloud, but knowing better, instead, The Sachem of The Northern Tribes humbly apologized to no one in particular for her intrusion, but to all she knew as one. The riposte to her apology was to be expected, only the sound of resounding silence; and then, thankfully: absolute tranquility. She more than welcomed the interlude and if she could have, most certainly would have, wilted, while heaving a sigh of relief; instead His Seer, none other than The Sachem of the Northern Tribes, stood fast: unconquered.
And while doing so, the catcher of dreams, recounted again not only his lives, which she now held dear, but also as to the darkest secret of his secrets. Of course he had many but none approaching that which she found of the boy’s misnomer; which for the moment she carefully and in astonishment set aside as one would with a book being read, stopping, then noting the appropriate line and page completed with a marker, and resolving in eagerness after learning the truth to “finish it later.” Following that there was little left to understand. She pensively waited for whatever it was to occur thinking to herself “Why am I still mystified? How is it possible that I have, for some time, been expected? How is it that at every turn he has been one step ahead? The Sachem knew the answer and quickly went back to the page she had mentally noted and laughed at the joke; then proceeded to muse of how each face knew of her, had been told of her and how they now waited for The Sachem of the Northern Tribes, His Seer, “to distinguish the face of each fear as it approached, not only through its unique timbre but also as to the registers of its resonating frequencies and lastly as to its individual fragrances.”
Never before, had she equated fear, distress or terror as quantifiable entities, let alone death as containing a discernible and specific essence. But she knew that to each of them it was so as each successive face claimed in first person present tense before her “Death you will find has its own smell and for each of us it is quite dreadfully personal but always it begins the same way: it calls to you with a slight lilting voice that simply calls you by name to “come closer.” After hearing that, well, you know it’s looking for you but there’s no stopping it. It always gets you, the question is when.”
The sobering thoughts left her exhausted and nattering to no one in particular “Child, we have since learned, why it was never a question of when but always of why so soon: they dreaded his immediate awareness and growing potential.” Initially, it struck her as odd that she would converse in present tense to no one in particular but then again that was the secret wasn’t it? What he could do or did and when she innocently again whispered to no one in particular; never expecting a reply “Don’t worry, shortly, the night traveler will at last find safe harbor; then…” she paused as it struck her, “of course, up until recently; as a child he was always a “night traveler.”
“Yes, it could explain” she thought, “the odd sailing ship of which Odysseus had metaphorically spoken.” She glanced to the mingling dust which had yet to coalesce and amended her observation with “It could” she said again to no one in particular “explain why the odd sailing of which Odysseus has yet to speak, is actually here; in this very room and how of late, remembering the threads of his conversations, exponentially he finds it increasingly easier to travel while daydreaming.”
“Yes it could” whispered the unexpected rejoinder. Instantaneously she knew. His was the most difficult life experience to have suffered yet His was the pleasant voice which spoke “Aeron, Kwey, Kwey” to her.
“My…Elias, your voice is as soft and tender and as beautiful as I remember.”
“Tebwe?” (Truthfully?)
“Tebwe.”
In her ear she heard him whisper “Aeron”… paused…then thrice over…repeated “Bindinshozin…bindinshozin…bindinshozin” listening to the last of his fading words diminishing into nothing; until his lilting voice uttered to her “Sister, yes, it is I: “I am a night traveler…Travel all through the night…And my bed is a sailing boat…I reach for my bed every night… And take a trip places far away…To see new things and people…I travel past the harbors…Full of anchored boats…I travel past the beaches…With swaying coconut trees. I watch the waves…Embracing the shore…I watch the kids playing…And reach out my arms. Then I touch my own bed…Here comes a flash…And my boat is back…And I am back in bed. My boat sails every night…And reach home with morning light…Never did it anchor once…Still traveling every day…Hoping to reach …That unknown destination.”**
She knew he was gone but waited for him to speak again of that “unknown destination” and of finally making port at journeys end: here and at last at home. She stared at the bed, the wooden vessel upon which he had set sail and then to its bow and stern: the high foot and headboards and then to its side rails of wood. In her estimation it was a vintage eighteenth century Mary Clare’s – Shaker inspired bed yet, it was…still…in excellent condition except for the perfectly formed “B” gouge she noticed on its lower inside left front leg. Immediately she wondered enough to look at the lower right front leg, where another striation appeared, same height at mid-point and exactly opposite the first; except of course the “I” was otherwise.
She would have laughed at the obvious conclusion if not for the fact that she wanted to cry and the only way to avoid that was as the scholar she once presumed herself to be deducing “The inequitable disparity forced upon him is obvious and purposely cruel: yet, it provided the necessary crucible for the inexorable thread of resolve which has become his bulwark.” She just as quickly ridiculed herself with “Get over yourself you pompous fool” as was quite satisfied that she couldn’t and wouldn’t argue the point she couldn’t possibly win; instead, she would, as Bion, wait for her comrade, Astyanax, to come forth and fulfill his portion the bargain.
“Astyanax, or by any other name, at every turn I find him marvelously resilient. Knowing each of his faces he has not changed an iota: he remains, cunningly beautiful; but then again, being so cursed it is understandable. His was,” again she immediately corrected herself “is… the discerning knowledge upon which his current alter ego, Christopher, has moved through time. His was the recurrent nobility of purpose through which, in successive lives, had permeated each and his was the unyielding principle of determination upon which in time that they had moved: N??? ? ???????…Sieg Oder Tod...Victory or Death. His was the accrued ac-umen that time itself had unkowingly provided each with an unparalled opportunity for success: but at a cost; for each had shrewdly become the others raison-d'être and to this moment each had been one and inseparable. She laughed at Dumas’ epic line of “All for one and one for all” understanding its foundational inspiration.
Sadly, it was to that tearful inevitability, as his dream catcher, she waited; until the tear which formed in her eye began to move. She thought to wipe the side of her face but instead immediately repeated the last word she had uttered over nineteen months prior: “Still” in a time and place quite different than she had stood prior. “Still” she gasped “Still…Julia Athena, all of you, stay still and please stop; please forgive me but the fault is mine. If not for my meddling this matter would have been resolved long ago.”
“Aeron? Aeron? This is Julia, are you alright?”
“Yes of course, why would you ask?”
“Well for one, I was just speaking to Christopher when all of a sudden you interrupted me; practically yelled out one word over and over again and then for just a moment I thought you had a completely vacant look come all over your face; like you were somewhere else and then just like that in a flash you began to cry; not much mind you they practically vanished before you could wipe your eyes and started apologizing to everyone here. I understand your interest here but what on earth are you apologizing for?
“Julie, Brisa…Mr. Markison, I mean Eric we need to speak in private.”
“Why, ask me that, when I was just about to tell Christopher about the simply remarkable idea which had just come to my mind, first concerning the significance of his name but also that if I ever chose someone to put my trust in that it would be … a decision that I…that I believe in…because…”
“Because” said The Sachem of the Northern Tribes as she made her way between Brisa and Eric towards both “at heart, he is everything you had hoped for yet feared. If you please, I would ask a family favor; that before either you or your husband Eric says another word here, don’t. Just stand and listen.” I will explain it to you both” as she stared warily at the bed adding “away from here and in private. In the meantime, Brisa, while Christine takes her younger brother to her room and helps him get dressed, please take your daughter and be kind enough to wait downstairs; we’ll join you shortly. And Christine, make it something light and airy: understand?”
She did and all too clearly.
Christine watched as Aeron extended her right arm stopping it inches shy of her brother and noted the quizzical look on his face when she said “And as for you Christopher H. Markison before you take your sisters hand and leave, I ask but one thing.”
It was just after he’d touched her that she realized that for the first time that she could remember that she was alone in her thoughts and now felt completely hollow.
End Part 1/3
*Shakespeare, "Much Ado About Nothing" Act Two, Scene 1
**"Night Traveler" by Deepa Thomas
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“Prisoner of war! That is the least unfortunate kind of prisoner to be, but it is nevertheless a melancholy state. You are in the power of your enemy. You owe your life to his humanity, and your daily bread to his compassion. You must obey his orders, go where he tells you, stay where you are bid, await his pleasure, possess your soul in patience. Meanwhile the war is going on….” Winston Churchill…My Early Life: A Roving Commission…Standard Year 1930
Epilogue Part II: The Captive
So it was that after an elapsed period of over four thousand years an undeclared war ended as it began; in silence and unknown. None had marked its actual beginning let alone its end and only one of its mortal combatants, the unheralded, though singular personage known as Christopher H. Markison, had returned home; finally making port at journey’s end. His departure had gone as unnoticed as had his arrival; no marches or parades had seen him off nor hailed his auspicious return. Moreover, the considerable forces he had marshaled over time had, after victory, quickly broken camp leaving him on the parade ground standing at attention naked and alone: wondering.
It was when he eyed The Sachem of The Northern Tribes that it occurred: that a rapid succession of waking dreams passed before his eyes in curiosity. The occurrence left him questioning as to why none lingered long enough to make an impression; for each presumed fantasy which passed before his mind’s eye, in some manner of fashion, appeared in their familiarity to him, personal in nature. Despite his better judgment he immediately dismissed them; instead reaching out for help to the steady hand first presented him and immediately found that upon a touch, on many levels, he was incapable of movement; the very thought of which to him at that moment brought immediate revulsion and absolute disgust.
To The Sachem of The Northern Tribes the adverse reaction signified at least a partial success of the ampulla’s potion. She pondered the obvious task which lay before her: how does one explain to another, first, of their child’s ability to move through time and space, let alone dimension, at will? Of course to him, it was a comparatively simple procedure. She remembered his initial enlightenment to her while on their journey to Heaven’s Door of “Well, at first thought, I fold time in upon itself as one would a page in a book: forwards or back; as for difficulty in achieving either, there is little difference in the effort. You may consider the fold in time as the crease which cuts through or across the time-line itself and through which I move: in essence, a short-cut to jump instantaneously from place to place.” Do to the circ-umstances she suppressed her skepticism, kept it in check, until he continued, revealing quite matter-of-factly “Of course, as for any dimensional barrier…when crossed you will discern a rippling effect which for all intent and purpose acknowledges a transition.” She remembered his joy, not at the revelation, but of her astonished reaction. He had continued his gleeful nudging of her sensibilities with “Aeron, all dimensions are links to times and places; they exist simultaneously; some are layered, one upon the other; however the vast majority are conjoined. Sister, you would do well to remember, once visited we are their keeper.” At the time she dismissed his thought as fabrication preferring instead to contemplate the obvious which he responded to by telling her “Yes Aeron, I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking “What if you ever make a mistake or the place you wind up at isn’t exactly where you wanted to go? What happens then? Aeron, you already know the answer: as I, without the proper resonating frequencies, even with help, you get lost; sometimes it could be forever.”
But that was then and this was now and that would be the easy part of what she would convey. She ceased her reminiscences and observed her charge as he moved to take his sisters hand to take his leave of her. It was when he turned away that she recounted his last remarkably cogent thoughts to her; those prior to the ampulla’s taking its full effects upon him. It was a decidedly one sided and unexpected purging to her of the secrets he had heretofore held for years within the impenetrable fortress walls of his mind: and as preparation to her most recent occurrence, the enmass purging of his mind’s informational terabytes were but a gentle precursor of what would follow. It was when the download completed that the Seer understood: His were the words “For if you would fail, not only he, but all others will be lost to us all forever" that were spoken by others. They served as a reminder of what lay at her wards core: protect His heartfelt desire. It was then she surmised that the two were, for some time, in league and the thought, while surprising, also caused her to consider: why? But that was then and now she found her attentiveness to Christopher H. Markison growing; but sadly all she could do was watch him turn away understanding that the boy agonized as to the sudden changes within him.
Following his sister’s lead, Aeron noticed his steps had shortened to the fettered shuffles of the suddenly vanquished and his once proud shoulders now sagged and slumped forward as would one who plodded a path to nowhere while quavering in defeat. It was the askance glance that he took back at her which caused her to tremble as the tears of recognition of what he had become, formed then fell at will. The forced smile she glimpsed was short lived as his trembling lips mimed to her…“Hail Victory.” In silence and so resigned, she watched him as he was led away. Again, in those few moments before he escaped her view she remembered his brief recount of understanding…of what and why.
She remembered that he began quite personably with “Aeron, again I would remind you…there are others who exist, much like me.” She recalled he had immediately corrected himself with “No, forgive me, I misspoke. It is because I am that they are.” She recalled he immediately felt her quandary and growing uneasiness at his insinuation and straightway moved to explain, as a parent to child, instructing gently while speaking “Shush, no, no questions now, I sense your growing apprehension, the insinuation it is not what you envision: between us all will be well, merely listen. It will take time for you to assimilate what you have now experienced but be warned, shortly there is much, much more to come upon you. Prepare yourself.
“Be that as it may, Sachem, you do remember the bards words that “All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts.”* Yes, my apologies, of course you do, well, Seer, Heaven is no less the theater. There, each plays our part as have you. In so doing, He no less would suffer me or you than another and by now you should know; where he rolls the di is not often seen. It is that which has together brought us here.
“I would tell you, as for myself, despite appearance, my repeated refusals before Him and others prior to rebirth to enter the forgetful mist were in part but a ruse, one that for over three and one-half millennia has served us both: a détente, one which from the beginning He understands; from which I am now, because of you, in many ways, without fear and free.”
She remembered that of the dozens of questions she could have asked only two partially formed in her mind and before she fully contemplated either he responded to her with “You inquire first “What.” Or more precisely “What on earth are you speaking of?” Well that is the problem now isn’t it; however first I will address your second query of “Then if not for yourself why did I really do that; not enter the mist?”
The giddy laugh which preceded his assertion of “Actually, at this moment, aside from the personal reasons of which you area aware, there are two hundred and fifty six specific reasons why I refused” which further piqued her rising curiosity. “However,” he continued, “for you, I shall again first deal with the mundane. Again, that I can travel in time is really of little consequence. From experience, in that, I am not unique: and of course it is done by others with whom you are familiar. But I reiterate, it is a simple process when one accepts time as a continuous string which is malleable; possessing the elasticity of motion which allows one to fold both time and space either forward or back upon itself: Aeron, the ability to move is predicated upon one’s sense of reality. In time, you too will find yourself able to move as I have and dare I add, now, given the links provided, with a greater dimension of success.” She remembered he laughed again only this time with a greater sense of joy; upon which he suddenly and quite casually dismissed some thought with “forgive me, the witticism was unintended.” Moments later she would understand.
How does one express the emotion which follows the experience of complete understanding? Consider, The Sachem of The Northern Tribes, one, who once held in her hands a very special bracelet: comprised of two hundred and fifty-six sequential links; each scrupulously annotated in minute detail by an artisan of heretofore unsurpassed skill. One who, with proper direction, intentionally provided upon each link not only what was necessary to track and find Him but more. Of course, it suddenly dawned on The Sachem of The Northern Tribes, that if one merely sought the necessary, the obvious, never thinking to delve further; well, that in itself would be but a beginning. Such was the occurrence experienced by Aeron D. when told “find the Artisan.” To her credit, eventually, she did.
Consider her amazement in understanding its true meaning. That, each successive link in the charm not only represented, as told, a remembered life once held dear, that in itself was simple, reasonably understandable: it was the alternative to her which suddenly, on many levels, became less palpable; encompassing another truth, that of reality.
She remembered how gentle his voice when he spoke “Aeron? Until this moment, to you reality has merely been what is real: nothing more, nothing less. Scholar, here my gift to you is understanding: that from this moment forward, to you, reality is everything that is, has been or will be, whether or not it is observable or comprehensible and everything that existed, exists or will exist.** Sachem, the links in the charm you so carefully held are the enumerated gateways which will take you to other places, other times: dare I add, perhaps even to other worlds in alternative dimensions analogous to our own. The proof of such may be found upon the bracelets links as the artisan’s initials are a compilation of my computer's generated QR codes; my evidence to their existence.
“Seer, for some reason, once visited in turn, certain gateways to elsewhere appear to avail themselves; so entering which, you, in reality, become the arbiter: there, reality becomes; at your whim to exist, to disappear or simply hold in time until you deem it is prudent for release; its fate and all which comprise it are yours. Aeron, in part, that is the lesser secret I keep; all remain, but where I to enter the mist all which I believe to be real would be lost.
“Sachem, here the greater portion, the secret, of what I hold dear is…only He and I are truly aware that they exist because in dimension they are timeless. Aeron, the links are the gateways traveled to the “Mansions” of which He spoke and each portal is unique unto itself: each is an alternative manifestation of His Will; a reality unto itself. Now do you understand why I can never enter the mist?”
She remembered waiting a respectable period of time, perhaps days or maybe it was weeks before she could formulate a reply; and when she did she cried while speaking “Yes, you, through another’s urging, were to be the instrument of His destruction: for while a mortal may never kill a god under certain circ-umstances a half god could. Time, found itself as the ubiquitous companion to you both; but also the enemy within Heaven’s Gates: for that reason it constantly and so cruely pressed for your entry into the mist. In so doing it would not only eliminate you but also eradicate in part the realities which sustain Him; so weakened He and Heaven would fall.” She remembered his subsequent silence and if not for her prodding question of “How did you know?” he would have remained so for the duration of their journey back home. His subsequent explanation of “Taken by Odysseus’ hand in the dead of night I trod behind the shield he carried; one which from behind reflects the enemy that would come upon its true holder and glimpsed those that in time would harm me; I remember all of them.
“Aeron, until such time, you are the guardian of my experiences I am in your hands.”
It was to that final thought that The Sachem of The Northern Tribes stood mute, silently watching, as Christopher torpidly allowed himself to taken by the hand and be led away while thinking to himself “I don’t feel right. Things” he thought “seem different.” He had no way of knowing his sister was of the same opinion.
Moments later, hand in hand, she had led him past both Brisa and Melina, back down the hallway towards her room: hearing what she presumed to be the anxious whispers shared between those they had left. In a manner of fashion, mistakenly, she was correct as those who had greeted The Sachem of Northern Tribes had lingered and sought without success to bid Christina adieu. It was but a precursor of what would follow; none of which to her would be pleasant as her immediate isolation from who she had “intimate knowledge” left her uncharacteristically nervous and frantically thinking “What’s happened to my Chris and me? Our voices?”
It was unsettling to her that he offhandedly did not respond to any of the other silent thoughts which she unsuccessfully posed to him of “Are you alright? You’ve changed.” Her noiseless shout to him of “Answer me damn it!” went unheeded; as did her apologetic “I’m sorry for yelling but you’re scaring me… Do you still feel sick? Won’t you please, answer me? You know… I don’t feel the same inside either, Chris…I don’t know how or why but you’ve left me and I’m so lonely without you. Where did you go?” Lost, he never answered: and if he could have he would neither know what to say or do. For her the assimilation process would be gentler; and far less encompassing than that which currently had, for the moment, consumed her brother. And as they walked the feeling she sensed which now crept through her mind was tantamount to her of being swallowed alive by an all-encompassing nothing; a void of hollow desolation. The thought, though restrained, was apropos; correctly reflecting the thoughts of her now secluded brother.
She motioned her immediate intent and obediently he entered her room first; she followed, closing the door behind them. Their short walk, consisting of seconds, had ended without a spoken word between the two; and now, Christopher H. Markison stood alone having stopped before his sister’s nightstand; and thought to shake the fuzzy headed disorientation he felt out of his aching head while staring into the large vanity mirror which hung above it in total surprise. He looked first at the hair to his shoulders; but then caught the faintest of glimmers which flashed momentarily in his eyes; somehow understanding that his once bright green eyes now held a deeper secret.
Given that, he peered questionably at the overall reflection he faced; it did little to comfort him and what should have elated, if not thrilled him, instead left him wondering about what had happened and why, as subconsciously, he knew, despite what he saw, something else essentially more important about him, was missing. Moreover, he thought himself now strangely at odds with the individual he stared at: as the more he eyed his reflection in the mirror the less he understood of himself; and even less of the many faces he thought which, atop his shoulders, repeatedly took their turns staring back at him. Of course each face which in turn supplanted the other emulated to a gradation either the previous or its successor: with the all-encompassing characteristic being that all were green eyed youths who by appearance had never matured.
He had no way understanding that each supposed hallucinatory face which met his gaze was recalled out of time and was a lasting vestige of the many he had countlessly been. Instead, to him, only the evident mattered as he thought “Somehow” he paused only to confirm his supposition “I know it’s me but it isn’t. Look at me…every time I see a face and think it’s me it changes before I can get a better look at it and…and…”
That’s when the hackles which suddenly raised on his neck and arms left him suddenly aware that he had had, or thought he had at one time endured similar occurrences, where his efforts to view someone or something of importance had always presented itself only to elude him; but, for some reason, now, he was unable to recall who it was or even the matter of its significance. Moreover, his immediate attempt to discard the recurring thought not only proved fruitless but likewise heightened his misgiving that for some reason a certain facsimile was to him, in part, at the core of his dilemma. He racked his mind trying to think of what it could be but instead of the solution he sought, he succeeded only in raising more unanswerable questions which too presented themselves as enigmas; not the least of which was now manifest to him that “My eyes…my eyes used to be really green, but now I think they’re creepy.”
He could and would have dwelled on that alone for hours if not for the dull pain which, if as on command, suddenly exploded in his head. Rubber legged and wobbly he wilted into the vanity chair and waited vacantly for whatever else which was to occur; never realizing that under other circ-umstances for him he would have done no such thing. The only thing evident to him was the sudden realization that thinking of anything which pertained to his appearance made his head hurt and so he did what would be expected of one who labored under such limitations: reaching a failsafe point he stopped thinking about it.
It was then that Christine A. Markison watched her brother begin to gently rock to and fro. She thought to caress his face and began to reach out to him; and for a moment it appeared to her that he at last heard her as she watched him turn and lean expectantly towards her. However, instead of the eager smile she expected to meet her touch, he grimaced while doubling over at the waist. Helpless, she could only stand and watch him bury his head between his knees and cry: understanding that she too now stood alone and lost; unable to console who was on many an occasion not only her alter-ego but also her unspoken confidant, who at this time was still in need, especially of clothes. It was to that end that the selections she chose agreed with Aeron’s wishes and to Christine’s surprise were donned without protest. Given the circ-umstances, for him, resistance was futile.
*William Shakespeare, “As You Like It”
**Paraphrase from Wikipedia
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Epilogue Part III - A conclusion
What win I, if I gain the thing I seek?
A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy.
Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week?
Or sells eternity to get a toy?
For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy?
Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crown,
Would with the sceptre straight be strucken down?”
? William Shakespeare, The Rape of Lucrece
For some reason, midway through the conversation, the mood of the next to last meeting for one of its participants had soured. For the increasingly disgruntled woman, this morning was to be the last of what had been a grueling solid four weeks of travel covering more than two thousand miles with little rest: but she had, until this moment in time, been able to cope with the stresses involved; an obligatory phone call ahead of each arrival, greeted by all too willing strangers at a door and then seated to conduct an interview with people in some strange setting whose sole objective it was was to wheedle and cajole from her a decision favorable to them. On average she would meet three times daily, if possible more, but always afterwards check into a reserved room at a motel for the evening: where, after dinner, in solitude, she would review her itinerary for the upcoming day, bathe, apply the prescribed medicated ointment to what had been diagnosed as atoptic dermatitis to her prickly neck and then retire. As always, the Gideon's Bible in the nightstand's top draw remained untouched.
This particular morning had started the same: a wakeup call at five thirty A.M. followed by the mandatory morning bathroom repertoire; dressing and then the brief walk to the common area for her continental breakfast. Her routine fare was normal: coffee black, a cup of low-cal strawberry yogurt, one plain toasted bagel and three pats of low-cal cream cheese. She sat and ate, closed her eyes for a moment to compose herself and then opened them, surprised to find sitting before her, a handsome young man, who, in her mind, was far too good looking for his own good, who apparently had taken the liberty of seating himself at her table without her permission; one who, without a smile, simply stared at her. Under normal circ-umstances she would have instantaneously made a scene and have castigated the individual for such a presumptuous intrusion; instead she sat transfixed in silence, not wanting too, but none-the-less looking into his eyes. That is what she remembered.
That he addressed her personally by name in itself was surprising but not as much as what he told her after he spoke saying “You wish to know my name and why I am here: very well. For you my name is Quillon as for why I am here, it is merely to tell you … Hell has three gates: lust, anger and greed* and that you are free to go: if you so choose.” That too is what she remembered. In fact, she remembered everything about him but couldn’t recall him actually speaking to her; nor did she remember his actually leaving her; because she thought “I just blinked my eyes and then he was gone.” She knew better than to ask those who sat around her “Did you see where he went?” because he already "told" her that that would be the first thing that would come to mind and that "...they," those who surrounded them and ate, "would not notice him and at best would think her mad." “Besides at the moment," he told her "for them, I do not exist, you alone are the one, who for now knows… I am: here.” At this moment she remembered that at the time she didn’t think that that was at all funny; or, that she had hallucinated while sitting at her breakfast table in front of thirty or so strangers who all, for some reason, chose to turn and stare at her at exactly the same moment she opened her eyes, sitting alone, staring at an vacant chair, to find he had vanished. Nor did she understand why the room suddenly smelled of oranges. All she understood was that the obligation of business called.
Business had always been good but now it was better because of the vision she had had; one which began several years ago. Initially it was but a random thought, a gentle seed planted in her mind of something wonderful that she remembered after waking up one morning. Then, it was pleasing to her, now it had become an all-consuming obsession: in fact, it had become a recurrent dream, always the last of her many dreams which crept its way into her mind before waking and it all centered upon an impartial judgment concerning an award, a discriminating verdict that she alone would render.
Of course that the prize she offered was an all-expense paid summer of six-weeks, for one, at her camp (travel included) was in itself no small item of consideration as by her estimation that that alone was worth over two thousand dollars; a fact despite which all of the previous summer sessions, which even in bad economic times, had always been booked solid. Moreover, the waiting list for this year’s summer period was remarkably well over three hundred for the next available slot. If she had the ability she would have taken them all but pragmatically she understood the impossibility but was angered because “it was good money gone to no use…but then again….I find the adage true that a fool and his money are soon parted.”
Given that thought she did what came naturally and that was continuing to entice the well-endowed by offering a one in sixty five chance, with no guarantees, for something more: wining a contest whose entry fee she established at an additional sum of five hundred dollars (for an extended stay of eight weeks) and the opportunity to win not only the handsome sum of five thousand dollars but also a place on the cover of her own creation which she had until this moment affectionately called “ Je suis…là."
That was her newest venture: it would be a forty page quarterly devoted entirely to the day to day activities at her pride and joy. Her current brochure’s circulation now numbered over two-hundred and forty thousand, and as many would be subscribers to her newest venture had voiced an interest in her creation she was encouraged that from either personal first-hand knowledge or via word of mouth that they were willing and able to pay the ten dollar quarterly fee (or the reduced rate of $35 if purchased and prepaid yearly) for its delivery right to their doorstep: all neatly sealed and wrapped in weatherproofed double layered pink plastic. It was a lucrative venture, promising that while the additional two weeks at her camp would itself be distinctive it was the cover she would use to entice the increased funding she desired, without the additional burden of additional attendees. Instead of the generic pastoral cover on a simple four page brochure that she had used for over thirty years since assuming financial, administrative and daily operative control, the extolled image of a lone contestant would for the first time adorn its face; moreover, the majority of the remaining pages would be a complete pictorial doc-umentation of his entire stay from start to finish replete not only with captioned balloon thoughts but also accompanied by detailed explanations offering insights; notes, as to what occurred both prior and immediately after the photo’s capture. To her mind the plan was sound and could not fail. How little did she know that she was right.
So it came as a complete shock that without notice that the middle aged woman abruptly rose from the porch settee and curtly excused herself with a terse “Enough of this!” The other two who sought her favor were startled and looked back at her in surprise. The two, whom she knew previously, sat speechless even though just moments prior, each had engaged her in what was thought as a genial, though decidedly, one sided conversation. In their mind there was not a hint of tension whereas now it was manifest as she stood with fists clenched as she glared down at them both.
To whom she thought would have been an excellent prospective and lasting client; she forced a genial smile followed by another which to some could have been interpreted as one of malicious intent after which she glanced at her cellphone with a scornful frown. “Twenty two minutes” she muttered “Almost a complete waste of a good twenty two minutes of my time.” She glared again at the couple, especially the male, who now simply by his presence irked her, groused to herself “I’m short of time” and never paused to hear their protestations while continuing to vent “I’m leaving, but first, your submission to the contest was photo-shopped; don’t bother to deny it; it’s a fact standing right here in comparison, one which you cannot deny. Second, the on-line brochure specifically noted that all prospective campers as well as contestants were required, I repeat required without exception, to meet our minimum uniform dress code prior to my arrival and moreover all were subject to my personal approval.” She paused to adjust the chaffing pashmina which circled her neck and then pointed to the form of the misty eyed carrot topped youth with spindly legs who stood trembling in a diaphanous pastel skirt with matching blouse not five feet from her continuing “Which this, this concoction of whatever it is is not. Look at this…”she pointed “as pathetic an attempt I’ve ever witnessed…besides the lingerie beneath the two matching crepe panels is far too assuming. You must realize that the first two I’ve seen today were far superior if not mildly amusing in their attempts to please me. Unfortunately Sally, I find nothing to warrant my further presence here.”
She took two steps towards the door, paused and turned while offering “Don’t bother getting up and seeing me to the door. I know where it is. I’ll let myself out and ohh, by the way, as your online application for his unconditional enrollment was accepted two days ago your prepayment of three thousand dollars for this summer’s six weeks session has already been processed. The electronic transfer has been credited.
“And Sally, while I’m on the subject, I have yet to receive your summation of expectations which are necessary if attendance actually occurs. Dearie, after our parting if you are so inclined to have a change of heart, I’ll understand; but I should remind you again that as before there still remains a strict non-cancellation policy as with approval, the immediate distribution of all sums tendered commences: especially those related to the camper’s customized and tailored needs in advance of their arrival; all of which are necessary for the duration of his stay. As a former counselor you know what’s entailed and that I could rattle off at least a dozen or so right now but I’m pressed for time so if it matters at all I’ll forward a list…if only to refresh little Floyds mind that is: do let me know.
“Ohh, and that being said, I should reiterate, that regardless of circ-umstance or of our past association, vous-moi-lui-nous (you-me-him-us) well… that the fees, upon acceptance, are non-refundable; which means, that irrespective of your misgivings I do expect an attendee.
In a grand sweeping gesture which encompassed both the boy (Fred) and his father (Floyd) she mirthfully concluded “Either one will do. Though if it’s him” she said with a nod to Floyd “You know, now, even with your help, he still might appear out of place." Of course, she understood that it would be freckle faced Fred that would be spending the summer with her and that a henpecked Floyd would be otherwise occupied. “Yes” she thought to herself “It’s been over twenty years and I still remember Frederica. He still wears the pants in the house under the very apron I gave him.”
Without further ado she exited; walked to her ceramic red sedan, unlocked its door and entered without so much of a thought as to what she had just done. To her it was just business: nothing personal. In fairness however she had inkling. “It was a haunting feeling, the sort of sensation you get when you wonder whether you are two people, the other of which does things you can't explain, bad and terrible things.”* On many levels she was right again.
In any event, she eased herself back against the seat; pressed the ignition and then promptly set the temperature control to 76. She turned and then reached to her right, lifting from the passenger seat the final folder of the day: she had red tagged it herself. She tore at its seal, muttered an obscenity concerning the folder ruining her manicure, then withdrew the contents and dismissed the temporary tingle she felt when she had touched it as meaningless; besides, she had certain expectations and had purposely saved this one for last. She had no way of knowing it was really planned as such.
She peered into the folder and withdrew its contents. She looked at the handwritten cover letter of “J. A. Markison” again; it appeared in order; had been stapled pro-forma to the accompanied application which on the reverse page had been time stamped upon receipt and then at a later date imprinted again as “Approved.” She gave a cursory review to the third page. It was the client’s telephone log and it noted that for this particular client, that in a thirty day period, just prior, that over one hundred calls were made: morning, noon and night; each initiated by the applicant whose concern was successfully culminating her sons transgender issues. If only for importunity the sheer number of calls would have finally led to her office bumping the applicant to the very top of the waiting list. Of course, the unexpected Fed Ex package she received which contained an aromatic note that stated “…for immediate admission if possible I have enclosed a certified check for an additional thousand dollars with the promise of an additional three thousand upon a successful stay” added impetus to the decision. At that moment, the point became moot; the applicant was immediately registered in abstentia and upon notification of such all phone calls, except for the last, noted twelve days prior, had ceased. The wheel had been sufficiently greased. She marveled that in all her years she had had only two others, who were as insistent and paid as well and both their progeny were still on board with the program. She mused at the longevity of the prospective relationship. She was right.
She also knew that the accompanying CD supplied by the applicant held a dozen or more images of the subject in question: Christopher H. Markison. Those were the images which, after she first viewed them, held her spellbound as the initial thought which crossed her mind was that not only was he beautiful but to her the face looked all too familiar; but of course she thought at the time, that that was impossible for they had never met: well, as for time and place; that is what she thought.
Instinctively, it can be said, she had misgivings; certain undefined qualms which nagged at her but none-the-less she pushed them all aside and ordered her staff to research the possible attendee in depth. Naturally, their exhaustive results proved fruitless. With that in mind she reached behind the passenger seat for her lap top and placed it on same with the screen facing her; powered it, waited a few moments, then opened the CD case and slid the disk into to the slot and waited for the first image to appear; took a glance to confirm what she already knew that “If true, he is absolutely and stunningly beautiful” and then turned her attention to her onboard GPS; entered the address, placed the car in gear and then forced the accelerator down. The monotone voice of her GPS sparked her desire to “Hurry” after it informed her that the “Destination entered…is forty three miles…travel time…sixty seven minutes…proceed west for …” and turned it off after hearing its admonitions concerning various road conditions and of an approaching batch of particularly bad weather. Instead of waiting she threw caution to the wind and forced the accelerator to the floor expecting the velocity to increase proportionately to her effort: it did and the digital indicator read as expected, steadily and consistently she read its progress to herself. She committed to cruise at 88 m.p.h. and was well on her way from where she had been to where she was going: and no one would be the wiser.
Twenty minutes later, she observed the contiguous horizons; all of which had blackened, the enormous buildup of thunderheads and the sharp jagged white bolts which incessantly spewed ominously forth from the storms now solid curtain wall began to concern her. Minutes later the fast moving system had closed upon itself: isolating its efforts solely upon one particular area; the one which encircled her still moving vehicle. There she sat, observing the maelstrom as she drove enduring its effusive bolts while they rained to earth; torching not only the highway behind her but also to either side of her. The thought which formed to her was that not only did the bolts track her every movement but actually were herding her forward for miles on end.
It was at that point that she lost her nerve, thought to stop: but didn’t. In all fairness it was not that she could as the moment she considered doing so, the bolts appeared to increase in their ferocity directly to the rear of her vehicle and inched terrifyingly closer with each stroke: it was a basic understanding that she proceed lest she be struck. She thought of calling ahead and delaying her arrival: but didn’t. Thought about crying because she was afraid: but didn’t. Thought about saying a prayer, even a small one, but couldn’t find the right words; not only because she never touched a Bible but also because they burned when she thought of them. She thought of Je suis là which should have made her happy: but now didn’t like anything about it. Instead she pressed on, drove into an aperture which had immediately opened before her and upon exit passed and stared at those who had pulled over onto the shoulder of the road as if they were loons, not only heedless of their plights but oblivious to the spectral image of what had approached and then past her in the oncoming lane.
It was a similar make car as the one she drove; driven by an individual whose face she would have immediately recognized and whose voice, one remarkably similar to hers, was screaming at top of her lungs for escape from the swirling maelstrom in which she found herself. She totally missed the look of horror on the woman’s face when some type of understanding occurred: that one was passing one’s identical self in going somewhere in opposite directions. She might have reacted if she had looked into her rear view mirror just long enough to see a car, exactly like hers simply dissolve and vanish into thin air. In short, even if she knew, she never would have given either a second thought nor at the moment did she care; she should have, but didn’t. She should have felt so many things, especially the slight hesitation in the timing of the car’s engine or of the trivial change of harmony in the music she was listening to at the time or that the digital clock on her dash had repeated itself or that the tickling that she had felt prior on her fingertips had now moved up both arms to encompass first her shoulders and then the rest of her but concentrated itself around her neck and was just about to scream aloud that it burned when the transition occurred: but didn’t. Instead she simply opened her eyes as after an operation; viewed the road ahead, noted that the inclement weather was now well behind her and then being somewhat bewildered took a deep breath. She didn’t understand what had happened and thought that she had blanked out momentarily and considered “I was lucky not to have driven off the road and I’m damned glad that I didn’t.
That she didn’t understand what happened was a misunderestimation of what actually occurred but none-the-less: true. As for her blanking out…on many levels being expunged even in simultaneously concurrent realities takes many forms so that too was for her: true. Considering one lucky not to have driven off a road is desirable; however, given a certain perspective, that depends on the road ones on and its final destination after all, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Her concluding thought of “I’m damned glad that I didn’t” was truly an unfortunate choice of words.
Twenty five minutes later and right on time she parked in the driveway of the Markison residence. Though feeling worn she walked up to the door hoping that all would go according to plan: she didn’t know it but it would.
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*? Bhagavad Gita “Hell has three gates: lust, anger, and greed”
**? Donald Miller, Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality
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P.S. For those who don't par le vous.... Je Suis...La....it means..."I am...here."
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P.O.C. The Aftermath....coming soon