Midsummer's Eve

by Kitty Margo

  “Thank you. My husband’s parents passed away last year and left it to us. I had a thriving business in Pennsylvania and would have been content to spend my remaining years there, but my husband had a desire to come back home to North Carolina after he retired. So, here we are. But it’s so quiet here. I’m accustomed to the hustle and bustle of a large city. I had the receptionist, the waiting room, an adequate clientele, the whole nine yards.” She motioned and pointed through the window. “As you can see my only companions now are dogs and cows.”

  We went into a bedroom with floor to ceiling windows and a spectacular view of… cows. The room was country chic at its best, with lovely, knotty pine walls and wooden floors that had been shined and buffed to a high gloss. The breeze coming through the open window ruffled frilly lace curtains and a patchwork quilt covered the four-poster bed. Hand stitched embroidery samples adorned the walls.

  The focal point of the room was a wooden rocking chair with a thick patchwork cushion positioned in front of the floor to ceiling window. She instructed me to sit in the chair. Marilyn sat down on a stool in front of me.

  I had already decided that I was going to pretend to slip into a deep meditative state just to make her feel good. You know us Southerners. We love to give folks the warm fuzzies and make them feel welcome.

  “To begin with, can you tell me something that you need help with, Eve?” She had her pen and paper at the ready and was waiting patiently for me to lay out my deepest, darkest secrets.

  “I’m not really sure that I need help.” Wow, I had spent way too much time with Adam if I could say those words with a straight face.

  “Okay. Are there any aspects of your life that you wish you could change?”

  “Well, I suppose. I mean I guess everyone has things about themselves they would change if they could.”

  “You’re right. Almost everyone does. Tell me one of the things you would change.”

  Good. She didn’t expect me to tell her all my problems in an hour. Just one.

  As I was trying to narrow down one of my simpler issue from the multitudes, just to make her happy, I was also nervously, and without realizing it, fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of her lace curtain. I gasped, and blushed to the roots of my hair when the hem unraveled in my hand.

  “Oh, Marilyn! I’m so sorry! Do you have a needle and thread? I will be happy sew it back up!” To be so stupid! How could I just sit there and unravel the woman’s curtain?

  “Don’t worry about it, Eve. Just talk to me.” She patiently pulled my fidgety hands to rest in my lap.

  “Are you sure?” I asked glancing toward the ragged hem.

  “Absolutely positive. You wouldn’t believe how many times that curtain has needed to be re-hemmed.”

  Why was I suddenly nervous enough to crawl out of my own skin and why was my heart pounding against my chest hard enough to crack a rib? I leaned back in the rocker, took a deep, calming breath and blurted, “Okay, let’s do this. Let me see. Where to begin? For starters, I always choose the wrong man. Always. Always. It’s a life long pattern. The less they have to offer, the more I am inexplicably drawn to them. What else? Oh! I often get accused of being a controlling bitch. Imagine that.”

  I caught myself reaching for a thread hanging below the curtain, but fortunately stopped myself in time. “I left my husband, who treated me like a queen, for a raging alcoholic. In every relationship since, I end up getting hurt and moving on to another man identical to the previous one. It’s a vicious cycle that I would love to break.”

  “You poor thing.” She frowned, patted my hands and moved to stand behind my chair. “I promise to do my best to get you to understand why you allow this to keep happening over and over in your life.”

  “Good luck.” You’re going to need it! Closing my eyes I decided to humor her. I had spilled a minute portion of my guts, now the rest was up to her. Bless her!

  Now the part where she put me under is still a little sketchy, so much for humoring her. And it happened so fast! All I really remember is her standing behind me and rubbing my temples and constantly talking to me in a soothing voice. She kept talking and talking and saying words that I can’t remember in a comforting tone, while she massaged my temples. I thought they were supposed to swing a pendulum in front of your eyes or something? Shows what I know.

  I remember she had me floating around on a magic carpet, of all things! Yep, a large red magic carpet. I gracefully soared over the town, the town water tower, the elementary school, my house, Dad’s garden and Rocky River. Then, close to my ear, I heard Marilyn tell me to fly to my favorite spot. Where was my favorite spot? I didn’t have a clue. My bed? No. Myrtle Beach? No. Adam’s house? No. Charleston, South Carolina? No.

  Yes, I did!

  Suddenly, I remembered my favorite spot as a child. It was underneath the umbrella of a huge oak tree on a peninsula of land between the banks of the Pee Dee and Rocky Rivers. I had spent many contented hours as a child there, reading my cherished books.

  Ever obedient, using mind control I guess, I steered my carpet toward the tree and hovered over the branches. Then, without any instructions from me, my carpet slowly floated down to the ground and landed with a gentle stirring of air. I left the carpet and sat with my back against the tree and gazed out at the peaceful river meandering by on a slow current. Shoot, why didn’t I bring a book. I hadn’t felt this calm in…forever. What now?

  Marilyn was nowhere around but her words in my ear instructed me to take 4 deep breaths and exhale them slowly. After I did, she asked, “Are you relaxed, Eve?”

  “Yes.” Actually I felt very relaxed at the moment, although, I sincerely doubted that I even understood the true meaning of the word.

  “Describe the sky to me.”

  I glanced up and gasped, cringing in absolute horror at what I saw heading toward me. The sky looked terrifying! How had I missed such a massive approaching storm when I was floating through the clouds on my carpet?

  “I see black masses of angry clouds boiling across the sky. It’s getting so dark, I can barely see my hand in front of me. Lightening is flashing in every direction and rain is coming. I want to leave now, Marilyn. Before it gets here!”

  “The tree will shelter you and keep you safe.”

  “A tree isn’t going to protect me from that! Are you crazy!” I shrieked. “Ouch! Something is hitting me. Ouch! It’s hail!” I looked for somewhere to run. I had to run!

  Run, Eve, run!

  I heard Marilyn’s soft, reassuring voice again. “The tree leaves will shelter you, won’t they, Eve?”

  “Hell no, they won’t shelter me! Ouch! Get me out of here, Marilyn!”

  There was no place to run! I grabbed the carpet and held it over my head for protection from the hail. Where was Marilyn? Why would she hypnotize me and send me out here alone in a severe thunderstorm? “Marilyn,” I screamed, “Help me!”

  Then the wind picked up, but it wasn’t a normal wind. It was a hurricane force wind. I opened my eyes against the debris being blown into my face and that’s when I saw the funnel cloud stretching toward the water.

  Oh, my dear God! It was a tornado!

  Tree limbs were braking off and becoming airborne and shooting by me like missiles. What limbs remained on the trees were bending and swaying almost to the ground as the leaves swirled viciously in every direction. The ferocious wind had me pressed back against the tree and I was unable to move.

  “How does the water in the river look?” I heard Marilyn’s calm voice murmur close to my ear. I forced my head to one side, but she wasn’t there.

  “Whitecaps! There are whitecaps everywhere!” Huge waves sloshed up on the riverbank at my feet. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t even move. I was sure the funnel cloud would soon snatch me up and carry me to Oz. Then somehow, through sheer force of will, I turned my body enough to wrap my arms around the trunk of the tree. I held on for dear life crying, “Help! Help! Somebody, please, help!”

  �
��A man hurt you didn’t he, Eve?”

  What? Where was Marilyn? And why on earth was she wasting precious time talking about something like that at a time like this. “No!” I shouted, just to get her to concentrate on the problem at hand. Like… oh… say… the tornado! “Nobody hurt me!”

  “Look at that tree across from you, Eve. Do you see the tree with the picture frame hanging on it?”

  “No! It’s raining and hail is bouncing off my head, and there is a tornado! I can’t see anything!”

  “Walk over to the tree with the picture frame, Eve.”

  “Are you crazy? I can’t walk! I would be blown to the next state if I tried! The wind is too strong! Make it go away! Please, make it go away!”

  “Walk over to the picture frame, Eve.”

  “I can’t!” I screamed to the top of my lungs, fed up with her apparent picture frame fascination. “Don’t you understand? I can’t move against the wind! It’s too strong!”

  “Yes. You can! It’s the only way to make the storm go away.”

  Now she tells me. Couldn’t we have focused on the picture before the storms arrival?

  More terrified than I had ever been, I slowly released my death grip on the tree. Somehow, I obeyed her and fought against the howling wind, torrential rain and pounding hail, that was cutting into my scalp, to stand in front of the tree. The picture frame was nailed to it and flapping wildly in the wind.

  “Eve, look at the picture and describe what you see.”

  I could barely make out the picture as it danced against the tree in the punishing wind and driving rain and she wanted me to do a report on it. But she had said it was the only way to stop the storm. So I wiped the rain from my eyes, leaned into it and put my hands on each side of my eyes. “I see a little girl with golden curls.”

  “How old is she?”

  Lightening struck a tree that was only a few feet away and split the trunk down the middle. Booming thunder that sounded like cannons firing filled the air. One glance toward the river assured me that it was rising fast.

  “I don’t know! She looks to be about four years old!”

  “Who is the little girl, Eve?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Look closely, Eve. Who is she?”

  “I told you!” I cried, as muddy, debris filled water began to swirl around my feet. “I don’t know! Stop asking me! I don’t know who she is!”

  “Yes, you do, Eve! Look closely at the little girl! Tell me who she is?”

  A wave rushed up on the riverbank and this time water surged around my knees. The current was too strong. I was going to drown! It was all over for me. I might as well be honest. I knew exactly who the little girl in the picture was. “It’s me! I am the little girl in the picture!”

  “Yes, Eve, it’s you. Something happened to you when you were four years old. Do you remember what happened to you, Eve?”

  “No!” I turned and tried to run, but the wind and water pinned me against the tree and I saw another massive wave building in the river. “I don’t remember! I don’t remember! Leave me alone! Please! Somebody please help me!”

  Then I heard Marilyn’s voice in my ear. “Turn around and look at the little girl, Eve.”

  “No! Leave me alone! Just get me out of here! I don’t want to die! I don’t want to be here. I just want to go home!”

  “Eve, what happened to the little girl?”

  I would do it if it would make her shut up about the little girl for two seconds and concentrate on getting me the hell out of there. I turned and looked into the little blonde haired girls sad, troubled eyes. They were not the happy, mischievous eyes of a typical four year old. She had experienced far too many of life’s atrocities at such a tender impressionable age. As I watched, a silent tear mixed with the rain and coursed slowly down her plump, rosy cheek.

  And suddenly I remembered!

  Oh God!

  I remembered!

  “He put something in her mouth and it’s choking her! She can’t breathe! Help her! Help her! She can’t breathe!”

  “He put his penis in her mouth. Didn’t he, Eve.”

  “Yes.”

  “What else?”

  “He held her head so she couldn’t move! She couldn’t breathe! Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!”

  “What else did he do, Eve?”

  “He put something between her legs! It hurts! It hurts! Get it out! Please get it out!”

  I heard screams of unearthly pain and guttural moans, but didn’t know where they were coming from. Was it the little girl? Bless her precious little heart! She was filled with so much pain. The screaming seemed to go on for hours and hours, until the little girl lost her voice and could barely whisper. And then a strong gust of wind came and knocked the picture frame from the tree. It hit a floating log and shattered into a million pieces. I watched as the little girls sad face was swept away by the raging river.

  “Go back to your tree, Eve. He’s gone. The man who hurt you is gone forever. He can never hurt you again. And we are going to rid your body of all the filth that he filled you with.”

  The wind had calmed and the rain had slowed to a light drizzle. The water was receding into the river. I looked down and saw that I was holding a shiny new tin bucket with a handle.

  “You are going to start to vomit, Eve. You will purge all the evil, until there is not a trace of him left inside of you.”

  Immediately, I felt a rumble in my stomach and felt bile rising in my throat. I held my head over the bucket as my vomit splashed against the bottom of the bucket, copious amounts of vomit spewing from my nose and mouth. When my vomiting slowed enough for me to open my eyes, I looked and was mortified to see that it wasn’t vomit spilling out of my mouth. Much to my absolute disgust it was feces. Oh, dear God!

  “Eve, when the bucket is full dump the contents in the river.”

  I filled the bucket several times and emptied it in the river. Each time I was sure that nothing was left, more would rise in my throat and gush forth. I emptied the last bucket and stood gazing out across the calm river.

  “Is it all gone, Eve?”

  “I think so.” I barely had the energy to speak and my throat felt raw.

  “Good. Now sit back down and put your back against your favorite tree.”

  “Okay.”

  “Describe the sky to me.”

  “Clear blue sky with white fluffy clouds, and bright sunlight streaming through the trees and reflecting off the water. Look, I see a bald eagle soaring over the river!”

  “Yes, clear blue skies, Eve. How do you feel?”

  I thought about that for a moment, and said, “Empty.”

  “Sit down on your magic carpet and come back here.”

  I did as I was told.

  “When I snap my fingers you will awaken and remember everything,” Marilyn whispered in my ear as I settled back into the rocking chair.

  She snapped her fingers and I woke up and looked around me. My shirt felt wet and sticky. I was too mortified to glance down at my clothes. Oh! The embarrassment and total humiliation of sitting before her with clothes covered in fecal matter.

  And how must my mouth and teeth look? Surprisingly, I didn’t have a horrible taste in my mouth. Even more surprising, I didn’t feel the urge to run. I only wanted clean clothes and a toothbrush.

  Gathering my courage, my hands flew to the buttons on my shirt to rip it off and get that degradation over with as quickly as possible. “Could I borrow a shirt from you, Marilyn? I will return it later, I promise. I don’t want to ride home with. . . ”

  “Your shirt is fine, Eve.”

  Was she crazy? I glanced down with a blazing face and was completely astonished to find my shirt soaked through and through with tears. Nothing more. Relief washed over me in a flood as I raked trembling fingers through my hair and tried to pull myself together. I had cried so much that it hurt to speak and my voice cracked in my throat when I did, but I forced a few words out. “I remembe
r.”

  “Yes, you do. You remember what happened to you, Eve. Now we know why you always chose the wrong man and had to be in control at all times. You couldn’t do anything to protect yourself from the man who hurt you. You had no control over the situation or what he was doing to you. Then, as an adult, you finally had control of your life and you weren’t about to relinquish that control to anyone else. Now you can release the shame that you have carried all these years. The shame of what he did to you. He hurt you, Eve. You were four years old and there was absolutely nothing you could have done to stop him.”

  “In your past relationships, because of your shame, you didn’t feel worthy of a decent man who would love you and care for you and only you. You only allowed yourself to get involved with men who you knew would treat you badly and hurt you in the end. You thought that was what you deserved, so that is the type of man you sought. But now that all the ugliness and shame have been emptied out of your body, you can move on with your life, and hopefully meet a man worthy of your love.”

  “I can only pray that you are right.” I smiled, stood shakily and hugged her. “Thank you, Marilyn.”

  “You’re welcome. How do you feel now, Eve?”

  “I’m… not sure,” I answered, truthfully. I didn’t know how I felt. I felt drained for sure, and different somehow.

  The cows lowed and the dogs barked as I returned to the Jeep.

  I drove home with my mind racing. With Marilyn’s help I had skimmed the surface of the molestation that had occurred when I was four, but I needed more answers and there was only one person who could give them to me. I pulled into my driveway and walked to my mom’s house next door.

  She was at the stove stirring fried potatoes in one cast iron skillet and fried okra in another. “You must have smelled it cooking. I’ll be putting supper on the table in a few minutes.”

  “Good. I’m starving.” I was ravenous and the food smelled delicious. I lifted the lid on the third cast iron skillet on the back burner and found fried chicken browning.

  Can you tell cholesterol ain’t a thang in our family? I know! I know! It is one of life’s greatest hazards! However, my grandmother is 96 years old and to hear her tell it she was raised on, “fried okrie, fried taters, pinto beans, cornbread and fat back,” and is still as feisty as she was 20 years ago.