What Can't Be Hidden

by Brandon Andress

  Shadows of uncertainty covered Ochi like the leaves and branches towering above. The anxiety he left in Patrida had already caught up with him and rushed ahead into his future. As panic strengthened its grip around Ochi’s neck, he heard a rustling movement from the vicinity of Sophia’s trail. Within seconds, the old woman exited and hobbled over to him with an expectant smile.

  “What did you see?” Sophia asked.

  “What do you mean what did I see?” Ochi asked quizzically.

  “You have been sitting here for fifteen minutes,” Sophia poked. “What have you seen inside this circle?”

  “Was I supposed to be looking for something inside the circle?” Ochi said, laughing.

  “Why do you think I had you draw a circle and sit in it, Ochi?” Sophia asked.

  “I thought it was odd, but it kind of felt like you were giving me a timeout or something,” Ochi said. “But to answer your question, no, I haven’t seen anything at all since I’ve been sitting here. All I’ve done is think about Patrida and how I left it in disarray. I’ve been thinking about Thura and what it’s going to be like when I see her again. I’ve been thinking about what Patrida’s going to be like when we get there. And I’ve been thinking about Tyran and how I desperately need to talk to him. That’s what I have been thinking about, thank you very much.”

  “I did not give you any instruction because I wanted to see where you would go. You immediately went to your regrets and then started worrying about the seeming impossibilities of your future,” Sophia said.

  “Wait one second,” Ochi shot back. “You were the one who asked what my plan was, right? How does a person put together a plan for the future if he doesn’t look at the past? It’s like you set me up to get the result you were looking for!”

  “Be patient and breathe, Ochi. This is for your benefit. I am going to leave again. When I return, I want you to tell me what you see inside this circle. This time I will take my walking stick with me, thank you very much,” Sophia smiled as she leaned over to retrieve it. “Be here, Ochi. Nowhere else. Be here.”

  The old woman disappeared once more, and Ochi sat in silence by himself.

  What do I see? What do I see? Not much to choose from here, he thought. Rocks. Leaves. Sticks. Fruit.

  Turning to look around the other side of the tree, Ochi began to mumble.

  “A bird. More leaves. More fruit. A few more rocks. What are we doing here? What a waste of time.”

  Ochi turned back around and sat silently once again. He looked around the perimeter and shook his head.

  “What did you see, Ochi?” he said out loud in a mocking voice. “Oh, just some rocks and stuff,” he answered himself like a goofy cartoon character.

  “Wonderful. Oh, good job, Ochi. You did it,” his response dripped in sarcasm.

  The brush began to move, indicating Sophia was once again returning.

  “Who are you talking to, Ochi?” the old woman called out. “I am glad you are having so much fun with this little exercise.”

  He did not respond. Without saying another word, Sophia stepped inside the circle and stuck her stick in the ground. Walking around Ochi and the tree, Sophia began to draw yet another circle. This time only five feet around the tree.

  “What are you doing?” Ochi cried out. “Are you not going to ask me what I saw this time?”

  “I know what you saw,” the old woman responded without looking up from her task.

  “I suppose you probably do know,” Ochi said. “It wasn’t that difficult of a task. Rocks. A bird…”

  “I know exactly how you see,” Sophia said, abruptly interrupting him. “So I already know what you saw. How do I know, you ask? You have eyes, but you do not know how to see what is right in front of you, Ochi.”

  The old woman turned without another word and vanished once again into the brush.

  Ochi crossed his legs and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his legs and then his palms on his chin. He stared at the ground and shook his head in disbelief.

  This is what happens when you lock someone away for two decades, Ochi thought. They have all the time in the world to think of everything. So I have eyes, but I don’t know how to see. What does that even mean? Does she think there are things around me I can’t see? Maybe I’m not paying enough attention? Perhaps I’m only seeing the obvious things and missing the smaller things?

  Ochi began to look more deliberately within the smaller circle. Brushing some leaves out of the way, he looked underneath and saw another world at work. Insects moved about with intention and purpose. Broken leaves were decaying and offering themselves as food. Worms broke through the soil and fed upon the leaves, replenishing the soil with essential nutrients. None of this was new to Ochi, but he had not stopped and spent time noticing the small things in years.

  Covering the exposed area back with the leaves he had removed, Ochi turned his attention to his right. About three feet away, he noticed a small anthill with ants racing to and fro.

  “Now that’s a remarkable creature,” Ochi mumbled, hypnotized by the way the small insects worked together with such ease.

  “What have you discovered?” Sophia shouted as she hobbled toward Ochi.

  “So many things this time,” Ochi said. “It’s not like I’ve never seen an anthill before, but I haven’t stopped to look at one in years, probably since Tyran and I made trips to the island when he was a boy.”

  “What did you see?” Sophia pushed.

  Ochi did not immediately answer. His first inclination was to repeat what he had just told her, but he was not falling for that trick again. She was after more than the obvious.

  “Okay. I saw these ants working together,” Ochi started. Sophia stood silently waiting.

  “They were cooperating to get the job done,” Ochi added, hoping to satisfy the old woman. “They can accomplish so much more when they work together.”

  “Very good,” Sophia responded. “Look at it one more time. What do you see?”

  Ochi knew she did not mean for him to stare at the anthill again. She wanted him to see at a deeper level.

  “Each ant is important, but it can only do a little by itself,” Ochi offered. “Together, they can do the seemingly impossible. You clearly want me to see the importance of each person and how essential they are to the flourishing of a community, especially when they work together for the common good.”

  Sophia smiled and walked right in front of Ochi, not once breaking her gaze nor acknowledging that his answer was what she was looking for. The old woman took the stick and put it in the ground again. Walking around the tree, she drew one last circle around Ochi and the tree’s base before walking away into the overgrowth.

  Ochi rubbed his chin and laughed out loud while shaking his head.

  “Looks like it’s me and you, tree,” he said as he leaned back, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “It’s probably going to be a whole lot easier for me to look at you than it will be for me to look at myself. I can tell you that right now.”

  Opening his eyes, Ochi looked down at the circle hugging his crossed legs. He should have known this was precisely what Sophia intended from the beginning. There were lessons all around him. But he had always been too preoccupied with running around the circle than stopping to see what was within. He realized that breaking through the surface of each successive ring would ultimately lead to one place, his heart. He knew if he did not get it right this time, Sophia would draw her next circle on his chest.

  I’m the one who admitted to being the sick system, Ochi thought. I’m the one who said I take it with me everywhere I go. I’ve been so preoccupied with everyone else’s ills and wrongs and misgivings that I built up a wall around my heart. And if I can’t even look behind that wall and change myself, how do I expect anything around me to change? If there’s something toxic behind that wall, does it not flow outwardly into everything else? If there’s pain behind that wall, how could it not be felt by those around me? If my anger a
nd resentment and pride reside behind that wall, they’ve had to affect my relationships with those closest to me? Maybe Patrida isn’t at peace because I’m not at peace. But how can anything penetrate this wall I’ve constructed around my heart?

  “You see it this time. I know you do,” Sophia called out for the last time as she hobbled toward her son.

  “You know, a person can spend so much time on the other side of these circles,” Ochi said, “without ever going inward, without ever having to go deeper. That’s me. I thought I knew what peace was, but I had no idea.”

  “So true, Ochi,” Sophia said. “Peace is not something a person can create or manufacture from the outside. Peace can only exist within you.”

  “That’s what’s so surprising to me, I guess,” Ochi confessed. “I’ve spent so much of my life believing peace was something outward that we needed to strive for as a community, that if we agreed to it, then it must be true. I mean, we lived by the motto Peace through Strength in Patrida, yet not a single one of us knew what peace was. Isn’t that crazy? We believed we were the ones living in peace, yet there you sat for all those years confined behind four, dark walls, and you were the only person in Patrida who had found it.”

  “And it was this peace, Ochi, that allowed me to come back to you,” Sophia said, slowly kneeling next to her son. “Peace is not an ideal for which we strive. When it is an ideal, it is only a word on our lips or an idea existing in our heads. But when peace resides in your heart, it becomes your lived experience. Peace becomes the way you begin to see and relate to the world. That is the key to our relationships. Relationships can only begin to heal when peace resides within each person. And a community will only begin to heal when our relationships are at peace. But for a circle to expand and include others in that peace, it must begin as the smallest of circles around one’s heart.”

  While Sophia talked, Ochi stood up and placed his hand over a scar on the tree he had noticed earlier. Looking deeply within it, as if he was looking at Sophia’s scars, he quietly confessed.

  “I don’t know how you found peace in Patrida,” Ochi said. “You didn’t have anyone.”

  “I can tell you it would have been easier had I been surrounded by those who loved me,” Sophia said. “But even in darkness, Ochi, there is always a little light that can creep in if you allow it. For me, it came through the kindness of a red-headed young girl who visited my cell each day and talked to me. She did not know I was her grandmother, nor did I want her to know that truth. It would have been too much for her. She brought food and talked to me as I ate. She didn’t see me as a criminal or as someone to be detested or pushed aside. She saw me as a human being, and that gave me hope. Even though everyone I loved had died or had been driven far away, something was working below the surface that gave me the nourishment I needed to get through each day. That is what gave me such indescribable peace.”

  “What’s that something that gave you peace?” Ochi asked, his hand still on the scar. “I think that’s what I’ve been chasing after for quite some time. And I don’t know exactly what it is. There was a story I heard the young man tell Thura the night the guards captured him. It was a story about a thirsty person, and I knew he was talking about me. I walked around the corner, and Thura hid behind one of the storage doors. I stood on the other side of it, empty. All I wanted to do was open the door and tell her I knew she was thirsty because I was too. But I didn’t do it. I was too afraid.”

  “Ochi, the water Odigo spoke of in the story is the divine love of God that surrounds us, even as we speak here now,” Sophia said. “This love is always with us. It never leaves us or abandons us. It is always inviting us, no matter where we are, to come and drink. And sometimes, that invitation can come in the most unexpected ways, through the most unexpected means. That is the way divine love works. Its roots run deeply through this ground and give us the nourishment we so desperately need. For me, the hope I received from Thura each day was another root of divine love stretching out to me when I needed it most.”

  “I want peace, especially if that’s what it takes to begin restoring my relationship with my family. Maybe even Patrida. But I’m not sure I am capable of doing this all by myself. I’ve spent so many years of my life unknowingly pushing it away and keeping it at arm’s length. I don’t know if it’s possible to break down the wall I’ve constructed around my heart,” Ochi said in resignation.

  “But you have already begun to tear it down, Ochi,” Sophia contested. “And you are not even aware of it. Tell me what you see. Tell me what you see below the surface. Do you see the roots of divine love reaching out to you?”

  Ochi turned and faced his mother, curious about what she saw that he could not see for himself.

  “Remember what I told you earlier?” she continued. “A relationship can only begin to heal when two people find peace within themselves. Look at our relationship. You began to find peace the day you told me you were sorry for killing your father and for imprisoning me.”

  Hearing those words was difficult for Ochi. He immediately broke his gaze with Sophia and looked at the ground in shame. While he trusted his mother’s sincerity and knew he had experienced at least some level of peace within himself by saying he was sorry, Ochi did not believe he could ever experience the kind of peace she had.

  “For as long as I live and as much as I desire it,” Ochi said. “I don’t think I will ever truly be able to experience the kind of peace you want for me. I carry way too much guilt and shame for what I’ve done, and those feelings don’t give up their space easily, especially for peace. But it’s not just that. Even if I was able to forgive myself and find this peace, there’s not a single person in Patrida who would ever accept it or reciprocate it.”

  “Look around, Ochi,” Sophia challenged with a force and tone he had never heard from her before. “There is not a single tree standing around this one. It has been standing here by itself for a very long time. Do you see the evidence of any other tree standing next to it?”

  Ochi remained silent.

  “Look at those marks you have been touching. Does it not look like this tree was suffering at some point? Maybe it was not getting enough nourishment on its own. Although it may have appeared fine from the outside, it was starving on the inside. Do you understand what I am saying to you?”

  Ochi continued to remain silent, staring only at the scar on the tree.

  “Turn around, Ochi, and look,” Sophia said. “Do you see those trees surrounding this opening? Beneath this ground is a network of roots connecting every one of these trees. They know when another is in distress and in need of nourishment. Even if this tree appears to be all alone, standing proudly all by itself, they know its great need. They are connected to it and ready to help. Yes, you will need to find peace for yourself, Ochi. No one can give it to you. But you desperately need to surround yourself with people who will walk patiently and lovingly beside you until you can stand alone and heal your wounds.”

  CHAPTER 17

  The lifeless body of Kaleo swayed above the gallows in the distance. Left to hang overnight and well into the next day at the request of Father Prodido, the macabre display served as a message to everyone in the town. If anyone attempted to undermine the values of Patrida or sow seeds of dissension, they would face swift and decisive justice. With a small burlap sack covering his head and identity, the non- descript figure was symbolic of Patrida. Every gentle wind moving over the mighty waters and along the Monon blew past a directionless entity. The slow creak of rope and wood was the tension and strain of a body hanging lifelessly in limbo. Bone and tissue remained and gave support and structure, but it had long ago given up the spirit.

  Moving through the late afternoon crowd, Father Prodido instructed Machi to remove Kaleo’s body from the gallows as he reached Tyran’s porch and promptly entered his house. Despite Tyran’s coronation as leader of Patrida the evening prior, Father Prodido carried serious concern about Tyran’s perceived ambivalence in h
is sentencing of Kaleo.

  “Good afternoon, your Excellency,” said Father Prodido. “Would you mind joining me on my afternoon walk?”

  “Good afternoon, Father,” said Tyran, looking wildly disheveled and somewhat preoccupied.

  “A walk, sir?” Father Prodido asked once more. “Just you and me.”

  “Sure. I haven’t been out of the house today. Maybe I do need some fresh air,” said Tyran, as he led the way out of the house and walked toward Sanctuary with Father Prodido following a few feet behind.

  “I awoke this morning and attempted to have some hot tea,” the religious leader said. “But I suppose I let the fire burn too low throughout the night, and I barely had the slightest ember this morning. The water sat on the stovetop and hardly warmed. It took a good thirty minutes to stoke the fire and get the water close to a boil. But at last, I did enjoy a fine cup of tea to start the morning.”

  Continuing to walk ahead of the religious leader along the creek, Tyran did not respond.

  “I could not help but think of you, Tyran, when adding the kindling to the embers,” Father Prodido said.

  Tyran stopped abruptly and faced the religious leader, still not speaking.

  “If I might have a moment of honesty with you, your Excellency,” Father Prodido said. “Without question, you know your mother and I stand behind you as Patrida’s leader. This fact goes without saying. In many ways, you have proven yourself worthy and capable over the years.”

  “But,” Tyran added with an icy stare.