The Eye Unseen (17 page)

They escorted me to a thicket that guarded us from the night wind. The snow hadn’t fallen nearly as hard in this area, and the buck lowered himself to the ground once we were safely hidden. I could feel more bodies close in on us, pushing us to the center of the group, where the does came to greet me. Their touch was instantly healing, nurturing, full of warmth.

Several necks stretched over my back, my thighs, the tips of my toes. Their heat enlivened my blood, but I was too weak to move. I reached over to rub the side of one of my new friends and instantly knew her story. 

She showed me her favorite areas to run, and I felt her youth explode like flames through my limbs, could savor the thrill of bolting through tall prairie grass, taste the summer heat through my nostrils, the joy in my eyes similar to that of the friends bounding beside me.

Then shadows rose, subtle at first, tainting her memories like an oncoming storm cloud. The smells hit me, the absence of all things pure, the oily, black ugliness of humans. A house jutted up, then three, then new roads, a school. The woods and fields forever shrinking.

The next doe was older, wiser. Her emotions slid under my hand as smoothly as her coat. From her I gathered her grandmother’s story, and the timeline passed down to her. Through her eyes the grasses were ancient, the land untouched, the herd enormous and healthy. She protected her own. Listened to the howls of night and swift movements in the tall grass and fought to keep her children safe, to protect the future of their species.

I felt the pull of the moon, the wind, the seasons. Drifted from favorite feeding spots to watering holes and hunkered down to rest with the always shrinking numbers of my family. Witnessed my children shredded by semi-trucks, my parents gunned down and hauled off by laughing humans who threw them mercilessly into the backs of pickups. Stampeded through the blades of old corn plants, my every organ pounding with stress, the combine a threat I couldn’t handle.

Less to eat. Tainted water. Algae clogging everything, plastic trash pretending to be food, a thousand acres whittled to an alleyway between housing tracts. The stars faded from being a blazing map in the sky to barely a memory, their beauty hidden by city lights.

The first doe brushed up against me and took me back to her favorite field. We ran together this time, side by side like sisters, crossing back and forth across each other’s paths, teasing, jumping, thrilling at the feel of the earth under our hooves.

Just as we leapt over a rotting log, my new friend turned her head to me and smiled. I recognized the road as we neared; my neighborhood. The closer we came, the faster the weather changed. From late summer to the frigid clasp of winter, we worked our way into my yard. Stared up at my window. At the angel in my room, waving down at us, her inner light falling on the field.

We were gone just as fast as we arrived.

Back in the thicket, back in the cold.

I couldn’t keep my eyes open. They had saved me, after all, but it wasn’t enough. Wrapped in the warmth of the deers’ compassion, all I wanted to do was fall asleep. Give myself to a dream world where I really could run with them. Where my mother was Earth, my family these beasts, my future just as strong as the legs that propelled me into tomorrow.

*  *  *

I woke, swaddled in my pathetic bed, my skin so warm that I could feel the sun beaming onto my back.

But of course, in the coal room, the sky wasn’t visible, and I was back to my original state, hot and thirsty but more lucid.

My water supply wouldn’t stop nattering, calling me to it in a voice that sounded amazingly like Brandy’s. The liquid was hot but a blessing. I dragged a jug to my bed on the floor and almost lost control of my bowels when I tripped over the man lying on my blankets.

In the distance I could hear Tippy barking. Faint but sweet, protecting me.

In the here and now, I could hear myself hollering, the man laughing at my fear.

“Oh, please, stop.” I could feel his presence more than see him. His body gave off a chill, like he was an ice cube in my basement Hell. “It’s not like I’m going to hurt you anymore than your mother already does.”

How did he get into the coal room without me noticing? Wouldn’t there have been a light when the door was opened? Had Mom let him in?

“Who are you?” I finally whispered.

“For that matter, who are you, Lucy?”

I couldn’t answer. My mind took to the situation like a frog being chased by a group of children, jumping so willy-nilly that my thoughts couldn’t sit straight. His question made no sense.

Distraction did another dance when I remembered my birthday suit. Here I was, fresh from the jaunt with my outside friends, my body so devoid of moisture that I was certain I had just bathed in fire, my teeth feeling like they were going to explode out of my shriveled gums like popcorn kernels—that thought a relief when fantasizing about how the blood-flow from that event would coat my throat with liquid, no matter how unpleasant, claw marks ravaging my skin as if rodents had attacked the sage concoction because they had no other fodder in this dank room. My appearance was disturbing, and I was naked to boot.

With an unknown man. In the basement, which might look like a cave but most certainly resembled a frying pan. Naked.

“Have some water, Lucy. It’s okay to drink.”

I couldn’t answer. He handed me a cup, filled to the brim with water, floating chips of ice promising to make it an almost surreal treat.

My manners fell to the wayside. Never mind my birthday suit, the water was more urgent. Once the beverage was in my hand I could no longer control myself and let it slide down my throat with all the daintiness of a rodeo clown. Water rushed from my cup and out the corners of my mouth, leaving clean trails on my otherwise filthy face.

“Wow. You certainly are thirsty.” The man laughed while I continued to relish in the cold water.

No matter how much I drank, I could not get enough.  My throat became a waterfall, my stomach threatening to drive everything back up again.

“Maybe you should give it a rest. Put it down. You can always have more later,” he said. “Here, have a seat.”

Suddenly my mind ping-ponged back to the issue of my nudity. I dropped the cup and tried to cover my special spots with my hands.

“Oh, my, such modesty. And after I’ve been staring at you naked for quite some time now.”

The stranger was certainly no light bulb, and although my eyes had adjusted to the dark a bit, I could not see my clothes.

“Can I please get under the blanket?” My tongue felt encased in glue. The words were difficult to form and clunked out of my mouth like rusted metal from the junkyard.

“Just sit down and don’t worry about it, Lucy. You have a very nice body, but right now you’re way too thin for even my tastes. No one likes a starving girl. Which is why I brought you this!”

The man produced a plate, complete with all my favorites: meatloaf, mashed potatoes with gravy, and two pieces of homemade bread, butter liquefying on top.

“I also brought you an iced tea to go with it,” he said as he tapped his fingers against the comforter.

A slight breeze ruffled the cobwebs in my head, just enough that my thoughts reassembled with astounding clarity. How had I not noticed this food before? The smell permeated everything, made my stomach break out in a Sousa march like the ones my band performed in the Fourth of July parade, practically crippled me with the need to eat. The steam was still rising from its dish, the bread so warm that I saw the butter trickle down the sides and drip off the plate onto my companion’s hand.

With a quick shake of my head, the hint of light that had allowed me to see the meatloaf died and all was dark again. My nostrils picked up the decay that had once been the meat, the image of a rotting cow tainting my thoughts, maggots squirming through its corpse while the birds pecked away at its eyes. Even the bread sent flashes screaming through my head of concentration camps and the sawdust-filled loaves used to keep the workers barely alive.

“No thank you.” This time my words sounded like my own.

Just like that the meal disappeared.

“Well, fine. Be that way.”

My body was exhausted, my hands tired of covering my nipples. I found the edge of my bedding with my toes and managed to slip underneath the top comforter, surprised to find myself alone.

“Who are you?” I asked again.

No one was left to answer.

*  *  *

He came back the next morning, wrapped in sunshine.

“Haven’t you slept enough, little girl?” The man’s head glowed. I couldn’t find the source of light and, after several awkward moments of silence, gave up trying.

“I don’t exactly have much else to do.”

“Ah, but you’re forgetting the obvious. Why did your mom lock you down here?”

If he had tied my mouth shut with jute, I couldn’t have grown quieter.

“I can’t even remember. It has something to do with the swim team.” I closed my eyes, willed myself back to sleep.

“It has nothing to do with the swim team. You know that, Lucy. So, tell me. What possible reason could she have for putting you in the basement?”

“Let’s see…she hates me. God hates me. She wants me to somehow find a way for Him to love me again. Nothing major.” I rolled over, tried to hide my eyes from him.

“And you think she’s crazy?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“Nah. I probably know Joan a lot better than you do. We have a little…history between us.” The man chuckled.

“You know Mom?” I didn’t really have to ask. Obviously she had let him down here with me, so she had to know him. Otherwise how would he have gotten in?

“I’m pretty close to Brandy, too. Although I have to admit I haven’t seen her in a long while. Well, since before you were born. Your mother never mentioned me?”

The stranger produced the glass of water again. I counted six ice cubes, still holding their own, the liquid cold enough that they weren’t even melting.

He sat it in front of me.

Laid two glazed donuts on a white napkin just beside it.

“No. What’s your name again?”

The room got darker. My will power shattered and scattered into the corners like a hundred roaches bolting for cover. I kept my eyes averted from his and pulled a donut to my dry lips.

Bliss.

He rambled on in the background, talking about my family, I presumed, while I donned a pink ball gown and joined in the waltz. Curled around the dance floor, swinging to the music, long white satin gloves pulled all the way over my elbows.

I stumbled back to reality when he shook the glass in front of me, and the ice clanked so loudly I worried it would alert Mother upstairs.

“Please don’t do that,” I whispered between bites. For a second I felt guilty about getting my gloves all sticky but shook off the fantasy as I continued to chew.

“Here I am, telling you how I met your grandmother, and you can’t even pay attention.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m so….hungry.”

My smile was a sad attempt at an apology, but I gave it my best effort.

“When you get back upstairs, don’t forget to tell your mother that I said hi. She’ll know who I am.”

I was confused. He was leaving? Did I want him to?

“But I don’t. You’ve never told me your name. What should I tell her?”

“That your dad stopped by for a visit. I’m your father. Don’t you remember me at all, Lucy?”

Joan

Without Aunt Evelyn guiding my thoughts, I might have totally forgotten you in the basement.

We were having breakfast when the dog went haywire.

She jumped to her tiny feet, turned in circles, barked violently. Checked the back door. Came to me for some sort of reassurance, I suppose, then went back to her post guarding the basement door.

“For goodness sake, can’t you shut that beast up?” Evelyn said.

I had just gotten to my feet when you opened the door. I must admit, I jumped a little in my skin when the handle turned. The three of us stared at it, expectantly, not knowing what was behind it. Certainly not anticipating you.

But there you were. In all your glory. Stark naked, all angles, elbows and kneecaps and shoulder bones threatening to take out the plaster as you leaned heavily against the wall.

For a moment I thought you were dead. How else would you have moved? The coal-room door had a dead bolt. I had installed it. I had even personally moved the tool cabinet directly in front of it, blocking any chance you had of moving the door forward. That thing weighed an absolute ton.

You pulled yourself through the threshold. Stood at the top of the stairs. Your face was hideous, blackened with coal dust, the vapor rub I had smeared on your cheeks causing a skin infection that looked like boils. Rancid, seeping ulcers with blood crusting their every edge.

Tippy must have thought you were a zombie. She sniffed your legs, woofed, backed away. The instinct to curl her lips and snarl at you fought desperately with her confusion at seeing you again. We had all assumed you were pretty close to dead by now.

“Get the Goddamned ax.” My great aunt was standing. Shocked at the sight of you.

You had to drag your right leg with your hands, hooking them behind your knee and pulling it forward to keep your balance. Which was awful to begin with. You leaned so far to the right I didn’t understand how you stayed on your feet at all.

When you finally made it to the middle of the room, where I stood, your hair looked clumped, black, almost like it was full of soil. For an instant I thought you were mad. A lunatic. Your eyes certainly looked like you had given them to the moon.

“How…did you get out?” I asked, backing up, afraid you’d touch me.

Your pause was dramatic. When you tilted your head, I worried that you didn’t understand me, had somehow lost control of the English language. But then your lips, broken and repulsive, curled into a smile.