by Kim Petersen
Millie perched awkwardly beside her mother. Her eyes fell to the floor in deliberation before she glanced back up and cleared her throat. “Well … don’t think I’m crazy, okay.” She gave a little nervous laugh and twirled her hair nervously. “I was wondering about our thoughts … you know, people’s thoughts.”
Lilly gave a little nod, encouraging her daughter to go on. She herself had briefly pondered the subject in earlier years.
Millie felt encouraged and continued. “Do you think that the thoughts people have can influence the way their lives turn out? I mean, do our thoughts have some kind of attracting power? They must have some function other than the automatic day to day boring stuff, right? There must be more to humans than that.”
Lilly considered her daughter’s words for a few moments, unsure how to satisfy the profound questions that spilled from her mouth. She was both surprised and impressed with Millie’s depth of thinking. She looked at her thoughtfully, searching for the right words.
“I recall reading a book years and years ago. The book was called The Marriage of Heaven and Hell by William Blake.” She paused, noticing Millie’s eager expression to hear more. “Over the years, I always remembered one comment William Blake made in the book which relates to what you are asking me now, Millie-pie.” She smiled openly. “He said, ‘What is now proved was once only imagined’.”
Millie was silent for a few moments as she absorbed the words of that petite sentence. She started to be aware of a tingling sensation crawling its way through her spine and up around the back of her neck. She immediately understood that the words her mother had just spoken held significant importance.
“That means that everything comes from our imagination first,” she said.
Lilly, warming to the discussion, swiftly remembered another quote she hadn’t thought of in years that might be of some help with Millie’s inquiries. She smiled and her eyes lit up as the memory flooded to her.
“There is something else that comes to mind!” she said. “Albert Einstein said, ‘Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world’.”
Millie felt exhilaration sweeping through her, rushing through every cell, every molecule and every particle that made up her body. She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing the divine power she felt to seep into and through her, revelling in the feeling its influence bestowed on her. For the first time since these visions and experiences began, Millie was grateful for them. She knew she wasn’t going crazy at all. She knew everything was going to be just fine.
She opened her eyes to look at her mother again. “Then thoughts do have great power, just as I suspected. Thank you, Mum.” She leaned in and hugged her, giving her a slight squeeze. “I love you,” she murmured.
“Love you too,” Lilly crooned as she held her daughter for a few moments. Then, as the struggle within her bubbled to the surface again, she pulled away. “Now, you have a big date to get ready for and I have lots of things to do today!” she said.
Millie took her cue and left, leaving Lilly with her ponderings again.
My thoughts have got me this far, Lilly mused. Not exactly where I wanted to be... So, she thought with a speck of a thrill racing through her, where will I have them take me now? She switched to thoughts of the wooden box filled with secrets hidden in her closet. It was a box of truths that were thought to be destroyed a long time ago. They were truths she knew would certainly put her life in jeopardy when they were revealed. Pandora’s Box, she thought with repugnance. What to do with the box? She decided she would bury the box deep under the giant avocado tree in the backyard before she left that night, and leave a letter for Millie to await further instructions in the future. She’s not yet ready for the absolute truth...
When the letter to her daughter was complete, she fished out the key that hung in all its obscurity on the end of a gold chain. She placed the key with her letter in an envelope and sealed it closed with a lick of her tongue, then hid the envelope safely until she was ready to retrieve it later that night when she would leave it for Millie to discover within the pages of her much-loved journal.
***
Ace called out loudly from his bedroom, “Muuummm, I’m ready for bed now!”
Scooping up his favourite worn out teddy bear, Benny Boy, Ace flounced among the bed sheets and blankets of his bed, all set to snuggle down for the night. Placing Benny Boy gently on the pillow beside him, he leaned towards the short tight curls of the bear and planted a small kiss on the tip of his hard black nose. “Good night Benny Boy,” he whispered.
Lilly appeared at his doorway, breezing in with a smile. “Teeth all brushed?” she asked.
“Yep.”
The fine hairs of a critical right eyebrow raised. “Blow,” Lilly instructed, leaning over his face to smell the breath that escaped from his mouth as he exhaled on demand. A warm minty breeze wafted over her senses as his breath trailed around her nostrils. “Very good,” she said.
She sat next to him and waited while he went about arranging his pillows and sheets just the way he liked before settling his head into the soft pillow beneath him. Eyes that reflected her own gazed up at her with a sleepy smile when he was all done. Lilly looked down at her son wistfully, aware that this was to be the last time she would tuck her son into bed and wish him the sweetest of dreams. Lilly gazed upon eyes awash with an innate faith that her presence in his young life was unwavering. She could hardly endure these last moments with him, savouring each one of them and drawing out the bedtime process longer than usual. Wrapping his little body in her arms, she held him close and tight against her bosom. Nuzzling her nose into the tufts of his hair, she breathed deep, filling her nostrils with the unique smell that belonged to him. The faint aroma of floral-scented soap combined with the sweetness of the passionfruit tart dessert invaded her senses. Feelings of nostalgia seared her, settling over the tremor of her body like a heavy cloak, as she swore this moment would be with her forever.
“Listen, it’s important to keep your teeth clean, okay,” she quipped as she began to fuss about tucking him under the blanket. “And be good to your big sister; she loves you lots.”
Ace crinkled his nose up at her.
She leaned closer. “I love you baby boy,” she whispered into his little ear as her eyes moistened.
Ace giggled as his mother’s warm whisper tickled through his ear, activating tiny shivering tingles all the way down his spine. “I’m not a baby, Mum,” he reminded her between giggles.
The ripple of his laugh prompted Lilly to continue murmuring, whispering cherished “sweet nothings” – a special little game she would play with her children at bedtime when they were very young. Ace’s laugh was contagious and Lilly found herself giggling along with him, while relishing the moments of delight she had persuaded from him.
When their laughter had finally subsided, a shadow of sorrow crossed her eyes as they moved longingly over her son’s features for the last time. Shaking the loose blonde tresses of her hair, Lilly gulped back the flood of tears that threatened to spill as she said her final goodbye to her son. “You will always be my baby boy, Ace. Remember that I love you very much.”
She walked over to the door of his bedroom and paused one last time to look upon her content drowsy son. “Sweet dreams,” she choked.
“Good night, Mum. I love you too,” Ace said dreamily with a faint smile on his rosy lips. Then he turned his back towards her, hugging Benny Boy close to his chest, and closed his eyes.
As she shut Ace’s bedroom door behind her, Lilly quietly leaned against the flimsy plywood of the door, fighting the urge to crumble in a heap to the floor. She resisted the intense impulse to scoop her sleeping son up in her arms and bundle him away with her into the night. I can’t! Lilly wrestled with herself, Glen will surely hunt me down!
Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed herself to press on with her plans. Then, with all her might, she steeled herself against the ache in h
er heart and practised the detachment that had been her comforting friend through her ordeal, and sprang into action. There was not much time.
Chapter Seven
M illie walked back to her room with a breeze of elation after her conversation with her mother. She leaped on her bed and laughed. Blowing loose strands of hair away from her mouth, she stilled herself in her doona and examined the peeling cream-coloured paint on the ceiling. Ahh, life is good! she thought, milking the pleasant peacefulness within her. She had wanted to stay in the room with her mother longer, as there were other things she wished to discuss. She was certain now the special bond they had shared would regain its strength over time.
She smiled. “Imagination encircles the world,” she said with wonderment to the ceiling. Those words felt good to her. Really good. “All I need then is my imagination. And so it shall be.” A confirming tingle ran up her spine while she thought about thought. Her smile broadened in the deliciousness of the feelings this trail of thought produced in her. Millie was unable to explain why or how, yet she did not feel the need to. She was learning to trust the tingles that surged through her being on occasion, even though she did not completely understand it. Somehow, she had developed an inner knowing that the impressions she perceived within herself were a key to another dimension. Perhaps a secret to life, she mused. She recognised that there was a higher power she could learn to tap into at will, and that higher power had always been there – A power that is available to anyone willing to open themselves to it.
“Anything is possible!” Millie squealed out loud.
She leaped up and reached for her sketchpad. A surge of inspiration overtook her fingers as she sketched out the image of her mother in her mind’s eye as she saw her a few minutes ago. Feathery strokes captured the soft smile crinkling the corners of her mouth and lighting up the blue hue of her mother’s eyes, and the tumbling locks of gold framing her face as she tilted her head, completely immersed in her daughter’s questions. Millie’s hand flew in a flurry of movement, not ceasing until her portrait was finished and her mother, captured in an expression of fascination, was permanently portrayed upon the page of her art book.
Millie gazed down at her work with astonished pride, amazed with her accomplishment. She had portrayed the beauty of her mother perfectly. Each stroke and shading of her pencil reflected an integrity reserved to the talented few. For Millie, this was a moment she would know forever. For the first time, she felt limitless.
A light tapping at her bedroom window burst into her contemplation. She peered up from her cross-legged position on the floor to spy Emily’s grinning face staring back at her.
“Hey Miss Millie.” Emily lifted a bag up and shook it a little. “Ready for your hot date tonight?” Her grin was wide enough to almost split her face in two.
Millie threw her head back in laughter. She had been looking forward to a girly afternoon with her friend. “Sure am!” she called out.
She dashed out to meet her friend at the front porch. Poking her head around the corner of the house, she watched Emily as she made her way towards her on the front porch.
“Let’s do this,” she grinned.
***
Millie remained as still as she could on the floor with her back facing Emily who was sitting on the bed’s edge while she rolled long dark locks of hair into hot rollers some twenty minutes later.
“So, how will I know if he’s having a good time?” Millie asked with a hint of uncertainty. “What if I bore him?”
“Are you kidding me? Have you seen the way he looks at you? You will not bore him silly Millie!”
“How will I know though?” Millie persisted.
“If he’s having a good time?” Emily smoothed another long strand between fingers while balancing a very hot roller. “Ouch!”
“Hmm,” Millie confirmed, “And be careful please!”
“Well,” Emily began. “If his breath is hot and heavy on your neck and his crotch is bulging, he’s having a good time.”
Millie blushed. “Emily!”
Emily peered back at her without flinching, and placed her hands on Millie’s shoulders. “What? And you’re lucky I wasn’t rolling your hair then.”
“Well, I didn’t mean it like that!” Millie retorted, still blushing.
Emily shrugged, then gently twisted Millie’s head around again so she could continue working on her hair. Millie obliged and both girls fell into an awkward silence.
Minutes passed while Millie mulled over her friend’s words. She didn’t know much about sex, and while the subject intrigued her it was also a topic she found disconcerting. Nobody has ever spoken to me about it, she thought.
Unable to contain her curiosity a second longer, she broke the silence between them. “Em, how do you know all that?”
Emily stalled her answer while intentionally concentrating on the delicate task of twisting the last strands of Millie’s hair into a roller. She picked up a can of hairspray. “Cover your eyes,” she instructed, then pressed an index finger on the nozzle.
The fumes of the hairspray filled the air around them in a mist. Both girls gagged and coughed, waving hands wildly about in front of them in an attempt to escape more consuming vapours.
Millie, moving away from her spot on the floor, was not thrown off her intent, as she suspected Emily had hoped. She stilled herself against the bedroom door, bringing her knees up against her chest and hugged them to her. She watched Emily from across the room as she busied herself tidying up loose rolling pins that had littered the bed. Millie could sense Emily was feeling uncomfortable, but still, she persisted.
“Are you going to answer my question, Em?” she asked.
Emily stopped fussing about for pins and looked at Millie. Her China-blue eyes held Millie’s for a moment before she looked away. A single tear rolled down her cheek, falling where her eyes stared down into her lap. Millie jumped to her feet and rushed to her friend on the bed, enfolding her in her arm.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said, frowning.
“It’s not you, Millie.” Emily’s voice was barely a whisper. “It’s my stepfather.” She leaned against Millie’s chest and embraced her. Her body began to quiver as she wept.
Millie was bewildered at her friend’s sudden outburst. She did not understand why the usual upbeat, playful Emily she knew, was so upset. What does this have to do with her stepfather? she mused. Millie tried to console Emily as best she could.
When Emily’s sobbing subsided, Millie pulled away gradually for a better view of her tear-stained face. “I don’t understand,” she said.
“You’re the closest friend I’ve ever had.” Emily’s voice broke into a sob.
“Me too.” Millie’s frown deepened as she nodded for her friend to continue.
“About a year ago, my mother had to go into hospital for a few nights... ‘women’s problems’ they told us.”
She took the tissue Millie offered to her, paused to blot tears and blow her nose. “One night I was sleeping in my bed, and he came in and laid next to me.” She took a deep breath. “He hushed me when I stirred, telling me he needed a cuddle because he missed my mother so much, and that he was so lonely without her.”
Millie watched Emily struggling with her words. As her story began to unfold, the significance of her friend’s traumatic experiences at the hands her stepfather slowly dawned on her. She took Emily’s fidgeting hands and held them firmly between her own to reassure her.
“I felt uncomfortable right away. I asked him to let me sleep but …” Her eyes skipped to the ceiling in an effort to contain her tears as she relived the past, “but he didn’t go; he didn’t!” Emily cried. Her eyes met Millie’s. “He told me it was my fault for being too pretty. He told me because I was pretty the boys would like me, and it was his job to teach me what the boys wanted so I would be ready for them.” Her tone hastened and grew in pitch. “After he was done, he told me it was our secret because if anyone was to
ever discover what had happened, I would be deemed a sinner and my mother would disown me … and I know he’s right, my mother would hate me for this!” Emily’s tone dropped to barely a whisper. “And he keeps coming, Millie, at least once a month. Sometimes more …” Pausing, she searched Millie’s face for her reaction.
“Oh Em,” Millie shed tears in empathy, “I’m so sorry. What are we going to do?”
She studied her friend while trying to think of a solution. At a loss for words, she hugged Emily close to her again and both girls wept together in each other’s arms. Millie could feel every emotion Emily was experiencing, almost as if she herself was subject to the ugliness of Emily’s stepfather. She could feel the desperate powerlessness engulfing her friend. Her small trembling body reflected her terror, burden and helplessness.
“I’m here for you, Emily,” Millie said, reaching for more tissues. “I’ll always be here for you.”
She blew her nose on the soggy folds of a damp tissue with a loud snort, sparking an explosion of giggles. Their mirth lifted the gloomy air around them, alleviating the weight of the sordid information Emily had shared with her best friend. Both settled back into the bed, hands clutched together, feeling relieved to escape the emotional roller-coaster they had just ridden.
They heard a thud against the bedroom door.
“Millie, can I come in?” Ace called from the other side.
“Yes.”
He threw open the door and paraded into her room ready to report the new close developments he had witnessed earlier between their parents, and the progressive appearance of gifts left under the Christmas tree. He stopped short when he saw the girls laying together on Millie’s bed.
“What are you guys doing?” he said, puzzled.