I wondered if people who spoke fluently knew how difficult nonverbal communication could be.
“You’re still sick.” She reached out and took the spoon from my hand and pulled the bowl away. “You should really just drink something.”
I shook my head, hoping to convey that I felt better, even if it was a lie.
Her eyes narrowed as she studied me. “You only feel a little better because Dr. Dalton gave you some strong medicine yesterday. You should go back to bed.”
Bed sounded perfect, especially if she was going to come with me, but I feared that if I fell asleep again, I would dream. I didn’t want to dream anymore. I didn’t think I could handle any more scenes from the past.
I stood when she did and followed her to the stairs. However, when she entered my room, I hung back and leaned against the doorframe. The messy bed reminded me of my dreams. Very carefully, I reached inside the door to my desk and grabbed my car keys, holding them out to her.
“You’re sick.”
I shook my head, silently begging her to believe me.
“We can’t just go out into the cold when you’re sick like this.”
My brow knitted and I pressed my lips together. I extended my tired arm even more. I didn’t want to be here. We’d made loose plans revolving around driving far away and I didn’t want to put them on hold just because I was sick. I would get better. I really wanted to get away.
Being away from here and alone with her would make me better.
Slowly, her hand reached out and took the keys. “Fine, but you have to take a shower and put warm clothes on. And use the hair-dryer. Damp hair and winter air don’t mix and I’m not going to be responsible for your cold getting worse.”
I managed a smile when she relented, and did what she asked. Half an hour later, with dry hair and warm clothes, we snuck out to the garage and took off. I felt safe with her behind the wheel and me strapped into the passenger seat. Normally I liked knowing where roads would take me, but with Sophie driving the suspense was exciting, even if I didn’t have enough energy to actually be excited.
I must have fallen asleep right outside the town’s limits because instead of being in the passenger seat of my car, I was in the back seat of the black sedan, twisted around and tangled in the seat belt. I was watching the hospital grow distant behind me. It was silent in the car, but it was loud inside my head.
I was screaming and crying and panicking all at the same time. My mind ached just as badly as my body did, but none of that bubbled over to the outside because I didn’t know the people in the front seat. I didn’t know where they were taking me. All I knew was that I was alone. It had been hard enough when they took me to the hospital in the ambulance, now I had nothing but the clothes that weren’t mine.
It wasn’t until the building was nothing more than a speck that I forced myself to face forward. The lady driving had big hair and called me tender names like “honey” and “darling.” The other one was wrinkled. Her hands felt like the crisp, thin pages of the Bible.
The ride seemed long and the ladies kept asking me about things like school and books and toys. I knew that they were trying to distract me, but I had no words for them. I didn’t feel comfortable speaking, and besides, the questions were difficult to answer. Apart from the Bible, I only read what was in my school books, and it would have been hard to discern a favorite story from any of that.
They asked me about television and friends. I hadn’t the voice to tell them that I only watched the evangelists when I was allowed to, and I had no friends.
The wrinkled lady turned and handed me something small. It was silver and had a little paper tag sticking out of it. To be honest, she scared me a little, but I didn’t want to be rude, so I took it.
I realized that I’d seen kids with these at school. I looked up at her, my eyes wide, wondering if she knew what she had just given me.
“It’s okay, you can eat it.”
But I couldn’t. It would destroy the temple God had built and my father would be so angry. I shivered at just the thought of the strap across my back. I shook my head and tried to hand it back to her.
“Sweetie, it’s okay.”
I turned to the lady with big hair. She looked at me through the rear-view mirror and I shook my head again. “M-m-m-m-mmmmmy d-d-d-d-d-d, fffffffffffather w-w-w-w …”
“Your father doesn’t have a say in what you do anymore.”
“Janis,” the wrinkled lady hissed. It sounded like a warning.
My body froze for just a second. Then I twisted around and looked out the back window again. The pain that emanated from my lower body and fear of the unknown caused my breath to hitch. I had no idea where we were. Nothing was recognizable. When I turned back around, the wrinkled lady’s eyes were sad and caught mine.
“Please eat the chocolate, son. It’ll be okay.”
She called me “son” and sons obeyed. I was incredibly confused. No one told me what was going on. No one said anything about Joseph and the only thing these ladies said was that my father wasn’t here and that it was okay to eat the chocolate in my hand.
So I unwrapped the little drop-shaped confection and licked it.
“Go on.”
She was watching me and waiting for me to obey her command. It went against what my father always told me. I’d been disciplined many times for simply wanting something like this and now she was telling me to eat it. I didn’t understand.
Would she punish me if I didn’t eat it?
Whose rules did I follow? These ladies were here now, but my father would be angry when he found out. He would use the strap, and if not the strap, he would use the cord; if not the cord, he would find something else.
But what would these people use?
My father’s punishment was known. The punishment theses ladies could administer was unknown, and that frightened me more. I placed the piece of chocolate on my tongue and felt it melt.
It was rich and it coated my entire mouth.
I should have just taken a small bite because the whole thing was too much.
I swallowed the mouthful and instantly felt sick.
My father was going to be mad. He was already so upset. I had no idea what was going to happen when they gave me back to him.
Joseph wouldn’t be there to help me.
I tried to hold back tears and I felt like the world was going to collapse in on me. My body shook and my lungs seized. It was incredibly hot and I began to sweat. It was as if my father was actually here, disciplining me. My back and shoulders actually began to sting.
My stomach clenched and I wrapped my arms around my torso. My muscles were tight and my body felt at odds with itself.
It felt like I was going to die.
I was going to die.
“Elliott, wake up. Please? Elliott?”
My eyelids fluttered and I turned my head to see Sophie’s wide eyes, her arms extended toward me. I felt her hands in my hair.
She closed her eyes for a minute and blew air through pursed lips.
I blinked in confusion.
“You were acting like you couldn’t breathe and I don’t know that CPR shit and you forgot your phone.”
I tried smiling to reassure her. My clumsy arm reached out to take hold of her hand. She felt cold but it was good.
“You’re all sweaty and gross again.” She was worried. She nibbled at her lip and her tone conveyed her concern.
I slowly turned my head and looked out the window. All I saw was snow-covered farmland and that told me nothing of our location, but Sophie answered my silent question.
“We’re about twenty minutes outside of town. You were freaking me the hell out so I pulled over.”
I took a few deep breaths and squeezed her hand. Resting my head back, I
closed my eyes, then pulled her hand to my cheek and delighted in the relief it brought me.
“I’m taking you home.”
My eyes popped open and I shook my head quickly, gritting my teeth against the nausea. I held her hand hard against my chest. I didn’t want to go back home. I wanted to stay out with her.
“Elliott, listen, I’m the first one to applaud your rebellion, but not when you’re sick, okay? You’re burning up again, and it’s probably time for more medicine and tomorrow’s …”
I was happy that she stopped speaking. I knew what tomorrow was. I didn’t need a calendar or any of the Christmasy reminders to know what tomorrow was. I looked away from her and back to the frozen field in front of us.
“You need medicine.” Her voice was serious.
“G-G-God mmmmade mmmy body in HHHis likeness, Sophie. If it c-c-can’t fffight it off on its own then it’s n-not mmmeant to ssssurvive.”
She was quiet for much longer than I thought she should have been. I finally turned to face her, and she was looking at me as if I was crazy.
Perhaps I was. Or maybe it was just because I hadn’t spoken in a day or two.
My throat was dry, my voice was raspy, and I had no energy to continue speaking, but that didn’t stop her from giving me her opinion. “That’s your father’s bullshit, isn’t it? More suffering and pain bringing purity, right? It’s bullshit, Elliott; bullshit.”
I looked away again. I felt like I did riding in that black sedan. My world was caving in all over again because someone else was telling me that everything my father had taught me was false.
The problem was that I couldn’t honestly say if I believed him to begin with. This was not the time of year to question my thoughts. It only led to more questions.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. Be not wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord, and turn away from evil. It will be healing to your flesh and refreshment to your bones. As much as I didn’t want to rely on the words my father had set before me, and as much as I wanted to know differently, the only thing my mind could supply was words of Scripture.
Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that he opened for us through the curtain, that is, through his flesh, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. I pinched my eyes closed. I just wanted to keep driving until Christmas was over and I could go back to not feeling everything at once. I was tired of thinking so much and experiencing everything again. Things were better when I could control my thoughts; when the words of the Bible didn’t come unbidden into my mind.
“L-L-Let’s jjjust g-go.” I opened my eyes and pleaded with her. “Please, Sophie?”
She nodded and put the car into reverse. “Yeah, but we’re going back to Dr. Dalton.”
“N-n-no!”
“No? Because your father’s fucked-up religion said you should be sick and suffer? This shit isn’t god’s will, Elliott. A virus got into your body and made you sick. Do you know how lucky you are to have a doctor at home? You don’t have to feel like shit. You can let them make you feel better.”
“B-b-but GGGod …”
“Fuck god!”
My mouth snapped shut and I drew a blank on what to say back to her. I shouldn’t have said anything to begin with. Sophie didn’t like it when I spoke about God.
“God doesn’t have a plan for you, okay? Tom says hospitals are crawling with germs. You’re sick because you picked something up there. People get sick. And you’ll get better because you choose to get help and get better, not because it’s god’s stupid will.”
I was tired and she was angry. More than that, I was powerless to stop her from driving me back to my house, but before the motion of the car lulled me back under, I was able to mumble, “God’s w-w-will isn’t ssstupid.”
Suddenly I was back in Chicago, before the ambulance took me from my father’s house.
It had to be Saturday because I was home in the middle of the day listening to my father speak about wickedness. I didn’t know what I had done, but I was sure the lecture was in response to something he hated about me. Those kinds of lectures always were.
Joseph was sitting on the second step and I was on the tall wooden chair. The arms had nails that constantly worked themselves up. Joseph would beat them back down with a hammer, but within a week, they would poke up about a quarter-inch.
My father had mentioned “The Fallen,” who I knew to be my mother. I looked at Joseph out of the corner of my eye. His body tensed, but he had no other reaction.
“Are you listening, Elliott?”
I jumped at my father’s voice and turned my eyes to him. “Y-y-y-yes, ssssssir.”
I pulled my entire focus back to him. While my brother almost always tried to help me out when my father was angry, it was best to avoid my father’s anger altogether.
“Then He will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devils and his angels.’”
I listened hard to my father as he read from the book of Matthew. His lessons always came with tests and I worried about failing. Failing meant more studying and more passages. More passages meant more chances to fail.
The chair was hard and I wished the back wasn’t so straight. I wondered why anyone would have built such an uncomfortable chair. I knew my father sat me in it because it was uncomfortable. He provided me little comfort because of the heavy mark the Devil had placed upon me.
I was not like Joseph.
My brother could listen to a passage just once and repeat the whole thing with no problem. His words were clear and unwavering. He didn’t directly stand up to our father, but there was a gentle confidence he used because he knew he was righteous.
Just like my father.
Only certain verses would get to him. Only certain things would upset him. My father allowed him the luxury of emotional expression in those times, as long as he removed himself from the room and from my father’s sight.
I was never allowed to do that. I had learned very young that even in the quiet of my room, if I cried or made any noise beyond hushed prayer, my father would come and punish me.
But sometimes I could hear Joseph in his room.
One time I peeked around the corner and saw my father outside my brother’s door. I had heard Joseph wail and it had frightened me awake. My father put his left hand on the door and raised his right hand up to God.
My heart raced because the threat of punishment was always there. God didn’t love those who disobeyed and I was supposed to be in bed.
“And what book gave us those words, Elliott?”
I gasped for air at my father’s stern voice, my body tensing. I hadn’t paid attention, even after he warned me. I was frozen and yet my mouth was making horrible noises that were nothing more than stunted sounds.
“Do you not know?”
My hands clenched together and I looked over toward the stairway.
“Joseph will not give you the answer.”
The decision had to be made. I could either admit that I wasn’t listening and face certain punishment, or I could take my best guess and have a chance at avoiding it.
“M-M-MMMMMatthew?” I asked since that was the last verse I remembered.
I was barely able to look at my father, but I could feel his hot stare. I was obviously wrong.
“Joseph, please inform your brother which Bible verse he is to recite now.”
Joseph’s voice was tight. “Ezekiel, chapter eighteen, verse twenty.”
>
My brain felt slow as I rummaged through all the passages in my head.
“Elliott,” my father said and I automatically slid off the chair.
My eyes were fixed on the hardwood floor.
“Shirt, please.”
“I’ll take it for him.”
My trembling fingers paused and I looked at my brother and then at my father. As much as I did not want the strap today, or any day, I wished that Joseph hadn’t opened his mouth. I could feel the anger radiating off my father.
“You are not Jesus, son. You are not here to wash away his sins.” My father pointed at me and I dropped my eyes before he saw that I was looking. “So you will both be disciplined. Elliott for sloth, and you for pride.”
I turned and faced my chair. All of my hopes to be free of the strap today were gone and now Joseph would get it for trying to help. There were times when I wished that he would just stop trying to save me.
“Shirts, please.”
My shirt fell from my shoulders and I knelt before my chair. I heard my father behind me, picking it up and folding it properly.
“Ezekiel, Elliott.”
I swallowed hard and tried to find my voice. The lashing would be lessened if I could make it through without stuttering.
“The soul who sins shall die.”
The first lash struck me across the shoulders and I tried to contain my cry.
“The son shall not suffer for the iniquity of the father, nor the father suffer for the iniquity of the son.”
Joseph barely made a sound as he took his first lash.
“The righteousness of the righteous shall be upon himself.” I felt happy that I got it right. I usually had problems with R’s. The next two blows from the strap took the air from my lungs and it took me a minute to recover. My voice was almost nonexistent as I finished, “and the wwwwickedness of the w-w-wicked shall be upon himself.”
I glanced at Joseph as he received the strap again. My father had initiated one right when I stuttered, so the cut on my brother’s flesh was deep. He arched his back and kept his hands behind his head, but it was clear to see that his fingers were curled tightly in his hair.
N K Smith - [Old Wounds 03] Page 24
