The young woman awoke in hateful discomfort, the collar of her tee-shirt damp with sweat and the rest of her too hot to stand the blanket. By the light, she knew it was day, though she couldn’t see the wall-clock without her glasses and it was an hour slow anyway. Eventually, she was going to stand on a chair and fix it, but not today. She stood, and the black cat complained and hopped to the ground. The fat cat and the kitten had been curled up at her feet and both yawned as stretched as she made her way over to the computer. It was about 2:30 in the afternoon, Sunday, she reckoned.
Yes, she remembered then. She’d awoken around 11 and gone to take the car out for air in the front left tire, but it hadn’t needed it yet, so she came back in and fell asleep on the couch. There was no bottle on the table which meant that sleep had come on its own, and which also would account for the unpleasant dream. Something about being the Eagles bunk again, at Arrowhead Daycamp, and it was the last day, and there was something happening, and she’d been talking to Uncle Howie and Aunt Ellen about something...at any rate, it wasn’t like the normal dreams that she lived when sleeping under the influence. In those dreams, everything was ok again.
Still wearing the black jeans and black tee-shirt which declared “In my world you don’t exist.”, the young woman lay down on the couch again, kicking away the blanket. She felt dirty and no wonder, because she hadn’t showered since Friday morning before work. She should shower, she knew, just as she knew she should eat something. Maybe take some money out at the 7-11 and get some pizza or Chinese, or even just wash a few dishes and have some noodles, some meat or something. No, shower first. Rolling over to lie on her stomach facing the back of the couch, a few tears soaked into the pillow, and she curled up into the fetal position so quickly it was like a spasm.
It was as if she could feel it, feel the hate and distrust her behavior had spawned again. A shower, and things would feel better, right? Yeah, a nice, hot shower, no, better than that. A magical shower, a ritual. That thought was enough to finally get her off the couch, and she grabbed her blue lighter and a large green jar candle she’d gotten at Wal-Mart. It was called ‘Rainforest’ and smelled like sweet melon, so she forgave the fact it wasn’t blue.
Shooing the cats out of the bathroom, she closed the door and lit the candle, placing it in the sink where it couldn’t catch anything else on fire. Then, she turned off the light, which sparked a memory: “Do you know what’s the worst? Taking a shower in the dark because you’re afraid of something you can’t name. What’s worse than that, is crying in the shower.” The young woman undressed and threw the clothes in the corner, because she knew that when the laundry pile was large enough, she’d have to deal with it. Turning on the tub and fixing the temperature, she drew the beautiful blue curtain and stepped into the shower.
The hot water hit her like a lover and it soaked into her hair and ran down her body. She put a hand back through her hair, breathing deeply. It was dark in the little area of the shower, but the candle was visible through the curtain like a fuzzy glowing beacon. Dark, small, warm. It was comforting. She faced the spray, thinking of a shampoo commercial she once saw with a woman washing under a tropical waterfall. In her head, was that anime-song ‘Somnia Memorias’. The young woman didn’t know what it was from, but she had downloaded it at some point, and it seemed appropriate now.
Then, she sat down, forcing herself not to remember the ‘my ass dams a bathtub’ routine, not remembering it, because she had laughed so hard, and, and so had they. Leaning back, the water hit her rhythmically and everywhere was steam and moisture. Closing her eyes, she mentally drew the pentagram on her forehead and tried to clear her mind of everything except the feeling of the water, smell of the candle, and the song that flowed through her consciousness. It wasn’t easy. Eventually, she got to a level beyond the maddening positive memories that were never to occur again, and the memories of the fight, and the what-if-I’d-done-this-instead scenarios.
Finally, the young woman stood naked and unafraid in the pool at the base of the waterfall. The twilight glen was emerald from the setting sun through the lush tropical leaves and the scent of them was intoxicating. The Lady was dressed simply, and strangely, like a combination of Xena Warrior Princess and the Virgin Mary. She smiled. The young woman fell to her knees as if she was in church. It was the only way she knew.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
“I know, and I forgive you. What you did was wrong, but you’re sorry and so I forgive you.”
“But she doesn’t, and neither does he."
The Lady bent down and lifted the young woman to standing. “It’s not for me to read you the hearts of others. I forgive you, why do you seek more?”
“Because, because I can’t stand it. I always hated saying sorry when I was little because I didn’t like to grovel for forgiveness when I knew I was right. But, but now I know I’m wrong, and I’m saying so, and saying sorry, and they don’t believe me.”
“If you were her, would you forgive you?”
“Yes!”
“Really? You would forgive someone who you loved and cared for, but who only returned that love with jealousy and hatred? Who hurt the one you cared for most? You’d forgive someone who’s mind and heart you couldn’t trust?”
The young woman paused, “Well, no, I guess I wouldn’t.” A tear fell into the clear water at her feet, but it only reminded her of the water-level on Virtua Fighter 4 that night when things were still...and she cried harder.
“You don’t understand things, do you?”
“No. Everything’s fine, and then, then I hurt everyone and it’s a big thing, and then someone points out to me that I only wrecked it myself, and that makes it all worse.”
“So you know that your actions sometimes hurt people?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the first thing you think of, when you think of him?”
“Leather jacket.”
“Be honest.”
“No, really. The first time I ever saw him, he was standing at the door, wearing that jacket, and I remember thinking, ‘Wow, that’s an awesome jacket.’.”
“That was really the first thing you thought? I don’t think it was.”
Silence. “No, the first thing I thought was, ‘Anyone with a jacket like that, well, can’t be all bad.’.”
“Why is that so hard for you to admit?”
The young woman didn’t answer.
The Lady approached her, and put a hand on each shoulder. “I know what Dylan told you, and I know what she said when she was angry, but all of it isn’t true. He didn’t come here to take her from you,” and with a kind glance, She cut off the young woman before she could protest, “because even if you deny it, that’s what the deepest part of you felt, and still feels. He didn’t take her from you, he just took a part of her that you could never share anyway. And, you know that.”
“I, I don’t want to fight him...”
“I know. But you have to know, he’s not Max, and he’s not your little sister. He means you no harm, because he’s had many opportunities to hurt you, and he hasn’t, has he?”
“No. He hasn’t.”
“So, why do you still fight him? Why are you still so jealous of him, if even having him around means that she still cares for you?”
“I, I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do know. On a primitive level, he’s your little sister and you’re still fighting for your mother’s love.” She embraced the young woman. “Your mother didn’t love you, maybe couldn’t, but that never was your fault. Stop living that agonizing past over and over again.”
“But I’m bad...”
“No, you’re not. Would I make a thing to be bad? Would I make you beautiful and strong, and human, and make you bad? Never. You’ve been hurt, yes, hurt a lot, but that was a long time ago, and no one’s hurting you now...”
“Stop it! Stop saying that!”
“Saying what?”
“Saying it like that. I’m not a victim.”
“What did you say?”
“I said, I’m not a victim.”
“Say it again.”
“I’m not a victim!”
And She ended the embrace and stepped back. “No, you’re not a victim. You remember all these hurts and all that pain because you feel cheated, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Because you think that someday, someone will come along and give you the love you deserve, the love you never got when you were a child?”
Face red, the young woman couldn’t meet Her eyes. “Yes.”
“Dear child, I’ve always been here, and I’ve always loved you. Forget it all, leave it in the shady past of your personality and build anew. In high school you walked with your head down and your knuckle against the wall, and you never spoke. But now, I see you, walking with your head up and eyes sparkling, and being funny and outspoken.”
“But even if I do, I can’t change all this. I didn’t see all this before, and, and now it’s too late.”
“Too late? Have you ended this lifetime? Have they? Tell me, how is it too late?”
“I, I didn’t realize that she’d care about me even if she was loving him, and that he wasn’t out to get me or try and make me look bad. But now I do know, but it’s not like they’re going to believe me now. How, how could they ever trust me again?” and more tears spilled into the crystal waters at her feet.
“I said before, it is not for me to read their hearts to you. What do you want most for her? For him?”
“For her, happiness. Living and feeling like no one’s looking down on her and judging her to be a failure. Money, her store, lots of kids, his love with no one to trap them. For him, a new car, a really great job with a 401K and stock options, and all. Being proud to be who he is and that her love would make him forget all the people who hurt him. And a GameCube.”
“To play the new Legend of Zelda games, right?” She smiled. “Can you give them any of this?”
“Not most of it.”
"What can you give them?”
“Peace. Freedom from me.”
“There you go again. What if they wanted you around? What would you give them then?”
“I don’t know...she said she didn’t want anything from me.”
“You make people laugh. You cry when struck, you bleed when cut. Can you not give them yourself, your trust, your love and friendship?”
“They don’t want it, not now, anyway. They did before, but I screwed it all up.”
“And now, you make claim to read their hearts? There is more in the one errant thought of a butterfly than exists in all human philosophy. You think in the definite, but nothing is certain.”
“I don’t hate him, and I don’t hate her. He’s, he’s a lot like me, and she’ll love me anyway, but I...” the young woman trailed off.
“Why not tell them that?”
“Tell them what?”
“Tell them how you really feel. That’s what got you into this mess in the first place. You’re scared to tell her how you feel about everything, because you’re afraid she’ll take away her love if she found out how broken you really feel. That’s why you won’t tell her all the things they did to you. You’re scared to tell him how you really feel because you think he’ll laugh at you, and to trust him would mean taking a risk that he would trust you back.”
The young woman looked down again. “Yes.”
“So it’s easier to continue this cycle of misery and hatred rather than forget all that’s happened, tell her once and for all, and then never think of it again? Easier to fight him rather than embrace him as your brother, to trust him as you trust her, and live in the grace of his trust?”
“I never, I never thought about it that way.”
She smiled radiantly. “Of course not. You’re self-obsessed, like all my children are. There’s no harm in that, until you reach the point where you can’t see what your behavior does to others around you. I love you, do you believe me?”
“Yes.”
“She cared for you, do you believe that?”
“Yes,” and she cried again.
“No one hates you anymore, you are perfect, like all my children, perfect and flawed and unique, but you are not bad. Neither is she, and neither is he.”
“So, so what do I do now?”
“Ah. That is for your heart to decide.” And the Lady stepped back into the waterfall, vanishing, as did the tropical glen, and it seemed for a moment to the young woman as though she was lying on her back, on that hill in Valley Forge Park, on that beautiful, peaceful day, just looking up at the blue sky.
Then, she was in the shower again, and everywhere was steam and smell of sweet melon. The young woman stood, washed her hair, showered and shaved, and turned off the water. She stepped out into the dark bathroom, lit by the ‘Rainforest’ candle, then blew it out and opened the door. In ran the black cat to sniff her feet.
In her mind as she got dressed were the Lady’s last words as she faded, “Magic is not a power that changes things that cannot be changed, it is a force that adapts things and the way we see them.”
