Awakened

by K. G. Duncan

  On one object in particular she let her fingers linger longer. It was a fist-sized wooden carving of a seated Buddha figure. He was curled into a ball, naked but for a small loin cloth, seated cross-legged and bent over so that his face pressed into his legs. His hands were covering his eyes. Abby caught her breath as she ran her fingers over the smooth wood of his back. It was so powerful!

  She picked it up and held it in her hands. Immediately, feelings of sadness and heart-wrenching grief filled her. She knew in that instance that Dr. Kinsey had lost a child, that her husband, in his own broken state of grief had blamed her and had left her shortly after that. She knew that Dr. Kinsey still held on to a large portion of guilt and self-loathing regarding the death of her baby and the failure to hold on to her husband. This object, a gift from a dear friend, was intended as a token of solace and comfort, but ironically, served primarily as a daily reminder of her own suffering and daily penance.

  The door opened and Dr. Kinsey stepped into the room. Abby quickly put the object down and turned to face Dr. Kinsey, absently wiping away a tear that trickled down her cheek. The doctor glanced down at the carving then quickly back at Abby. There were several awkward moments of silence before they both smiled.

  Abby spoke, quietly reciting a line that filled her head unbidden. “And so the Buddha covers his eyes and weeps for all the suffering and sorrow that fills the world.”

  Abby sighed, and stared intently in the doctor’s eyes. “I’m sorry for your loss, doctor,” she said.

  The doctor, clearly caught off guard, had frozen and placed her right hand over her heart. In her left hand she clutched a small briefcase. She stared back at Abby wordlessly. After several moments, she shook her head, literally snapping out of it, and smiled as she walked around behind her desk.

  “So,” she said carefully, “You are familiar with the writings of the Dhammapada?” The doctor sat down and beckoned Abby over to sit on the other side of her desk. Abby obliged and sat on a very comfortable armchair with red leather, rivet-seamed cushioning.

  “I find great comfort in the teachings of Gautama Buddha,” the doctor continued. “I’m no Buddhist, but I take the wisdom of others wherever I can find it. That was a gift to me from a good friend during a time of great pain in my life. It is my favorite thing in this office.” The doctor paused and smiled genuinely back at Abby. She was in full control of her emotions now. “But you are free to pick it up and hold on to it as much as you want. It is meant to be touched.”

  “Thank you,” Abby replied simply.

  The door opened and Michael came into the room carrying a large tray. Abby watched him gracefully place it down between them. The tray contained two large glasses of sweet tea, a plate of small chocolate squares, and a tape recorder.

  “Thank you, Michael,” the doctor said, smiling up at him. “That will be all.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Michael replied, smiling back. He glanced at Abby, flashed an even wider, dazzling smile, then turned and headed out, back straight, his blue-jeaned legs effortlessly and quietly striding, until he closed the door behind him.

  Abby watched him the entire time, then sighed after he was gone and turned back to the doctor. “Could you have him bring me my breakfast every morning?” She asked hopefully. “Lunch and dinner, too? I do so like the way he walks.”

  “Ha!” The doctor nearly choked on her laugh. “You are a remarkable girl, Miss Rubideaux. But I’m afraid Michael is off limits for now. Wait a few years, please! Ah!” The doctor interrupted herself with the delightful discovery of the tray’s contents. “I also take great comfort and pleasure in dark chocolate! Would you care for some? She slid the plate over toward Abby and also offered her a glass. “Sweet tea? Use the coaster please.”

  She handed the tea to Abby, who placed it on a white ceramic coaster that was decorated with a beautiful red and blue Celtic animal pattern. Abby took a piece of chocolate and watched as Dr. Kinsey picked up the recorder and placed it in front of her. The doctor opened her briefcase and rummaged around briefly before removing a small cassette tape, which she then popped into the recorder with a push of a button and a snap as the lid shut. She picked up her own glass of sweet tea, raised her glass toward Abby and took a sip.

  “Abby,” she began, “I’ve asked you to come here so that we could start having some sessions together. Well, maybe “sessions” is not the best word—more like conversations where I ask a lot of questions. I want to ask you about your experiences, your family, your friends, and school. About all the things that have been happening to you. You don’t have to answer all of my questions, and we can stop at any time if you wish. I like to record our conversations so that I may listen to them later and take notes. No one else will have access to these tapes, for they are solely intended as a record of the clinical proceedings of my duties here as a psychiatric doctor—I would like to ask your consent before we begin. Is that alright with you?”

  Abby, who was chewing on a particularly tasty morsel of dark chocolate, couldn’t help but smile before responding. “Well, doc, that’s a lot of words to ask for my permission to have a talk. This is where you’re gonna do all your psycho-therapizing and start doctoring up my mind—determine whether or not I’m crazy as a loon, right? Sure, you have my permission… and really, you need to have some of this chocolate, too!” Abby and the doctor laughed as they both helped themselves to another piece.

  “That’s fine,” Dr, Kinsey finally said, after groaning in delight over her chocolate and taking one more sip of tea. She cleared her throat and pressed play.

  She spoke over the recorder in a very articulate and precise tone, “This is audio file number one, May 27, 2022. Dr. Joanna Kinsey interviewing Subject number AR10089: Miss Aurora Borealis Rubideaux. Female. Age eleven. Miss Rubideaux, are you aware that this conversation is being recorded?”

  Abby remained silent, just grinning from ear to ear, completely and not-so-secretly entertained by the doctor’s proceedings.

  “Miss Rubideaux?” The doctor asked, smiling herself. “I will need a verbal response from you.”

  “Oh,” Abby jerked herself upright and grinned back at Doctor Kinsey. “Yes, of course. By all means, I mean. Umm, are you gonna do that each and every time we talk together like this?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  “That is so cool!” Abby leaned forward and took another square of chocolate, popped it in her mouth, and sat back still grinning at Doctor Kinsey.

  The doctor was chuckling now, quietly. A laugh that made Abby feel very nice and comfortable because she knew it wasn’t fake or disingenuous.

  “Okay,” Doctor Kinsey continued, “Let’s get started then.” She glanced down at a sheaf of papers she had removed from a manila file.

  “Okay,” Abby said, a sliver of doubt suddenly prickling down her spine. “Where shall we begin?”

  “Well,” the doctor replied, looking up from her papers, “How about with your medical records?” She pulled out what looked like an official document. “You have a very interesting record, or lack of a record, I should say. “I’ve been meaning to talk with you sooner, but it took us a few days to compile any record of your life at all, actually. I wanted to ask you about your family, or the folks who claim to be your family. And maybe a few questions about your medical history and your school life. Is that okay?”

  Now, as Abby sat there listening to the doctor, she realized in an instant that many of the things in her life were far from being normal—that she hadn’t had any of the things that most kids had in terms of official papers and documents. That from the outside looking in, her life was a fraudulent and illegal web of lies. She had never been to a doctor. Never got any shots or vaccinations like all the other kids were required to. She had never been sick, so she didn’t need any of those things. She had never been given a birth certificate from a real hospital—her birth mother had simply given her to Momm
a Bea before she went away, or just disappeared actually, from this world, anyway. She also knew, in that same moment, that none of the people who were making these inquiries, especially Doctor Joanna Kinsey, would hold her, an 11-year old girl, responsible for any of it. In fact, they would feel pity and remorse for a girl who had been crushed, rolled, and then reshaped by the tragic rolling pin of life. On top of that, she knew in that precise moment that Momma Bea and Henry were in a heap of trouble, for the world of human society would need an explanation, and the only explanation that made sense was that a couple of Cajun swamp rats were guilty of fraud, criminal negligence, reckless child endangerment and what, to all reasonable god-fearing people of the good state of Louisiana, appeared to be nothing short of the kidnapping of some other person’s unfortunate baby.

  She knew this and several other things all at once—that the dragon inside of her, who now guided and informed her with instant downloads—would be unbelievable and inconceivable unless she manifested it as proof of her claims. That the only way out of this pickle was for her to be absolutely truthful, sincere, and above all, patient.

  You could just fly away, little sister. Iron bars cannot hold you.

  The Voice inside of her plied gently. But Abby knew that she was at the beginning of a very important junction in her life. There was no more time to live her life anonymously and separately in the trees and the swamps of the bayou, as tempting as that was. It was time for her to introduce herself to the rest of humanity.

  Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Now, who is the wise one?

  She must be wise and discerning in the manner in which she proceeded. And her first order of business was to win Doctor Kinsey over. If she was ever going to be believed—and not doped up for the rest of her obviously crazy life like half the other patients in this facility—if Momma Bea were ever to avoid being placed in prison, or if friends like Olivia were to remain unharmed and above reproach in the nefarious dealings of a mad girl who claimed to be a dragon—then Doctor Kinsey was the key. She was Abby’s main ally—the key figure in every wrinkle of the Fold that twisted and unfurled into the myriad of probabilities that would be the future.

  Well, nothing like the present moment!

  “Yes,” Abby answered in what was only a beat after the doctor’s question. “Of course. I want to tell you everything that I know. Fire away, doctor.”

  Doctor Kinsey regarded Abby for several moments. She spoke, at length, assuming the same clinical and precise tone as before.

  “Very fine. Let’ get to it, then. First things first.” Kinsey paused before continuing. “And I feel I need to tell you that you might find some of these things very…distressing. Not everything about which I will ask you may have an explanation—at least not one you may be aware of. But I must ask you for the record despite my own misgivings.”

  “Well, shoot then!” Abby interrupted playfully. “You might find it more expeditious to be frank and terse in your line of questioning. No lengthy preambles or apologies are necessary.” Abby found herself imitating the doctor’s clinical tone and giggled despite herself.

  “I see,” Dr. Kinsey regarded Abby for a few moments, took a sip of her sweet tea, then proceeded. “We’ve been to your home and have interviewed your parents, or guardians—I guess that’s a better term. We asked them to provide us with your birth record and all medical documents. The man,” and here the doctor checked her notes, “Henry Thierrey, was uncooperative and dismissive. Your mother, Beatriz Roy, was quite cooperative and provided us with your birth certificate. Unfortunately, the birth certificate proved to be a forgery. She was unable to present any medical records.”

  “Momma Bea don’t believe in no doctors,” Abby interjected. “And old Henry,” Abby pronounced it the French way, “wouldn’t agree to pay for those things anyway.”

  Doctor Kinsey continued, ignoring Abby’s interruption. “We have also talked to the folks at your school, on the other hand, and they were in possession of several vaccination records, all of which proved to be fake documents, poorly forged, and easily discoverable as such upon further inquiry.”

  “Well,” Abby said, “You’d think that a state institution, like a public school would be more careful about these kinds of things. I can’t speak for them, but the other part is pretty simple. Like I told you, Momma Bea don’t like them doctors. She don’t like the government either, and has no reason to start liking them now. She obtained those documents in order for me to go to school. They wouldn’t let me in otherwise.”

  “Okay,” Dr. Kinsey said, “But do you know how she obtained those documents or if she made them herself?”

  “You asking me as my doctor, or are you working for the police?” Abby asked, matter-of-factly.

  “A.B., I assure you,” the doctor began, slightly taken aback. “Everything we talk about in here is protected by doctor-patient privilege—it is protected and confidential. I do not work for the police. But your mother could be in serious trouble, and you may be the only one right now who can help her. I am only trying to understand how we got here. I want to advise you and help you, above all else.”

  Abby snorted, “C’mon now, I was only jibing. Pulling on your skirts just a bit. Okay, let me give it to you straight. I don’t really know who, how, or where she got them documents from. It never occurred to me to ask. And that’s the truth. I just know that she loves me, and she wanted me to go to school, so I could have a bit more of a normal life. Momma Bea is a good woman with a heart that is bigger than anyone else I know. She’s a good Christian, too. Anyone that knows her well can tell you that. She never intended anything but the best for me.”

  “I don’t doubt that,” Doctor Kinsey replied, “Apart from the incident when you were a child—when you disappeared after the tornado—she has a very good reputation and no criminal record. And despite all the trouble she may have landed herself in—trouble that I am in no position to help her with, by the way, unless you can convince me and, more importantly, the authorities, otherwise—you may be happy to know that she was very distraught over you and full of questions, and she has demanded to be allowed to see you here. Demands which, for now, have been denied until the judge can make a ruling. So, at least in that regard, she appears to be sincere in her love and concern for you.”

  Doctor Kinsey stopped and ran her fingers through her hair, a gesture that Abby would come to recognize as a “tell” that the good doctor was anxious or under some kind of stress.

  “Look,” the doctor started over, “I’m getting off track here. Did you know that Beatriz and Henry were not married? That Henry Thierrey claims to have no relation to you even though the neighbors and the school believe he is your daddy?”

  “Yeah. Henry, he’s just her boyfriend. I guess they like to call each other “ma” and “pa,” but they never really bothered to explain to anybody that they’re not actually husband and wife. It don’t really bother me or nobody else, I guess. Please don’t call him my daddy.” Abby rolled her eyes and made a gagging motion with her finger pointing to her mouth.

  Kinsey paused here briefly, perusing her papers. “A.B.,” she asked finally, “I need to ask this question, okay? Do you know if Beatriz Roy is your birth mother?”

  “She is not,” Abby replied succinctly, smiled and took a sip of her sweet tea.

  Kinsey frowned, and several wrinkles creased her forehead, making her look much older. “Do you know how she came to be in possession of you?”

  “Possession? That’s an odd word.” Abby chuckled. “Makes it sound like I’m some sort of contraband.” She raised her hand and smiled sincerely before continuing, “Please, doctor, I’m just having fun. No slight intended. My momma—and that would be my real, biological birth momma—gave me to her when I was just a baby. I just call her “Momma Bea” cuz she raised me like she was my momma, and for all ostensible purposes, she is in fact just like a mother to me.”

  “I see,�
� Doctor Kinsey went on. “Do you know where your birth mother is?”

  “I might if I go looking for her,” and here Abby paused, suddenly stunned by the thought that had never occurred to her before. Could I really find my mother? Is she out there, somewhere in the Fold?

  Of course she is, little sister. She and many others.

  The dragon’s voice resonated within her, deeply. Abby shut it down, acutely aware that she wanted to pursue this line of thought when she was alone, later, in the dark… maybe when she went to bed.

  “A.B., I want to run some tests,” Dr. Kinsey proceeded, cocking her head slightly, never taking her eye from Abby. Abby knew instantly that Dr. Kinsey was both intrigued and concerned. She would be a terrible poker player. Abby was certain that she could read her without using her dragon powers. Probably win lots of money if she had a mind to.

  Kinsey’s voice made her refocus and avoid amusing distractions. “With these tests we could match up with existing DNA records that might trace us back to your mother, but we could also find out many other things about you.”

  “You won’t find her,” Abby said smiling again. “Test or no test, you won’t.”

  “And why are you so certain of that?” Kinsey asked smiling as she took another chocolate and bit off a tiny corner for a nibble.

  Abby answered quickly, “Because she is not of this world.”

  “Do you mean she has passed away?”

  “Well, no,” Abby scrunched up her face in thought. “At least not in the sense that you imply. She didn’t die, if that’s what you mean. She just didn’t belong here, I guess. It wasn’t her time to be here. She went out of this world, out of this time, back to her own world. It’s a different time and place.”

  Kinsey was cocking her head again, and Abby giggled.

  “Miss Rubideaux,” Kinsey asked cautiously. “Do you believe your mother is from another world?”