Kaleidoscope

by Tracy Campbell

  “I wouldn't do that if I were in your shoes,” he mumbled, his mouth still close to my ear as his hands began moving down my body. They were aiming to crawl beneath my shirt. “I know a lot of powerful people, little girl. Your mother is a beautiful, kind woman...I really don't want anything to happen to her.”

  Terror gripped my heart in solid ice. Did he really know someone who could hurt my mother—and would he really ever go through with something like that?

  The heat left my face as I decided I didn't want to risk finding out. It was one thing for Eric to touch me, to hurt me...but my mother—she was the only family I had.

  “And she'd be so hurt,” he continued, his voice rising and dripping with mock sadness as his cold fingers trailed up my stomach, “to know about our little secret. What would she think of you? Her own daughter, getting heavy under the sheets with her boyfriend! It would be a shame, really.”

  The heat returned to my face, and I tried to squirm away under his touch. His fingers flicked beneath the bottom of my shirt and began traveling upwards. “You're even stupider than I thought if you think she'd ever believe you.” My words shot at him like dart, dripping with venom.

  “That's what I like about you, girl...you're so full of fire.” Eric played his fingers along the underwire of my bra, then squeezed my ribcage on either side sharply. I inhaled, sucking in the pain, and looked away from him.

  “No one, not even your beautiful mother, would take your word over mine. I'm a gentleman. A gentleman with a job and a lot of friends, and I'm the proud owner of the heart of one Allison Lauderdale.”

  “You don't own shit,” I mumbled to him.

  “And you,” he continued, ignoring me and forcing his fingers underneath my bra to cup my breasts in his hand. He pushed into me, and I felt an uncomfortable pressure on my pelvic bone. As I realized what it was, I was no longer just uncomfortable—I was afraid. Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes.

  “You're the slut who sleeps with Mommy's boyfriend. That's all you'll ever be anyway...a stupid little slut with too much lip and too many clothes on.”

  ***

  I cringed as the memories infiltrated the wall of safety that I'd built around my brain. I couldn't remember exactly what happened next, but I was pretty sure I knew how it ended. I felt defeated then, and I felt defeated thinking about it now. I'd fought back against his advances for a long time, but Eric had made it clear, as he became more violent—especially when he'd been drinking in the evenings—that it would be in my best interest to shut up and keep his atrocities to myself. It was much easier to let it tear me apart from the inside out until there was nothing left of him or the experience...not even a memory.

  It wasn't just easier for me; it was for Mom, too.

  “After a while, I started to believe what he told me,” I heard myself explaining through heavy gasps. How long had I been talking? “I didn't think anyone would believe me, and I thought people might say I had brought it on myself. It would have torn Mom apart...I...”

  Once again I was overcome by powerful sobs, and I became aware of how tightly Austin gripped me against his body. It almost hurt, but I was afraid to tell him because I didn't want him to stop.

  When I finally pulled myself together, I glanced at Austin through tear-stained eyes. He seemed to be at a loss for words.

  “I think it would still tear her apart. I don't know what to do.”

  Austin's face resonated with such sadness that I felt sure I'd soon see tears in his own eyes. They glistened like orbs of green crystal, gripped with sorrow in the most depressing way. He sighed, giving a long pause before he was able to find words for me again.

  “You have to talk to your mom about this. You know you have to.”

  The butterflies in my stomach turned to ants—fire ants, marching in my belly and making me sick.

  “I...I know,” I replied. “But I'm scared.”

  “I know,” Austin whispered. His lips grazed my forehead in an affectionate kiss. “What about your therapist? Can...is this the kind of thing she helps with? Is that a thing?”

  I chuckled bitterly. I had almost completely forgotten about what happened yesterday. “Well...I told you I kind of blew up at her. I don't really know if that's an option.”

  I kicked myself for ending my last conversation with Ms. Orowitz on such a bitter note. As irritating as she was, I had to admit that if I had someone to help mediate this confrontation with my mother, it would make things so much easier. I doubted Mom knew anything about what had happened all those years ago, and to what extent. The guilt would crush her in a way that might cripple her.

  How can I bring myself to do that to her?

  In a moment of clarity, I was completely present as I analyzed my situation. I looked at Austin as though I had just realized how awkward he must feel in such a situation. Embarrassment colored my cheeks, and I sat up straight.

  “Austin, I'm so, so sorry to bring you into all of this,” I stammered hastily. “This is the first time I come to your house, and then this happens--”

  “Jade...”

  “And we haven't even known each other that long. You must think I'm a complete nutcase.” I turned my head in shame as a new wave of tears edged into my eyes. Where did all these emotions come from? A sudden urge to bolt from the room consumed me—I didn't want to risk hurting anyone anymore.

  “Jade. You look like a frightened deer.” Austin's reassuring hand on my shoulder brought me back towards him, holding me in place. He scooted gently towards me so he could look at me and lowered his voice.

  “You should never, ever apologize for something like that. This isn't your fault at all...how could you think that?”

  “I'm sorry,” I mumbled.

  “I'm serious.” Austin's tone became almost scolding. Then he relented, looking defeated. “I'm the one who should be sorry...for some reason, I feel really responsible for all of this. If I'm the reason that--”

  “You aren't,” I interrupted. I knew what he must be thinking; the heat of the moment earlier was a likely trigger for this incident. “No one has ever been for me like this like you have. And for that, I can't possibly thank you enough.”

  It may have been true that it would have taken much longer for me to recover this revolting piece of my past without Austin, but it was only a matter of time before things came back to me. If he hadn't been there, I didn't know how my fragile psyche might have reacted.

  Austin's face softened into an appreciative smile. The sadness lifted from his face, and he looked much more like the vibrant person I had become so familiar with. I smiled faintly, and his smile broke into a grin.

  I knew what needed to happen next. I straightened my back, feeling overcome with the strength of his ever-present optimism. Closing my eyes, I mustered every ounce of courage I had left and gently kissed Austin one more time.

  Instead of being weakened by my understanding of my memory, I would be lifted by it. Eric had already ruined years of my life and given my mother untold heartache. He deserved much worse than he'd ever gotten, and he wasn't worthy of having a power of my life any more. Plus, if there was no room in my mind for anything but fear and hatred towards this man...how would it ever have room for something greater? For love?

  I lingered on his lips, not wanting to leave but knowing that it was something I had to do. The ever-present shadow of my doubts loomed in the distance, ready to swoop in at any moment to overtake my mind and carry me far away from this world.

  I kept her at bay—I didn't want to disappear anymore. I wanted to be part of the universe, of this universe. I wanted to be a part of the universe where love existed, where I had a chance to finally belong.

  “I have to go talk to my mom. I have to talk to Ms. Orowitz. I have to figure out how to do this, the right way. Not by disappearing and pretending none of this is real.”

  “Do you need me to come with you?” Austin dangled his legs over the bed and leaned his elbows on his knees as I got up. I stroke
d his hair as I stepped away, admiring how soft it really was. It drove away some of the fear that paralyzed my limbs.

  As much as I wanted to continue leaning on him for support, I shook my head. He'd done enough for me as it were, and even a knight in the most shining armor couldn't fight this battle for me.

  “I think...I think I've got it this time,” I said. There was hesitation in my voice, but I did my best to be bold. I fetched my coat from the futon and pushed my arms through it, then stood in front of Austin between his knees. I grasped both of his hands in mine. They were warm and pulsing with the electricity that made me feel so alive with him. “And I promise you one hundred percent, I will NOT leave you behind. I'll call you as soon as I have a plan. Okay?”

  Austin nodded...slowly at first, as if he was deciding if he should believe me. Then he nodded.

  “Okay.”

  I backed away, unwilling to relinquish my hands from his soothing grip. I turned towards the door, reaching towards it with one hand while the other clung lightly to Austin's fingertips, desperate to hold on as long as possible. Finally, they slipped away, and I headed out, closing his door behind me to solidify my decision to leave.

  After finally climbing the stairs out of the basement and into the silent living room of his house, I held on to that feeling in my mind until the heat from his touch evaporated into the thin, cold air outside. I made my way slowly to the bus stop as terror gripped the back of my mind. But I knew that it was time to face this demon.

  ***

  November 19

  Today, I remembered it all.

  There's nothing more than that to say here unless I wanted to write an entire novel, so I'll just say that I'm sitting here at the bus stop by Austin's house, waiting to go home. I've been lost for so long, trying to figure out where things started getting mixed up and why I haven't been able to remember things, and now the pieces are finally falling together. I just wonder if I'm strong enough to handle it this time. Is it possible to forget everything not once, but twice? I don't know.

  I also wonder if Austin is going to stick by me through this. I could never blame him for deciding not to—in fact, I'd be downright surprised if he went along with this bag of crazy. I keep thinking about our paintings...I still haven't seen them up on the wall. I wonder if I'll get to see them side by side, sitting so well together...I wonder if Austin will be standing there right with me looking at them. I really hope so. I've never felt like this about anyone in my life...and I can't imagine what I would have done without him today.

  The bus ground to a halt in front of me, shrouding the street behind it in a lump of exhaust and steam in the frigid air. I could barely feel my fingers at all, and as a result my writing looked suitably awful on the large lines that present in my small, black book. I rose, climbed onto the half-full bus, finding a seat near the back, and continued writing.

  I have to talk to Mom about all this...first I have to tell her what happened with Ms. Orowitz. I almost forgot about that note she left me this morning, but I know she won't let it go. And I know I have to apologize to Ms. Orowitz, because I'm not going to be able to do this by myself. I hate having to act like a grown-up sometimes...this is just so much to take in all at once. I feel like my mind is going to implode and that the blast will be enough to make a black hole into its own universe.

  And Mom...how is she going to handle it? How am I going to handle talking to her, even if Ms. Orowitz somehow agrees to sit with me and help me out? What am I going to say? All the words I can think of for her right now are just angry...angry and sad. How could Mom not know what was happening? How could she just decide to have these strange, disgusting men LIVE in our house with us, just because she's been inconsolably lonely and looking for a mate since my father left her? Or us, I guess. She's the only family I have...she's supposed to protect me.

  I paused for a moment to wipe at the hot tears welling in the corners of my eyes as they threatened to escape. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath—I'd just gotten it together, and I wasn't about to stop now. I only had one more stop to go, and I still had so much I needed to think about.

  Deep inside, I know I shouldn't be angry. I can't be angry, not at her. I should have said something when I had the chance...if I should be mad at someone, it's only myself. It would figure that forgiveness is way harder to do for yourself than for other people. I hope Mom is able to forgive herself, too. Thinking of how this is going to hurt her breaks my heart so much and holds me back more than anything else from moving past this.

  This time, I couldn't stop the tears from descending down my cheeks. I held the corner of my coat sleeve to my eyes, burying my head towards the cold, frosty window. I knew no one would care if I cried, or even if I existed on this bus, but I still didn't want to face the prospect of even one curious face coming up to ask me if I was alright. I stowed the journal away in my back pocket.

  I sighed as the bus finally came to my stop just a quarter mile away from my house, I and shuffled down its steps onto the empty sidewalk. I strode home slowly with my head bent down. Today, I would be a zombie too, just like the ones I left behind on the midday bus ride.

  I was exhausted and completely numb—not just my fingertips, but everything inside of me felt like cold. I teetered between having too many emotions and hiding in the wasteland devoid of emotions that I was used to. Even that felt different, though. A wall of intentional numbness used as a shield against the world felt nothing like the emotional coma brought on from feeling too much at one time.

  In the past 24 hours, I'd felt more anger than I could ever remember, experienced more love and passion than I knew was possible, and cried more tears than I'd believed my body was capable of.

  I ambled along, lost in my thoughts. My feet anchored to the ground like lead blocks as my house veered into sight, just around a small curve in the familiar road. Mom's car wasn't in the driveway yet, meaning she was still at work, but this did very little to stifle the feeling of impending doom that loomed with each step closer to the front door.

  Finally, I stood just outside on the small concrete patio at the front of the door, sheltered by the small awning that had always been there. The sight of home should be comforting to me by now, but it was still so new—at least it was to me, since the memories I'd cultivated within it were still just bits and pieces of a broken picture. They'll come in time...I know they will.

  I fumbled for my keys in the front pocket of my coat, then jammed them forcefully into the door. I pushed the door open, and it creaked gently as I stepped inside and veered towards the dining room, where I would sit and wait for Mom to come home.

  For years, my only way of coping had been to live inside my head and forget the world around me, but I didn't want it anymore. I wanted to be free from the confines of my mind. I wanted to be strong, and I wanted to find new ways to be okay. I would be okay, right?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  December 30

  I dreamed last night that I was walking through a beautiful field in a valley surrounded by mountains, dappled with dandelions and all sorts of trees. As I stood on a small hill, overlooking the meadow-like scenery shining in the golden sun of the late afternoon, I couldn't help but feel the urge to run. So I tried, but I found that behind me, my arms and ankles were entangled in vines and weeds.

  I trudged along for a while, hoping maybe I could break them with sheer physical force, but it was useless. I was just about to give up, when a beautiful blue monarch butterfly fluttered before me, the remnants of a time that seems so long behind me. I watched its glittering wings as it landed on my shoulder like a guardian angel. I put my finger to it, and it crawled onto my hand for a minute before flying into the sun...it was a free spirit.

  I wanted to be a free spirit, too...I tore away from the vines behind me, and my bare feet flew across the golden grass with a speed and agility that I know I don't have in real life. But I was free. I laughed and looked behind me to see a pair of beautiful green eyes la
ughing right back at me—Austin's eyes. Then I woke up.

  Did you know (still don't know why I'm talking to a book here) that a group of butterflies can be called a kaleidoscope? I'm guessing that it's because their wings all fluttering together look like shards of glass and light. Fractals of living beauty all fly together with a purpose and a destination. The group looks chaotic, but it's designed just as intended.

  I took a moment to stretch the muscles in my hand, glancing out past Phillip the gnome in the windowsill to look at the blankets of snow that continued to accumulate in large, heavy flakes across the scenery. Leftover Christmas lights from some of the neighboring houses danced through the falling snow this evening in a variety of colors. It was peaceful and serene, and though there were no tigers lurking faithfully in this blizzard, I felt calm. Calmer than I had in a very long time.

  This is going to be a long journal entry, but that's okay because I got my own journal for Christmas—it doesn't agitate me with its stupid size, and it's big enough that it'll take me a while to fill. Plus, I figured I'd used enough of Ms. Orowitz's materials as it was. I apologized to her sometime after Thanksgiving—wouldn't you know, she was forgiving and just as psychic as ever, anticipating I would see the error of my ways and talk to her.

  I kept seeing her for a couple more sessions, but now that the puzzle pieces are falling into place and we know the real reason why I started having memory problems, she's referred me to a sexual trauma specialist to help me move past everything.

  I made a painting for her for Christmas that she hung right above that insufferable armchair. I couldn't help myself...I painted a field mouse for her in a bush of red berries. She doesn't have to get the irony, but I bet other people will! I made a painting for Mom, too. She's doing therapy now too, just to cope for a while.