Chapter
16, The Disorganized Mind
“Why
have you kept silent for so long?” This question is asked by a man, clearly
concerned, yet also bordering on angry.
I
am sitting on the steps leading to the locked room. I know this now. The argument
is taking place in the family room. It’s dark outside; I can hear the wind
whipping through the trees. I am nervous, fearful of being caught
eavesdropping.
“Because,”
the words slow, thoughtful, but non-apologetic, “I thought it was the best
thing for Ivy…” I recognize her voice, a memory within a dream: Mother. She
sighs, sounding near to tears. I do not know where she is, for I am unable to
see either of them, but imagine her sitting on the couch, elbows on knees, and
head in her hands. Somehow, I have full recollection of what she looks like,
how she positions her body, and the way her face changes with emotions. “I honestly
thought I would never see him again.”
There
is a loud clap of hands, startling me. My heart beats faster, harder. I struggle
to get it under control, to ensure my ability to hear the rest of the
conversation. This proves to be unnecessary. The man raises his voice. “But then
he came back…” I hear footsteps, in a rhythm of pacing, “And with someone! It’s
like he wanted to rub it in your face! And of course, all of those summer
vacations weren’t what they seemed.”
“Oliver,”
She said, just above a whisper, but packed with force, “you’ll wake Ivy!” So,
the man is my uncle. He is Oliver. Was he killed because of what he found out?
“Well?”
He sounded resigned, his pacing halted… “We need to do something about this. You
deserve more.”
“Oliver,
don’t! You don’t know what you’ll be getting yourself into. I’ve made it this
far without problems; just leave well enough, alone.” Mom sounded tired, the
fight in her gone. I cannot help but wonder what transpired to make her believe
the only course of action was secrecy. But what was the secret?
“Well
enough?” Oliver sounded incredulous. “Not for me, and it shouldn’t be for you
either–”
“How
do you even know all of this? How did you even find out about him in the first
place? Is that why you came back?”
“Does
Mom know?” There was a momentary pause. I pictured a sharing of glances, words
not needed. “Of course she knows. She probably even helped you hide the truth…”
“Oliver,
how did you find out?”
“Really,
Rosemarie, it doesn’t matter how I found out, just that I have. What would Dad
say if he knew?”
Dad?
As
in Grandpa?
As
in Carter Sanders?
~~~
Stella, Ava, and I are in the village,
eating dinner at Betsy’s – my mind is a cloud of thoughts, dreams, and
memories, I am not in the present and take no notice of my food (odd, right?).
Dusk is falling. We slept most of the day away, seeing as how we were up all
night. I dreamt of my mother and uncle, though I am unable to recreate exactly
what took place. It’s weird. In the dream, I knew my mother, I knew the cabin,
I knew that something terrible was about to happen. But, upon waking,
everything I knew flew out the window with the sun. How is it that my dream is
so tangible in the moment, but once conscious it’s further than a distant
memory?
I haven’t shared this dream yet. I am
not sure why, but I know something within me is saying no. It also dawns on me
that I have yet to show Stella my painting. Again, I wonder why, but not enough
to spend too much time on it. Something is happening to me, and with each piece
of this secret encased mystery, the depths of my soul are slowly revealed. I do
not know what to do with all of this expansion. I feel stretched, beyond
anything I have ever considered to be my truth. I feel the need to pray:
Lord,
I am still lost. You know this. I have no idea what to do, and I fear that I am
not seeing Your path for me clearly. Please light my way, so I cannot miss it,
having no choice but to follow You. Amen.
For some reason, this prayer doesn’t
lift me the way I had hoped. I am bordering on internal desperation, though I
am not really sure what that means. I have too many questions, not enough
answers, and it is deflating. Ultimately, though, I believe God will continue
to be here, and I hope I stay open to receiving Him.
Todd’s face continues to play peek-a-boo
within my mind. I know not much time has passed, its only day six of my vacation,
but it feels like much longer since I have last seen him; Or talked to him. A part
of me misses him. I miss his laughter, his hand holding mine, his support. But,
I know that I need to give my time and attention to this lost friend from
another time.
What am I to do with Ava? Again, weird; though,
weird really doesn’t give what I am feeling and thinking justice. I am mentally
disoriented. My mind mocks me: choose
your adjective. I am so confused, that I cannot even pick the appropriate
word to describe the type of confusion I am living. Too much is floating in my
mind. I see words, images.
I must organize my thoughts, but how?
Be
still…
Clearly, I am not abiding God’s instruction
very well, or I wouldn’t continue to get this gentle reminder. Ok, be still. I
envision the cloudy thoughts of my mind rolling out, as if a great gust of wind
has sent them packing. I picture only clear blue skies. Vast and empty sky
equals uncluttered mind.
I hear scraping of chairs, and realize Stella
and Ava are rising. Stella laughs, a beautiful melody, at something Ava has
said. I smile at the two of them, light in their faces. It helps me to know
they have hit it off. Feeling the need to be an active participant – how much
time has passed? – I ask a question. “Do you mind if we check out Reticence
Unlocked? This might sound weird, but I want to ask the current owners if I can
check out the back of the store.” I sort of cringe, my nose scrunched,
shoulders slightly hunched, expecting their reaction to prove to me just how
ridiculous this idea is.
~~~
It turns out, the current owners were
fans of Lillian Sanders, my grandmother, and willingly let me tour the back
rooms without reservation. I also arrived just before closing; they even felt
comfortable enough to allow me to stay after their departure. Ava took it upon
herself to show Stella around town, believing I needed to go on this venture
alone. I am completely ok with this, knowing I would have a hard time, feeling
rushed, or worse yet, watched.
My tour started with the customer
service desk, in the front of the store. I entered through the door from my
memory, during my last visit, behind the counter. Once in the back, to my left
an office, to my right, behind the Antiques room, resided a book restoration
center. Facing this room: to my right, the connecting door from Antiques I noticed the day before; before me, an L shaped counter wrapped the room
to my left, with open shelves above: bottles of chemicals, various brushes,
masks, and other things I could not visually absorb. This room was walled off
from the hall, a glass door allowing for visibility from the office desk.
Following down the small hall, on the right
was an incredibly small kitchenette, running along the wall shared with the restoration
room. It housed a small sink, under mounted fridge, and a small strip of open
shelves above the counter. A small table with three chairs was pushed up
against a half height wall opposite the counter, but open to the storage room.
The storage room was a two story space, with a wall of windows at the back. The
moon was visible from the windows, its illumination incredible.
So, here I am, standing just inside the
office, the restoration room behind me. Directly across from the door is a vast
desk, the illumination from the night sky not quite reaching the office, but I
do not want artificial light. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. Bookshelves
line the walls on either side of me. A large antiqued mirror hangs behind
the desk, an impressive chair below the mirror. There is something familiar
about the space, though I cannot put my finger on it.
I am about to take my first step toward
the desk, to look within their drawers, I hear the creak of old hinges,
groaning with age. Closing my eyes, I hear a shuffling behind me in the
restoration room. I am frozen, unable to move. I begin to feel the physical responses
I am becoming familiar with: racing heart, quickened breath, spreading fear. I
decide fear is not going to overcome me. Resolve asserted I open my eyes...
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