What Can't Be Hidden

by Brandon Andress

  Sophia stood in somber yet steadfast silence, staring at Ochi. While she knew how painful this moment was for him, she also knew there were some places a person had to journey alone.

  “I’m the one who let my wife bring her brother to this island,” Ochi cried out. “I’m the one who bought into his religious vision for the island. I’m the one who is responsible for Patrida becoming so broken and divided and outraged. I’m the one who abandoned my son by trying to hold Patrida together. I’m the one who became a monster in my daughter’s eyes and who she now wants to avoid. I’m the one who looked my father in the eyes and stabbed him in the heart because I believed he was challenging my authority and the stability of Patrida.”

  Ochi fell to the ground, broken and sobbing.

  “He didn’t deserve to die like that,” he cried. “Not by anyone’s hand, but especially not by the hand of his son. I’m the coward who could not look my mother in her eyes after killing her husband. I locked you away in my shame. Look at me. I still can’t look you in the eyes.”

  The seemingly impenetrable walls Ochi had constructed around his heart for years started to crack. Every secret written in his journal and hidden under his closet floorboards came to the surface with tears. The broken man buried his face in his rough hands, hoping his mother could not see him. But Sophia hobbled over to her son and knelt in front of him, putting her tired arms around his head.

  “I love you, Ochi,” she said. “I always have, and I always will. Listen to me. You have never been too far away for me to abandon you. Even when I was locked away, I was with you. I never once gave into bitterness or wished ill toward you because you are my son. I always held onto the hope that you would come home one day. And look, here you are. You are home, Ochi.”

  With his hands still covering his face, Ochi whispered to his mother.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did to dad. I’m sorry for what I did to you and the pain I put you through all these years. I’m so sorry.”

  “Ochi, you have always been forgiven,” Sophia said. “The day you became my son, you were forgiven. My love for you has never changed. Look me in the eyes.”

  “I can’t,” he cried.

  Sophia hugged him even tighter and pulled him closer.

  “Trust me, Ochi,” she whispered in his ear. “My love for you is greater than your guilt and shame.”

  The old woman removed her arms from around his neck and placed one of her hands underneath his chin. Slowly she raised his head, and their eyes met. Ochi had forgotten the love in his mother’s eyes, but at that moment, he saw it once again, as tears streamed down both of their faces.

  CHAPTER 14

  On the surface, she appeared content and god-fearing. With the sun, she would rise and take pleasure in her routine, always looking forward to the tasks needing to be accomplished throughout the day. She was draped in allegiance, wearing duty like a badge of honor. As a woman of deep devotion, she held religious observance in her right hand while clutching judgment tightly in her left.

  But behind her defenses and within her rigid walls, she neglected the deep wounds of her brokenhearted. She condoned the transgressions of her children. She buried the bones of her prophets. Despite her poverty, she lifted herself high in exaltation. Wisdom had left her. The spirit had abandoned her. All that remained was her lust for power and control.

  Patrida radiated virtue from the outside but was diseased from within. On her hardened outer edges, the Patridian guard fortified her perimeter to protect her disorder. Patrida’s one-way street amassed the dutiful who walked in an unquestioning blind allegiance. Her malignant heart was beset around a hardwood table in a tiny, square room with dark curtains drawn in a guard-protected house along the Monon.

  “My mother said you wanted a word with me, Father,” Tyran said as he closed the front door and joined the shadows surrounding the religious leader’s unadorned table.

  “Yes, yes. God bless your strong, god-fearing mother, Tyran. Please, have a seat. May I offer you something to drink?” Father Prodido asked, pouring a chalice of crimson wine for himself.

  “I think I’m good for now, Father,” Tyran replied. “Thank you.”

  “Yes, very well then. Have I ever told you the story of the great tower, Tyran?” Father Prodido asked.

  “I don’t believe so,” Tyran replied. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one before.”

  “Ah, well then. Let me tell you,” said Father Prodido. “There was once a community composed of exceptional visionaries. The kind of people who could truly see possibilities when others were quite content with what was directly in front of them, when others were simply satisfied with the status quo.

  By day these visionaries would gather together and discuss the possibility of constructing a massive, prominent tower at the city’s center. It was a bold vision. But they believed this edifice would serve as a testament to their greatness. They believed they could bring the common man and woman together to realize something beyond themselves.”

  “I definitely haven’t heard this story before,” said Tyran, believing the religious leader had finished the tale. “It’s very inspirational, Father. It reminds me…”

  “But by night, at the genesis of construction,” Father Prodido interrupted, his face appearing more ominous in the dimness of the room, “a single man began to saturate one corner of the edifice’s foundation with water. It was not much at first. In fact, in the beginning, it was hardly noticeable. During construction, the visionaries sat at a distance to oversee the work, but they were too far away to discern a problem. Meanwhile, the common man and woman, who were all basic laborers, never detected an issue because they only did what they were told to do.”

  “There’s no way a soft foundation could support the increasing weight,” Tyran said. “And if no one notices there’s a problem, the building will eventually fall.”

  “Yes, of course. You can see the problem here, Tyran,” Father Prodido said. “But ever so subtly, the saturated ground caused the corner of this growing edifice to slowly sink. Oh, it was only inches at first. But without exacting measurements, not a single person could foresee the inevitable problem. It was slow and gradual.

  Weeks turned into months, and inches turned into feet. From up close, the common man and woman could not see there was no future for the structure in which they poured their blood, sweat, and tears. From a distance, however, the visionaries began to discern the inevitable. By the time they discovered the problem was their foundation, it was too late.”

  Tyran had been tracking and fully understood the dire implication of the story.

  “A single man,” Father Prodido added, “has the ability to thoroughly destroy the uniting work of the common man and woman, Tyran. But even more devastatingly, a single man can decimate the dreams of visionaries. Do you understand what I am saying?”

  Tyran reached forward and poured the blood-red wine into a chalice of his own. After taking a convincing drink and wiping the excess from his mouth with his sleeve, he responded to the religious leader.

  “I do understand,” he said. “Under the cover of night, my father has been patiently pouring water on Patrida’s foundation, weakening it, while we’ve continued to build and toil by day. Over time, our foundation has become soft and unstable. Our structure began to lean over time, but it wasn’t immediately apparent to any of us. We would’ve never suspected anyone, especially my father, would be working against us to weaken our foundation. But here we are. Patrida’s moral foundation is too weak to hold together, and it’s on the verge of collapse.”

  “Yes, yes. You have a keen insight, Tyran,” Father Prodido said. “You see the problem clearly and understand it demands an urgent solution. Ungodliness must never be allowed to go unchecked. It must be exposed for what it is, lest it continues to run rampant among us. A strong and godly leader must equip his people to stand up and face evil when it works to undermine what is holy.”

  Tyran sat straight up
in his chair and leaned in toward the religious leader with a seriousness he usually reserved for their evening gatherings at Sanctuary.

  “I know my future has always been to succeed my father,” Tyran began, “but I believe that future may be now. I believe I can be the strong and godly leader Patrida needs.”

  “That is precisely why I have called for you, Tyran,” Father Prodido said. “While you have been a builder in the past, you have proven to us that you can see the future we all desire for Patrida. Through much prayer over the last few months, followed by a fruitful conversation this morning, your mother and I believe a succession plan is in order immediately. Tyran, it is your time to become the strong and godly leader Patrida so desperately needs, as we are at a dangerous crossroads.”

  “This isn’t at all what you intended from our founding!” Tyran interjected, raising his voice. “As you’ve told me, Patrida has strayed far from what God wanted it to be. Our values have been slowly watered down by my father’s weakness and lack of resolve. Our structure has crumbled and deteriorated under his wavering and unsteady leadership. And I believe you have equipped me for this very moment, Father. I believe it’s now my responsibility to rise up and say, ‘Enough!’ To plant the Patridian flag back in solid ground and restore the values of our founding.”

  Tyran could sense the religious leader’s voracious appetite for more, so he continued to give him everything he desired. Father Prodido leaned forward from across the table. What Tyran fed him could not be consumed fast enough. In the young man, the religious leader had produced everything he had always envisioned for Ochia leader with knowledge and deep conviction, a leader unafraid to stand up against errancy and unrighteousness. In Tyran, Father Prodido saw himself. He had molded and shaped the young man into his own image, even down to the words he spoke and the fervor behind them.

  However, what was hidden in Father Prodido’s demeanor from across the table was his deep concern that his protégé may not fully appreciate the difference between standing up against a problem and acting on it. Tyran certainly had passion and resolve, but his lack of experience could eclipse them both.

  “Yes, yes, Tyran,” Father Prodido responded. “You have indeed been equipped for a time such as this. Patrida’s rebirth into greatness shall surely coincide with your strong and steady hands planting our flag back into this holy ground. But, if you will permit the boldness of my next question. Will you be equipping yourself, not only with the armor of steadfast conviction but also the sword of unsparing judgment?”

  Momentarily considering the question, Tyran finally answered it, but not through a simple yes or no.

  “I failed to share this with you earlier because everything began to spiral out of control so quickly,” Tyran began.

  Father Prodido raised a wiry eyebrow and leaned in over the table with curiosity, placing his elbows on the table and folding his pale hands.

  “My father came to my house immediately after we met the other day. He was upset by Fovos’ ultimatum and as distraught as I’d ever seen him.”

  Father Prodido looked up at his protégé inquisitively.

  “He did, did he?” Father Prodido asked. “And what was the purpose of this visit, if you do not mind me asking?”

  “Well, like I said, he was very emotional,” Tyran said. “He started off by saying that bringing everyone to the island was a huge mistake from the beginning. I’d never heard him say that before. He said this island was our special place and everything about it used to be good, even our relationship with each other. But then he told me his biggest mistake was allowing my mother to invite you to join us.”

  Father Prodido’s eyes narrowed to a disdainful glare. As the religious leader leaned back away from the table and crossed his arms, even the slow creak of his wooden chair seemed to sympathize with his scorn.

  “He said he’d never met you before our arrival,” Tyran continued. “But as he got to know you, he figured out you were quite the sales-man. Everyone was taken by your eloquence and persuasiveness. He said something like, ‘That man could sell religion to the Almighty himself.’”

  The religious leader did not say a single word but continued to speak volumes through his rigid posture. He already anticipated where the conversation was heading but did not know to what end. Father Prodido considered what Ochi’s motives could have been in sharing all of this with Tyran. As he continued to listen, he seethed from within.

  “He said he regretted buying into your vision,” Tyran said. “And then went on to say that he should’ve sent you away in one of the ships on the first day. But you had a way of enamoring him with your grandiose visions for the island. He bought into your idea that a community needed structure and order and a strong, godly leader to lead people into righteousness and holiness.”

  Father Prodido momentarily closed his eyes as if bound and awaiting the unforgiving fall of a dull guillotine blade. He knew Tyran’s next words were going to be Ochi’s passive attempt to inflict severe damage without having the guts to deal with him directly. The religious leader could no longer hear Tyran’s voice speaking, only Ochi’s.

  “But over time,” Ochi said, “I came to realize your religious ideas created a false sense of virtue. The pieces we put into place made us feel holy, made us appear holy, but we were all far from it. On the outside, we looked clean and virtuous, but on the inside, we remained unchanged. This false sense of virtue created division and hierarchies in Patrida and led to our hostility toward each other. This charade is why there has been so much heartache for everyone, including me. You are a charlatan, Prodido, and your religion is the problem.”

  “Alright! That’s enough!” Prodido shouted as he slammed his fists on the table and stood abruptly, knocking over the chalices and spilling the remaining wine. “I’ve heard enough of this foul, malignant talk!”

  The religious leader wanted nothing more at the moment than to actually have Ochi standing in front of him saying those words to his face.

  “I secretly followed Thura one night and overheard her talking to the prisoners,” Ochi’s voice continued through Tyran. “That’s when I concluded that you’re the problem with Patrida. I heard my mother tell Thura a story about a man who sold water in jugs. People kept going back to him every day to get their jugs filled. They thought he was the only one who had access to this hidden freshwater source. But one day, by happenstance, a character named Dipsa discovered the freshwater source and realized they no longer needed the man. That’s when I realized you were the man. Everything we had on this island was more sacred and holy than the stuff you tried to manufacture and sell us. Everything was good on its own, and we already had it, although we didn’t know it at the time.”

  “Enough of this talk! Do you hear me! Enough!” Father Prodido screamed as he tore down his curtains in a violent rage. “What is the point of this!”

  Hesitant to immediately respond to the religious leader and further raise his ire, Tyran paused. His silence, however, caused Father Prodido to instantly turn and face him.

  “Your father’s intent was a simple apology to you, was it not, Tyran?” Father Prodido asked, breathing heavily from the exertion.

  “No, it wasn’t an apology at all,” Tyran said. “He confessed everything to me in order to turn me against you. That was what he was trying to do.”

  “So what exactly did he ask of you, Tyran?” Father Prodido inquired in a slow, deep baritone.

  “He said something about how the madness on the island needed to stop,” Tyran said. “And an execution was the only solution. That is when he asked if I would help him.”

  “Help him do what? Execute me!” Father Prodido raised his voice, laughing hysterically. “Look at this town, Tyran! Look at it! This is my town! This is my vision! This is my creation! He is the problem here! Not me! Everything I have done is to create a community holy and pleasing to God. If Patrida strayed from that vision, it is not because of what we have created. It is because your father has strayed fr
om the faith and turned his back on God, Tyran. Is that not evident? Is he not the real charlatan here! Is he not the fraud! Is he not the heretic! He is the one who damaged our foundation, Tyran! How is this not obvious to any honest person?”

  “That’s the conclusion I came to as well,” Tyran said. “But why did you wait so long in dealing with him? You’ve known his secret for a while, right? And you’ve seen how disengaged he’s been over the last year. Clearly, you could’ve done something sooner. It’s not like you sat from a distance every day and just watched. You were right there with him. I think maybe you waited a little too long.”

  “Waited too long!” Father Prodido shouted as he began to laugh sarcastically. “How do you suppose one removes a leader who still enjoys the favor of more than half the town, Tyran? How do you do it without creating complete chaos? How do you do it without the town turning against you? Let me tell you. You do it slowly. You do it methodically. You stay close to that leader and remain in his good graces. You ingratiate him at every turn while covertly and painstakingly working to undermine him. You wait for the right time to make your move when he is at his weakest. That’s when the people will see it for themselves and come to their own conclusion. And when that glorious time comes, your father will see it as well. He will, at last, realize he is on the outside, and Patrida is against him. Do you understand me, Tyran?”

  The young man knew better than to offer more than he already had.

  “Everything that has been slowly building over the last year is culminating and becoming evident,” Father Prodido continued. “And very soon, everyone in Patrida will know the truth about your father. They will see how weak he has become. They will see their need for a true, god-fearing leader who does not compromise the faith and protects them from the wolves on the other side of the island. They will see that leader is you, Tyran. I, not your father, have been preparing you for this very moment. He was the one who abandoned you, but I am the one now lifting you up.”