Promises, Obligations and Consequences

[teddi]

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.

[teddi]

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

[teddi]

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 ...

[teddi]

"... 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.

[teddi]

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, ...

[teddi]

"...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 ...

[teddi]

"...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