In a dream state, I wandered. I was out in the wasteland far from my home again. Suddenly the woman in black appeared on her own. No snakes beneathe her dress this time. Instead of hissing at me she stood as if she had a regal authority over me. “Leave my family alone,” she commanded.
Half joking and half serious I looked around to see who the hell she thought she was talking to. Seeing no one in the vast wasteland behind me, I cocked my head to the side and approached this woman. Not dressed as a witch now, she looked beautiful, slim, long dark hair, and adorned with jewels. I smiled, “Pardon?”
“You heard me,” she reiterated, “leave my family alone.” She put up a brave front but her body shook when she said you heard me. “You continue to harrass my husband.” She scowled at me looking down from her high heeled shoes.
Part of me wondered how she never sunk into the sand in those things. Part of me didn’t care. I watched her very angry human eyes look at me as if trying to discern if I understood her. I had determined whatever process she was using to send this message, she was either not adept or very unsure of herself in doing so. The insecurity rolled off of her like a fog rolled into the hollers. She was decked out in every jewel that was humanly possible to wear without looking obnoxiously gaudy. She wore her jewelry like a knight wears their armor. I chuckled to myself. Humans and their silly belief that shiny gold pieces make them important. I shook my head when I heard the wind whisper, “The gold is condensed time given by loved ones instead of their actual time.” How silly, I thought to myself.
“I think you misunderstand,” I tried to light-heartedly address her concerns. “To harass means I would have to be able to reach him.” I, in my tattered muslin-like rags, a sari of sorts for a dress. My head was covered in the same muslin-like rags to keep the sun from burning my scalp. My feet were wrapped in muslin rags to keep the sand from burning their soles. I, a desert dweller, looked very much not the regal equivalent, but knew the truth inside.
“You continue to brow beat him,” she sneered. “You of all people have no right to speak to him, about him, or even of his existence.” Her disdain for me was clear. It smelled like a man hell bent on killing another before their final blows. She reeked of psychopathy. Even the perfume she had on could not hide the smell although it had a sickeningly sweet smell like benzene poison.
This stirred a flicker in my mind of days gone. I could smell the fights I was in as a younger woman. I could taste the blood in my mouth. I breathed in deeply and smiled. “Ah, yes, I suppose I should just ignore the verbal agreement I had, where in he would at least let me see my child once a year?” My foot traced the swirl of the sands. I looked to them as they shifted ever so slightly beneathe my feet and I knew this conversation had drawn the attention of certain spirits of the desert. So the desert Fathers are listening, I thought to myself.
“He’s grown!” She shouted down at me. “Go and be a whore somewhere else.” She was obviously annoyed with me.
“That is not my profession, but I have known many a fine person of that profession.” I chuckeled again, this time thinking of my friends that would technically have been called whores in the past. The sands shifted and a voice whispered to me on the wind, “Sekhmet” “Oh aye, I am easily distracted.” I said more as a reminder to myself than the woman in black before me.
“Well pay close attention, stay away or else.” The woman threatened me. She was serious. Her confidence in the means by which she sent the messages were much more sure now. She felt she actually had the authority and power to threaten me. I could see it in her eyes. This elicited a feeling I had not felt in quite sometime.
I smiled and chuckled a bit, “Yeah, or else what?” I knew what she was inferring. I knew where her heart was. I could see the empiness grow darker in her rib cage where her heart alone should be beating as her voice grew stronger. I could see the scars still laying on her heart as it beat with in her chest with fresh wounds upon it. I could feel faint wiffs of memories that were not my own, emotional injuries that led to her using symbols of money and power as totems to ward off bad spirits, to remind herself that she is loved, to surround herself with the things people she valued gave to her as a sort of guard against feeling unworthy of love instead of them giving her their time. A token to show affection instead of true affection, because making her look good reflected well upon themselves, but emotions were much too messy for them to handle.
I could see my heart beat with in my own chest too, more scars than heart at this point. Scar upon scar held it together, like stitches on top of stitches. No emptiness or darkness lay around it anymore. No open wounds upon it anymore. A veteran in the battle known as love. It had had been in more wars in it’s short time than most hearts fight in a lifetime. As I looked at both of our wounded hearts, I knew mine could take much more. “Endure,” the wind whispered. “You endure where others perish,” the wind confirmed it’s message.
“You know what or else means,” she partially confirmed. I really wanted to hear her say it though. I wanted to hear her intentions clear as a bell. “Besides,” she was feeling more at ease,”if you weren’t so difficult he would have let you see him.” She smiled smugly.
She technically said “Oh well,” after but my mind was on difficult. “Oh, difficult yeah? Hmmm no matter how difficult, the devil still deserves her dues.” I was thinking intensely back on how many arguments this situation had caused between him and I. How he said I would be able to see my child. How even his mother agreed I would be able to. I was thinking how niave I was to believe them too.
“You always act like he is so evil,” she started to shout.
“Oh no, I wasn’t refering to your husband.” I smiled. I knew now that the contract was broken for reasons that are not acceptable. No where in the verbal contract did it say except for…ever. The fact that no one felt compelled to even tell me my child existed except for my child is by itself a gross violation of trust and power against me and the child. What little verbal contract that was in place was completely disregarded as well. The sands shifted again beneathe my feet the desert Fathers are not pleased I thought to myself.
“I don’t know what he ever saw in you,” she looked down upon me and spat out glibly. “Whatever it was, it is no more. He wants nothing to do with you, so just go away.” She was thouroghly convinced she knew what I wanted or why I was insistent with my belly aching. This made me laugh a small laugh.
“Well at least we agree on one thing, I don’t know what he saw in me either.” I chuckeld a small bit more and continued, “However, that doesn’t absolve him of his agreement with me. Nor does it absolve me of my duty.” I felt generous in giving her that much information. Afterall, she was a third party that came after everything transpired. She had no business in this.
“Duty?” She questioned at first but dismissed it quickly. “Go find love some where else! You can have anyone else. Just find someone that will take you.” She was angry with me. I could see the anger was actually hurt from fear. She wouldn’t have had this fear if her relationship with her husband was solid. The fact that it wasn’t solid was not my fault. More than likely they were already on shaky ground. The good news is this situation will either make them stronger as a couple or finally absolve them both of the burden of carrying one another.
“The only other person I have any interest in what so ever of a romantic sort knows how to reach me if he ever so desires.” I informed her. “He has not reached out either, so I can assume he has no interest, which is his right. This is not about that though.” I was trying to make it clear that this was not in fact what she thought it was about.
“Go tend to your own husband. Go love your own children.” She spat at me. “Go take care of yourself!”
“I am.” I returned. I was resolute in that fact. Just because she didn’t understand HOW didn’t make it any less true.
She looked confused and angered. “Leave my family alone!” She shrieked again, visibly upset this time. Her hands were balled up into fists. Rage was in her eyes. The fresh wound in her heart dripped blood when she yelled at me. Oh so that’s the wound, I thought.
I stood stock still and calm. I knew where I stood. I had seen the multitude of outcomes. I knew where I was in this timeline. I was unhappy with what had transpired, but I was sure of where I stood in relation to the ones that mattered. The wind picked up and unfurled my hair from my head wrap and whispered, “don’t worry, I am here.” You are always there dear, I thought to myself. The sand shifted back and forth beneathe me as if the desert spirits were unsure about what to do if anything.
“You rage against me,” I mused, “but what have I done except speak what I percieve to be the truth?” I continued, “I have even asked to be corrected if I am wrong. I have asked your husband to speak up and correct me if I am wrong.” Then I paused, “but where is he?” The wind whipped as if in agreement. My hair covered my face for a brief moment, but I was used to this. She was not and it served more as a distraction and annoyance to her than anything.
“He doesn’t answer to you,” she practically shouted at me partially out of annoyance at the wind.
“No, no he doesn’t,” I pondered. “We all answer to someone though,” I explained. I was looking at my feet covers and then looked up at her with a slight Kubric smile. I inhaled quickly and released the air. I knew. I knew that she was interferring. I knew that he more than likely had no clue what she was doing. I knew it came from a place of serious insecurities. I also knew that if she interferred too far “the universe”, “God”, “fate,” or “chaos” would take care of it in some completely random way. It had happened many times before in my life. Chaos magic, the butterfly effect, or some other such label is used to describe it by most humans.
I grabbed both of her hands and said, “It will happen to you and me, the flower and the tree.” Then I let go. As I did her skin started to dry, wrinkle, and shrivel up. She was looking at her skin in horror. I looked at my own arms and they did not change. Before long her skin started to flake off in large pieces like a dried husk flying away in the wind. She looked up at me in panic as she watched pieces of herself dry up, die, and fly away in the whipping wind. Before she could completely fall apart, I grabbed both of her hands even though she tried to fight me and said, “But not today.”
She had covered her face with her hands and then when she looked at them again, they were totally normal. She shook. Obviously she didn’t know that I could also see what she went through. I think she thought she was hallucinating. Unfortunately, it was not just good pyeote. It was a warning. She shook it off as some sort of thing she only experienced and regained her confidence.
“What do you plan to do then?” She asked with some fear in her voice although she tried to hide it.
“Me? Oh, I have the rest of my life to figure that out,” I mused. I meant it too. “I mean, perhaps I will go to the one that he does answer to with my complaints.” I shrugged. That wasn’t my plan honestly. In fact, my plan was to try and come right to the person I had a complaint with and work it out. The one “in charge” has a much different plan. I was trying to be a peacemaker though.
“Well it’s not you, so stop bothering us.” She huffed. “You can crawl around on your knees and pray to whatever make believe spirits you dream up, but it won’t make a difference.” She smirked. “No one wants you in their life. No one loves you. No one ever did and no one ever will. He only used you and now you are all used up and thrown away. How does that feel?” She was smiling. “Even your make believe God doesn’t want you.” She thought she was twisting the knife in deeper when in fact, it gave me as much amusement as she seemed to obtain.
I believe in God because I know what kind of creature I really am and …
Someone does not create a child with someone else because they hate them. You do not make children with your enemies. That isn’t how this works. You might select the strongest, the wisest, the most beautiful, the smartest, the quickest, or the one you love the most…but never do you pick someone you do not find desirable in some way. Even if he did it to retain some sort of power over me, then he would have allowed me to know of the child’s existence so he could dangle the hope of me having my child in front of me. No, none of that happened. If anything he most likely kept the child a secret to keep me away so he could quietly nurse his emotional wounds with some sort of connection to the past in private.
“Look,” I tried to reason with her, “I come to take nothing away.” I was trying very hard to remain calm and peaceful.
“Then why do you want a child,” she bellowed. “Why do you want a child with him?” She was clutching her chest as if I had punched her in the heart. The delicate silk fabric she wore flapped in the wind beneathe her hands. The necklace, heavy and gold upon her chest, looked more like a dog chain to me. It looked more like a restriction, not a gift meant to elevate the wearer, but I was aware that was my own perception.
“A child for a child,” I said dryly. “My child was denied my existence in his life and I was denied my child,” and I added, “besides I am easily distracted.” I stood there for so long my legs started to tire so I itched the back of my right leg with my left foot. I tried to explain, “it doesn’t really make up for the child I lost, but it’s a good start. I assume he will not allow me to be the mother of my own son legally now?”
“Of course not,” she retorted. “You the mother of his son?” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You do know who he is right?”
“And yet I am the mother of his son,” I replied “and yes I am aware.” The audacity of reality is so annoying I know. I thought to myself sarcastically. It reminded me of people that could not accept reality for what it was and how quickly that trait usually left them crashing and burning by forty. How many dear friends died of drug overdoses while telling me they could quit “anytime”? I knew how dangerous that self delusion was to anyone that was caught in it. So many snares like this were laid about the world.
The wind whispered, “Stop wasting your time.” It whipped about in a frenzy to dissuade me from further communication. The sand rushed under my feet until I was nearly unstable. The sun was dying in the west. It was time to leave this poor woman to her heartache and fears.
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