The Circus in Me
Page 28
My concern fluctuated from high alert to unresponsiveness. Arriving at the absolution if I met any familiar wondering eyes, I carelessly would brush them off with a shrug of my shoulder. My target, the objective in mind stood 5’10, brown hair, weary eyes, and a scar on his right cheek from fishing as a child. A stride in his quaking step, you knew when my brother came around all the woodland creatures hid.
Malachi tugged crates of produce from the back of his yellow old pickup. Aubrie Ayn began stacking them onto the bare shelves. His figure a mirage in my mind. I stood there out of place, for hours it seemed like, watching as he went about his cultural duties. He aged in the sunlight his hair almost gray in comparison to my taint locks. His ghostly appearance making it certain he changed from the guy I once knew to a man standing solid.
I went alone stalking the very ground on which I found my brother’s body in mangled confliction. No orders being transmitted to headquarters to inform them of pending arrival. I merely took a bus, a train, a plane, anything that would move me along the state lines to get back in front of our Amish souk.
Eyes darting every which way to make my appearance invisible as possible. Fight the outrage in my bones to stay a spectator. Unpleasant thoughts about calling out his name. Aubrie Ayn skipping to finish her chores, ideas of a pleasant Rumspinga holiday still in play.
The sun’s position fluctuating in a matter of moments. Dusk was approaching, he made movements to pack in the feed for his farm animals as the day grew old. I watched and waited impulsively making a commotion so we would meet eyes.
A tourist group from the modern town nearby stopped in for a treat at the simple life. Baffled at their arrival he took a direction towards the edge of my hiding place. Nearly knocking me clear off my feet. His glance double-taking my contemporary wardrobe. Halting only momentarily. Eyes wavering from the work at hand. Staring in disbelief now, he was the one in hostile shock.
My brother’s expression wondered how I stood before him costumed as an outsider. Aubrie Ayn giving a cheerful wave. Malachi never looking back to whom I was in fact waving too. His glare went deep beyond any recognition of loyalty.
Aubrie’s voice singing out in a friendly welcome. Malachi, moved back to the pickup. Dragging my young sister in hurry to evade the predicament. Consoling his standoffish attitude Aubrie pleaded with him to rebuild the broken bridges burning bright in my oval eyes. His eyes only envisioning ashes upon ashes he had walked through to get to the present time in his life. Adolescent faults left behind for good; did that include yours truly?
I indeed became the one pointed out as a leper.
Triturated object left beside the tracks of rubber. Merely passing by me on his way back to the old country. The brother I thought I once knew, moved counter to the livelihood I’d chosen over this community. One that shunned the idea of my brother’s past habits. Along down the dirt road kicking up mud; was I the one to defy him. Was I not the one to claim his life worthy of notice? Silence struggling to survive my words falling flat out in the dusty wind. His tracks blown away in the whispers of summer. His eyes glaring back at me through the rearview mirror with curiosity in dilated pupils. Left to find meaning of life all alone with blind folds, travelers coming on it by happenstance or common luck.
My brother the walking miracle, transforming back into the old ways of Amish traditions.
He knew I’d come for the vision of him. Miles not making an impact on the absolute mind. Time trekked to find the life living and breathing I once knew all on its own. This boy transformed into a version my biological father would gladly pat on the back. Hands shaking the strong man he was revived as. Pride quiet in a hush tone would enter my father’s heart as his once troubled son, maneuvered into the prospect of respected soul.
Over the conquest of troubling days, bent up angst, the worry building so far up inside me, I became half of a whole. Memories of him haunting me to warn me away from the pleasures of the new world. Making the choice, as he confirmed to me his opposition. Briggs clearly noting the demise of my one true self. Making the necessary adjustments to surge myself together.
It’s somehow alike to the movies that have no sound in sight. Quiet vulnerable words you wish to share with the other characters only having the silence make arguments for you. You want to reach out and touch your long lost friend. Deliberate well enough you can’t afford to go back, mingling with past relations. You must move forward and I believe that is what he recognized as he drove off to the Amish territory.
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