Emotional Structures (Working Title): Chapter 4, Conclusion
Jan 09 '03
The Bottom Line The final chapter of the story...... I think I'll stick with easier topics next time......
The first chapter was here: http://www.epinions.com/content_3049496708
The second chapter was here: http://www.epinions.com/content_3049955460
The third chapter was here: http://www.epinions.com/content_3051921540
This is the final chapter. As with the previous chapter, I was hoping to make some sort of point, but am worried that it may have come out very badly, considering that it's dicey territory.
Karen had returned to her home. Joanna attempted to continue on with everyday chores, vacuuming the kitchen floor, but with little other purpose than to fill time.
Erica, on the other hand, sat by the kitchen table, looking at that machine, inhaling all those pieces of dirt. These ordinary elements of the day became even more of an escape, it seemed. Even watching somebody else doing house chores was a partially effective escape. But that didn’t last. The brain was unwilling to remain dormant.
“Where’s Daddy? When’s he coming home?”, Erica sobbed quietly.
“He’ll be home soon, honey... don’t worry.” All Joanna could do was ensure, over and over again, that everything would be okay. Repeat constantly and consistently that this house would be safe.......
“Can I go see Danny tomorrow.... if everything is safe?”,
..... even if she had to add that consistency with some regrettable acts.
“Erica, I don’t think it’s going to be safe tomorrow.....”
“No?”, her word isolated in a fog of misunderstanding.
“No... ahh......”, squinting her eyes. “.... maybe you shouldn’t go to Danny’s so much.... maybe it’s... it’s not a great idea. Danny.... his family might not be safe in their house. He might not be safe. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Those people..... are going to have a lot of trouble in the next little while.”
One thing I can control......
“I don’t want you to get yourself hurt.....”
Erica’s eyes attempted to dichipere the code written on her mother’s face, as she tried interpreting her mother’s speech. Her mind then reopened the file from earlier. This time, the images weren’t disembodied visions of what she feared may happen, they were real things, happening in front of her, as she stood, helplessly........
“Erica, you don’t realize what goes on in the rest of the world. When you grow up you’ll understand where I’m coming from with this.”
Erica’s eyes liquified. If her mother had just ceased at the point where she said “I don’t want you to get yourself hurt.”, Erica may not have had even a drop of desire to question her mother’s authority. But now, Erica felt wounded, as if it were wrong to have spoken to Danny at any time in her life.....
“The world,”, Joanna continued, “is a scary place, honey. You .... you just see your friends, go to school, watch your favorite TV shows, you don’t .... you don’t look anywhere beyond that. You don’t want to see what is really out there. People from other parts of the world..... aren’t like you and me. They aren’t the same as we are.”
Erica squinted, not wanting to cry. “Nobody... is the same as I am. That would... that would be kind of boring, wouldn’t it?”, her voice unable to fully disguise her sobs.
“But, Erica...”, gripping her daughter’s shoulders. “... they have different beliefs. They act differently. They’re.... different. They are not what a typical American is like. I mean --- they’re not all bad. But you have to be careful of them. You didn’t hear all that Karen said, did you?”, she added in a sort of panic.
Erica thought about the vacation that her parents had planned. The vacation that involved crossing borders.
“Are people in Canada different, too?”, she asked, worryingly. “Is it dangerous over there, too? You’re ... you’re not going to go there, are you?”
Joanna stammered. “That’s... that’s not the same. Really, it’s not. I... I’m talking about the other side of the world. It’s really mysterious over there; you don’t know what to expect with those sorts of people.”
“Your friends come from the other side of the world, hmmm? Israel? They... don’t scare me any. Danny’s cousins live in the same area... don’t they? What’s so scary about them? Only bad people are scary........”, beginning to pout, no longer able to sort through her mother’s statements with confidence.
Joanna’s stress level began to increase. She could feel the sweat forming across her forehead.
“Erica, you ask too many questions. This isn’t the right time.........”, hoping to halt this inquiry by gentle censure and desperate hugs.
She turned her attention to the dirty dishes. Haven’t been touched since September 10. Two days behind. Joanna rarely found herself neglecting crucial duties.
She quietly placed the plates and the glasses and the utensils inside the plastic racks of the dishwashing machine. She had to be careful. Her thoughts took majority control of her vital motor functions. She did not want to start breaking good plates all because of distraction due to more critical memories.
She saw the President on television this afternoon. The man was emotional. He tried his utmost to convey a true sense of solidarity with the common folk, and yet, at the same time, override it with impressions of leadership.
Joanna felt that he succeeded. He must have succeeded. He was the President. That was his job. And he was also the sort who came across as more of an ordinary, less pedantic sort. He was just a fellow, not an arrogant politician looking down on his citizens. Perhaps that ordinariness was just merely how he appeared, not how he really was. But it was enough to make her feel that he would sincerely, honestly, do his best.
Joanna wasn’t permitted to judge him in any other way. She was well aware that the climate would become consoling, mournful, patriotic, and suspicious of any tears or scars in this perfected fabric. That was the way that it would be. She didn’t want to be a split in the foundation of the country.
She wasn’t a leader. She was a follower. Didn’t have the soul to be a leader. Didn’t have any choice but to say those things that she said to her daughter. It was either that or live with the possibility of something more than regrettable affecting her and her family. She felt a twinge of shame. But all she wanted right now was Richard, Erica...... nothing else.
Joanna was a coward.
But she would justify this. Better a coward than an outcast, or a dead woman.
Karen injected the fear into Joanna’s body this afternoon, and Joanna hadn’t the will to find a vaccine for it. The fear was the anchor that kept Joanna from drifting off into the rough waters of secrets and novel experiences.
She sheltered herself very well, making it easy for her to play the coward. If she had a truly open mind, if she had an open, illuminating life, then she would probably react differently.
She only knew the surfaces of things. She encountered all types of people, heard many sound bites about other cultures, and even tasted samples of their food at exclusive restaurants. But she didn’t know the people behind the texts of ethnicity; not enough to see those people as individuals. As just fellows. She put a wall around herself, around the classroom in her mind, banning anything that was not exactly like her from the front row. Many walls are difficult to tear down.
She turned on the dishwater, expecting to hear the usual rumblings and clangings inside. The noises made havoc within the skies of her mental atmosphere. She wanted to scream. She wanted to tear her hair out in a bloody, violent performance. She wanted to wound herself with shame, and force everyone to witness it, and feel shame themselves. But that wasn’t to be permitted. Not now. Perhaps not ever...........
The time was seven fifteen pm. Erica sat near the window, hoping for any glimmer of lightness to expertly illuminate the windowpane of gloominess that cooly stood in front of her.
She watched every car that came into her view. She hoped that perhaps a driver, or a passenger, was that of her father. But she didn’t recognize anyone. Where was he? He hasn’t been seen by her worried eyes since yesterday morning.
“Erica?”, Joanna said sadly. “What are you looking for?”
“Nothing.”, she warbled, unconvincingly.
Joanna pined to be able to understand what her daughter was feeling inside. Joanna was far too old, too removed, too ignorant, of innocence, to comprehend Erica’s behavior.
“It’s okay....”, she wanted to say, but she was too exhausted to continue. She realized that Erica was not going to be fully convinced until Richard returned home, until he appeared in front of her eyes.
Erica wasn’t able to look evenly, calmly, at her mother. She didn't understand why her mother needed to become involved in this tragedy, in the way that she did. Erica just wanted to preserve her own little happiness, as any other child, or, indeed, any other adult would want. Why does she have to lose friends because of what happened today? Why did her life have to be affected?
It was affected. She had to watch the television coverage. Even though her psyche was youthful, fragile, incomplete, she would, more likely than not, recall this apocalyptic footage for the rest of her years. That was enough. She didn’t need to be affected any deeper.
...... what will happen to Danny.... will he be able to come back to school..........
She was a child. She didn’t know anything about politics. She didn't even fully understand elections. She knew that people went to choose the boss of the country... the President. But she didn’t understand the functions of the two -party system, or what the differences were, if indeed there were any.
She didn’t understand anything other than her subconscious feeling that something wasn’t proper.
She knew that there was bad people in the world. She knew that there were bullies in school who like to pick on innocents and steal their lunch money. She knew that there were other kids who liked to do bad things, stuff that got their parents angry.
Her only true expression of bigotry was when she would tease the boys as a gender, saying in her own amusing way how inferior the boys were. When she felt dislike, it was for specific people, for proven or imagined misdeeds. “So-and-so is a snot.” “She’s so mean!” and so on. She didn’t comprehend the notion that one could hate an entire group of people, or even cast suspicion over one. She was not yet fully educated on the differences between people. People were different -- but that concept didn’t register very well with her.
She didn’t appreciate the nuances of bigotry. She didn’t respect the details of something that involved blanketing an entire group with blame, with specific faults proven only by the actions of a few. Danny was a good friend. He was a nice kid. His mother was a kind woman, never committing an action that was frightening or suspect in front of Erica’s eyes. Danny’s mother didn’t act erratic, strange, or threatening.... no more than you or me.
Erica felt as if she were being punished for having spoken to Danny, for having dared to. She felt that the world around her was changed forever. She didn’t realize clearly that the world changed irreversibly for everyone else as well. She was so absorbed in her own problems that she never thought about the situations of others. She never thought that perhaps other children suffered even worse than she.
In the next few weeks, or months, she’ll slowly learn about how other children had lost relatives, how other children have been orphaned, how other children will never see those people ever again. This wouldn’t make Erica’s life any easier, learning about other children’s heartaches will only create even more anxiety for her. She will only wonder if perhaps another attack will happen... and if she will lose her father, or maybe even her mother. It would be worse than merely losing the privileges of meeting with certain friends.
She was unable to look on the bright side. Every minute of the future was an anticipation of the worse kind of dread. But she couldn’t cry at the fear. She was slowly growing more jaded, more numb, like any other adult may perhaps soon become.
A few years previous, she was waiting in line, at a haunted house presentation for Halloween. For about the first forty-five minutes, Erica was cracking jokes, making fun of the adults, taunting them that they’d be more scared than she. But as the group approached ever closer to the entrance, Erica was slowly being lowered, unwillingly, into a well of panic. She wasn’t able to face the potential terror of what she was to witness. She wouldn’t even face up to the experience with her eyes. She’d turn them away... away from the truth, even if it was revealed to be far less horrid than what was contained within her fevered imagination.
At this moment, Erica was attempting to bottle up her emotions, to not reveal what she was thinking. She didn’t want to betray her confusion. She wanted to remain silent. She wasn’t able to face up to the fact that nothing was as simple as it seemed. She didn’t want to face up to the truth that her mother was just as flawed and as imperfect as an ordinary person would be. She didn’t want to discover that things were going to get more complicated as she grew up. She wanted to hide her hands in front of her face. She didn’t want to peer between her fingers only to discover an even more ugly sight than what she had already witnessed.
........... she saw it. A car. Entering the driveway. Her father’s car.
Erica turned to her mother, forgetting everything she had felt about her. Suddenly, it didn’t seem to matter anymore.
“Mommy! Daddy’s home!!”
Joanna ‘s face shone. She knew he would arrive, but the fact of this moment was as if an enormous weight was lifted from her distressed heart.
They both put their shoes on. They had no patience to wait for him to enter the house. They wanted to confirm, immediately, the return of the husband and of the father.
The sky was a gray, mournful dusk. But there was one slither of sunshine peeking through the clouds.
“Richard!”, she sobbed, her voice shaking as she came even more closer to him.
“Daddy!”, Erica cried.
The three of them embraced.
The two, mature woman and young child, felt the beating of their hearts, as their undeniable joy overtook every bit of their soul. Joanna knew that this embrace would occur. Erica hoped that it would. Yet their emotions matched.
“Richard.... I’m so happy that you’re here.”
“I’m so happy to see you....”, he replied.
“My God, Richard.....” Joanna sighed, kissing him. “Your eyes are so dark.” She kissed near the eyes, as if her lips could soothe the psychical ache of fatigue.
“Yea, I’ve been awake for forty hours... I’m .... I’m beat......”
“Well, you can come inside and fall on the couch for as long as you need to.....”, she whispered.
“Maybe I could just lay down on your shoulder for a while instead....”, resting his chin more forcefully on her shoulder.
Joanna let him rest. She wanted this embrace, she wanted to be able to kiss his face. She wanted, wanted this. She was so worried, about recapturing those lost embraces. Many other people were not so lucky. Their lost embraces would never be found. She felt selfish at this moment, but she did not know how to rectify this feeling to her utmost satisfaction.
Erica held her dad as tightly within her grasp as she found possible. She didn’t want him to walk away. She didn’t want him to walk away from this house, ever again. Out of sight, in that peculiar and scary new world.
But she’d never tell anybody that..........
“Hey, Erica....”, mussing her hair with his hand. “You missed me, huh?
“Well, not all that much now.”, feeling herself about to break. “You’re just going to fall over because you’re so tired... I have to carry you..... ugghhh... all the way to the house!”
The parents laughed quietly, wearily, seeing through Erica’s flimsy emotional facade, but feeling grateful that a tiny space remained for levity.
“How has she been?”, asking Joanna.
“Well, you know.... just how a ten year old should act when something like this happens......”
“How... have you been.....?”
“Well..... umm, just like a thirty-something woman ought to feel.......”
The phrases were enigmatic, secretive, but they revealed all that was needed. Words weren’t needed to express this glimmer of hope, in this moment of uncertain tragedy.
“Joanna...... I’m going to be working... indefinitely. They’ll need a lot of enforcement..... just in case.....”
Joanna’s eyes were a sticky puddle of tears. “Just in case! I try to be brave... but I can feel it in my bones. The feeling that this isn’t the end.......... the feeling that I have to look over my shoulder at everything, at everyone.....”
“Don’t worry, honey. Nothing’s going to happen. Bush will know what to do. He has his cabinet, they’re all intelligent guys. We.... we slipped up. But that’s not going happen again.........”
Joanna hoped that Richard was correct. She hoped that in a number of weeks the criminals would be caught, tried, and dispatched in that Texas sort of justice that Bush was always keen on. In this case, this plot progression would be well-earned, thereby ensuring that her saddening instincts would go unsatisfied.
“Well, let’s go inside....”, Joanna signed, her arm wrapped around his back, as they began to walk to the front door.
Erica clung to her dad’s waist, and was almost dragged across the ground, unwilling to let go of him, needing to prove to herself that he was here, he was home.
Joanna wanted to say something else, anything else. She wanted the voices to continue. Silence was a walk into danger, into the unknown.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about feeling guilty for taking time off now.....do you?”
A bad joke. God, that was so bad. A dagger dug into her sense of empathy. But she had no sense of logic, with the illogic surrounding her.
Richard reflected on those words. “Actually... I wish I were feeling guilty. I wish I were feeling guilty, while puttering around in a golf course, somewhere in the middle of Prince Edward Island, or New Brunswick, or wherever it was that we were going..... any other feeling, than the feelings I’m having now....”
“Please....”, she sighed, as they languished near the front door. “Don’t talk about that.... let’s just go inside.....”
But the two could not ignore what was just said. The words reminded them that there was a time when such minutiae -- neurotic guilt, vacations, golf courses, anything -- were often all the parts that needed to form a person’s life. In an instant, the structures crumbled. The pieces could not be put back together. Everyone stood around the pieces, saying to themselves that they could not determine the time when it would feel appropriate to rebuild the structures. To rebuild their lives.
END
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Member: David Macdonald
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About Me:
Alice, a story in nine parts, posted on Sept 24, 2008 - http://www.epinions.com/content_5241348228
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