What Can't Be Hidden

by Brandon Andress

  “You have got to be kidding me! That’s absurd! What’s wrong with you!” Kaleo shouted as he attempted to stand up, only to be pushed back down by Pali and Machi. “No one would believe such an idiotic accusation! Ochi himself wouldn’t even believe this garbage! Let alone Velos! She would laugh right in your face because she knows it’s not true!”

  Fovos leaned back in his chair, assuming his earlier position, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Would she?” he asked rhetorically, looking up to the ceiling.

  Stepping out from the darkened bedroom in the back, Velos walked toward the table and stared at Kaleo.

  “I would absolutely tell my husband this is your child,” Velos said with an unemotional resolve. “I will do whatever it takes to help bring order to Patrida and make us holy and presentable before God.”

  Perplexed and bewildered by the bizarre situation, Kaleo lost the ability to speak. A single word failed to materialize.

  “Here, let me say it for you ol’ boy,” Fovos mocked. “Velos, how could you do such a thing!”

  The room erupted again in boisterous laughter.

  “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Quiet! Quiet! He doesn’t know, does he?” Fovos manically shouted as he looked around the table at Prodido, Velos, and the brothers. “He doesn’t know, does he? He doesn’t know! He really doesn’t know! Velos is Father Prodido’s sister, you fool!”

  The room exploded.

  “How could you not know that!” Fovos screamed. “I tell you what! Ol’ Fovos is just full of surprises tonight, isn’t he! Father, I believe everyone’s agreed to the terms here. Back to you!”

  Fovos abruptly stood up from his chair and busted out of the house without saying another word. Exiting closely behind him was Velos, whose work, too, was complete. If Fovos had been a sentence in this dramatic episode, Velos was the exclamation mark. And no one felt the impact of it more than Kaleo, who sat nauseated and listless from the figurative punch to his gut.

  “In the morning,” Father Prodido began, “you will send a servant to Ochi requesting a meeting with him. In the request, you will ask that I be present along with my oldest, Pali. Once we gather together, you will step down from your position, a position never formally given to you, and recommend that Pali take over the head guard’s position. You will tell him that, while you are slowly warming to the future vision of Patrida and the part you may play in it one day, you realize you are not the right person for this important position. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” Kaleo whispered, looking down at the table.

  “Excellent,” Father Prodido said. “Lastly, you will need to vacate your house within the next thirty days. Do not draw attention to yourself or make it a big ceremony. You are moving. That is it. If there are questions, you are light on answers. Do you understand this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Perfect. Now, you may be dismissed,” the religious leader said. “And please, make sure you close the door on your way out.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Nestling a ball of hardened pine resin within a bed of wood shavings, Ochi placed the tinder on the ground and began to strike his flint with fatigued resolve. Within minutes, one tiny spark ignited the shavings and set the resin aflame, around which he quickly added the kindling and larger pieces of wood he had collected.

  Weary from waking so early that morning and then trying to determine the best route to reach the other side of the island, Ochi hypnotically watched oranges and reds dance across the embers. The day had been emotionally draining, and his exhaustion had almost entirely overtaken his gnawing hunger. Ochi reached into his leather satchel to grab anything edible, but instead, he pulled out a folded piece of paper. Opening it slowly, for fear of what could be written inside, the man held it in the light of the struggling fire.

  I know what you are doing, Ochi. FP

  Ochi’s heart began to race, and every forest noise was suddenly magnified. In his mind, men hiding in the dark of the woods surrounded and watched him. But as every second grew longer and the soft, sedative glow slowly faded, Ochi closed his weary eyes and immediately fell asleep on a thick bed of pine needles.

  Voices of men began to cry out in the woods, shouting his name. The distant shouts grew louder as the men drew closer, each coming from a different direction as if attempting to surround him. Ochi began to run but felt something holding his legs back. He looked down and saw the dense ground cover transform into weeds attempting to wrap around his ankles. With even more intensity as the men got closer and shouted his name louder, Ochi ripped away from the weeds and began to move freely once again. As he looked over his shoulder, the three men had converged and closed their distance on him. Ochi began to slow down, however, as he heard what they were shouting at him.

  “You have turned away from God, Ochi!” the first man yelled.

  “You have betrayed Patrida, Ochi!” the second man screamed.

  “You have failed your family, Ochi!” the third man shouted.

  The men continued to repeat their accusations over and over. As Ochi turned his head away from them, he noticed he was approaching a dead end. Within a dozen strides, Ochi reached a steep cliff atop a large body of water. He stood gazing at the hundred-foot drop as the men surrounded him. Turning to face them, Ochi firmly stood his ground without fear, despite the men not having faces. Each wore a black gown with a single word embroidered across their chests.

  God.

  Country.

  Family.

  Ochi could feel the loose ground beneath his heels. As the men closed in around him, they lifted their arms with knives in their hands. First, one foot began to slip and then the other. Ochi started to fall, but a hand reached down and grabbed his outstretched and desperate arm. Thura held him. But her grip was only momentary, as the blood on their arms caused his hand to slip.

  “Who is bleeding, Thura? Who is bleeding?” Ochi cried as he began to slip.

  “Ochi! Ochi!” Thura shouted.

  The wind rushed past him violently as he fell, but it felt like slow motion. Why is my daughter calling out my name? he thought. Why does she not call me father? The distance between Ochi and Thura widened as he neared the water’s surface.

  “Ochi!” the voice cried out but was nearly inaudible.

  Opening his eyes, Ochi saw the last wisp of smoke rising from the circulating ash dust. The pounding of his head, likely from inhaling smoke all night, joined the ache of his heart as he sat up and thought about his second bizarre dream. Just then, a voice cried out from the woods, shouting his name.

  “Ochi! Ochi!”

  He realized it had not been Thura shouting his name in the dream.

  “Ochi!” the voice cried out again.

  “Yes. I am here,” he shouted back.

  “There you are,” Sophia said. “Why are you journeying alone?”

  Completely disregarding the question, Ochi jumped up and ran toward the old woman, searching desperately for Thura.

  “Where is she? Where’s Thura?” he pleaded. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine. She’s fine,” Sophia responded in a motherly voice. “Thura is on her own journey. And your prisoner, a fine young man by the name of Odigo, is accompanying her. I thought you might want to know his name.”

  Ochi only heard the first part of what Sophia said because he was so preoccupied with looking past her to find Thura. Despite having told the people of Patrida that his daughter’s life was in danger, he knew no one had harmed her. He asked only in hopes that Thura was standing somewhere nearby. He desperately wanted to make things right with her.

  But the truth was that Ochi had no idea what he was doing. He left Patrida on a whim without any idea where he was going or what he would do when he first saw Thura. He did not even know what his ultimate goal was for returning to Patrida with her. Despite the unknowns surrounding him, the question that genuinely demanded an answer from him at the moment was Sophia’s. Why was Ochi traveling alone? It was that one question, however, he
was least prepared to answer.

  Still searching in vain for Thura among the maze of pines, but mostly trying to avoid facing the old woman, Ochi barked out at her.

  “So what do you want?” he asked. “Why are you here?”

  “Why do you keep asking the wrong questions?” Sophia responded with a sly grin on her face.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ochi countered as he turned and faced her, careful to avoid eye contact.

  Sophia’s question caught him off guard. While Ochi was preoccupied with concrete and practical matters, Sophia’s question demanded he stop to reflect.

  “Why are you journeying alone, Ochi?” Sophia patiently asked again.

  The question connected this time. Ochi turned away, and continued looking aimlessly at the ground as if trying to find something that was not there. Content with letting him search, Sophia stood calmly and allowed the silence to persist.

  “I need to get my daughter back,” Ochi responded, attempting to break the uncomfortable stillness but refusing to go any deeper.

  Sophia did not respond to him. In her well-earned wisdom sitting alone in silence all those years in Patrida, Sophia understood there was only one way to truly disrupt someone running in circles. As Ochi turned to walk back and join the old woman and her prolonged silence, he realized she was no longer with him.

  “Hey! Where’d you go? I was about to answer your question,” Ochi called out.

  In reality, Ochi was neither interested in conversing with Sophia nor answering her question. He believed she knew how to find Thura, so he wanted to keep her close to him. However, concluding she had really left him, Ochi decided to get moving. He had already wasted enough precious time fooling around with Sophia and her distractions.

  Ochi picked up his leather satchel from the ground, but attempted to leave Sophia’s question behind. The stillness of the woods lingered around him as he took his first steps. Despite how far Ochi had already traveled from Patrida, the forest beckoned him to go deeper.

  The early morning sun painted the sky with soft pinks and purples. Ochi could only catch glimpses of it when there was an opening in front of him. While the trees kept him from seeing the tapestry, his intentional avoidance of Sophia’s question kept him from confronting the truth within himself. As much as he tried to get his mind on other things, her one question persistently followed him.

  Ochi could not think of a time in Patrida when he had ever been asked a question and then left alone to meditate on it. Nearly every inquiry he received was practical in nature and demanded a quick and decisive answer. While wrestling with a more contemplative question was as uncomfortable as the silence for Ochi, he decided he had an entire day of walking ahead of him and little else to consider.

  Why am I journeying alone? he thought.

  Ochi had never been this far out in the woods. His time in Patrida never necessitated it. Additionally, Tyran had always been too young during their trips for them to cover this much ground. Everything in front of him was a new experience.

  After a couple of quick miles on a few different game trails, Ochi stopped momentarily and closed his eyes. The coolness of the morning had already given way to the rising sun. He wiped the sweat from his brow. His discomfort with the stillness was slowly beginning to fade. Ochi willed himself to breathe.

  Twenty years of ceaseless activity and chatter in Patrida had unknowingly conditioned him to become dependent upon constant noise and chaos. He could not remember a time when the sounds of nature only surrounded him, rather than people. That abrupt change was what initially made the silence of the woods so unbearable. By himself, he could not look at anyone else’s problems, only his own. Breaking free from the continuous and nearly addictive stimulation of Patrida slowly enabled him to see and hear. It also forced him to look at himself.

  This newly discovered space in the island’s deep forest helped Ochi recover something the rat race of Patrida had obscured. First, he heard the birds’ melodic chorus and then the scurrying of small critters chasing each other between the trees. Then he took another breath and listened to the gentle susurrating of leaves as the wind made them dance and sway. But there was more to this experience than what Ochi could hear.

  As he looked ahead, he saw the trees opening up like curtains, revealing what had to be, in his estimation, the most majestic view on the island. Patrida suddenly felt more constricted and gray by comparison. The rich and vibrant expanse in front of him exploded with wildflowers, towering trees, and perfectly complementary blues of water and sky. While it was easy to feel big and important, independent and essential in his tiny little town, Ochi became aware of how small he really was. Consumed by the vastness surrounding him, he put down his head and looked at the ground in humility.

  “Why am I journeying alone?” he whispered under his breath, searching for an answer that continued to elude him.

  Left only with the company of his thoughts, Ochi sat down on a nearby rock and closed his eyes. For years he had blocked out voices from his past that had instructed him when he was younger and challenged him as he got older. He had fully insulated himself from perspectives and ideas that could have helped him see the world differently as an adult. But by himself on a rock in the middle of a forest, Ochi was slowly beginning to discover how silence has a way of resurrecting things we try to bury.

  “Look around, Ochi,” he remembered his father saying to him when he was a teenager. “Life is pulsing through the veins of creation. All living things are connected. We are never alone when we remember that.”

  His father’s wise words seemed to come from nowhere but then continued to replay over and over in his mind. He knew down deep that everything was connected and that he was connected to everything around him. However, Ochi’s problem was that all of his relationships were broken and disconnected. Every person in his life had abandoned him. His town. His friends. His wife and children. He felt utterly dejected and frustrated, especially as he thought about Sophia’s question.

  “Why am I journeying alone!” he finally screamed.

  “Now you are asking the right question, Ochi,” the old woman’s voice called out from behind the trees.

  “Have you been following me this entire time?” Ochi asked with agitation.

  “Of course I have been,” Sophia replied as she walked toward him. “Did you think I would let you journey alone?”

  The old woman turned and began walking ahead of Ochi, not allowing him to answer.

  “I had a dream last night,” Ochi called out from behind as he followed after her. “I was being chased through the woods by three cloaked men. Each of them shouted something at me. One of them said I turned my back on God. Another said I betrayed Patrida. And the last one said I abandoned my family. Even though it was a dream, they might be right. Maybe I’m the reason I’m alone.”

  “Do you believe those things about yourself, Ochi?” Sophia asked. “Or, is that what others want you to believe about yourself?”

  “Is there a difference?” Ochi retorted. “Where do my beliefs end and their beliefs begin? And where do their beliefs end and mine begin? For all my good intentions with Patrida, we became something I never intended. It’s like how you can be off by one degree at the beginning of a journey, but then over time, you realize how far you’ve strayed from where you wanted to go. It’s so gradual no one sees it while it’s happening, but then one day, you look up and say, ‘Where are we and how did we get here?’ It doesn’t seem like much at the beginning, but when no one sees you’re off track or challenges it, you end up lost together.”

  Ochi stopped talking but continued to walk beside Sophia. Looking out of the corner of his eye at the old woman, he wondered if she was going to say anything back to him. Sophia hobbled resolutely by his side with her sight set on the line in front of her.

  Looking ahead again and staring at his path, Ochi attempted to walk in their shared silence. However, Sophia’s silence began to slowly pierce him. She had known
all those years ago that Patrida was off track. She had been one of the voices challenging their direction. Yet it was Ochi who had driven them out and killed them.

  His breathing became short and labored. A sharp pain radiated throughout his chest. Ochi suddenly stopped and put his calloused hand over his heart.

  “You saw it from the beginning. You tried to tell us,” he said.

  The old woman paused a few feet in front of him without turning.

  “You could see what we couldn’t see for ourselves,” he said. “You knew our obsession with trying to make Patrida a strict religious community would eventually do the exact opposite. You knew it would kill the spirit of Patrida.”

  “And it did,” Sophia replied, still without turning around.

  Ochi was frozen. Painful memories flooded his mind as he remembered the emotions that consumed him the day he went on his bloody rampage.

  “When you believe you’re doing the right thing for the right reasons,” Ochi confessed, “it makes perfect sense to ignore voices that challenge you. But as the chorus grows louder, you eventually get to the point where you want to silence them and get rid of everyone who opposes you.”

  Sophia stood in silence.

  “I used to call that day the Great Liberation,” Ochi continued, “because I believed that getting rid of you would eventually lead to our freedom. But I can see now it was anything but that. I thought I was fighting for our freedom, but I was enslaving us. I thought I was preserving our righteousness, but I was compromising it. I thought I was creating a spiritual community, but I was killing it.”

  Sophia turned toward Ochi and gradually approached him.

  “So, is the voice in your dream correct when he says you have turned your back on God?” Sophia asked. “It appears you have turned your back on a sick system masquerading in the name of God, Ochi. And with each step forward, are you not choosing to leave it behind and walk into something more life-giving?”

  “You say that, but look at the devastation all around me,” Ochi challenged. “Look at the devastation I’ve caused. I am the center of it. Yeah, I want to find peace. I want it desperately. But I’ve done too much damage. If my relationships are in shambles, what do I have left? You say I’ve left a sick system, but am I not the sick system? Do I not take this sick system with me everywhere I go? What good is this beauty around me when all I do is corrupt it.”