Empathy

Empathy

JMBlondin

8/25/2015

 

                                                                   I’m bored. I have been walking around this mall now for a couple hours. Not looking for anything particular but just wondering around, waiting. It’s very hot outside but in here it’s nice and cool. I am not the only one taking advantage of the air conditioning; they’re many people that seem to be just ambling around, not really shopping, and probably just trying to stay cool.

This mall is called The Wagon Wheel and is laid out like its namesake with the central food court in the hub and the mall shops on each side of the five spokes leading out. Between the spokes are outdoor areas with tables and chairs spaced among the palm trees and low bushes. There are doors leading out at several locations along each spoke. On each door is a small sign declaring that smoking is permitted and “Please watch your children.” Here and there are fountains or a pool holding koi carp. Looking out at one point I see a small toddler standing on the edge of one of the pools pointing down at the fish, his mother standing very close to him.

Circling around the end is the ‘wheel ‘where small shops and specialty stores are located and allowing for access to the other spokes in the wheel. Pedestrians, mall walkers, and shoppers are segregated by a center area in each spoke consisting of chairs and planters. These keep people that are moving one direction to each side of the spoke. In some places there are coin-operated machines for drinks and snacks located in the center areas. There are signs at the beginning of each leg of the wheel with store locations and a bright red “YOU ARE HERE” with an “X”.

              From time to time I get a strong emotion from someone, anger, great sadness, worry. Like a strong smell of something that blows past. You cannot always tell where it comes from but you can still get it just for a second and then it’s gone. I have had this ability if you will, since I was a small boy. There was a time that I would not go into crowds of people due to the overwhelming wash of emotions especially during the holidays. As I got older I learned to filter it out for the most part although sometime someone bleeds through.

              Today I am waiting.

 I had just stepped back from the crowd of people flowing along the spoke past me. The moving people are like ripples in fast running stream. The bright overhead lights reflecting from necklaces or earrings like those that sunlight does on a ripple. No one stands out as they move past intent on their own mission. Sometimes a bright color passes, as a maple leaf would look like floating past in the fall.

Placing my back to the wall with arms crossed I just watched as people flowed by. In the middle the passageway is the dividing line of chairs arranged beside planters. In this spoke there are small advertising signs set up like billboards along the highway. Like a highway, people on this side moving from left to right and on the other right to left. Directly in front of me is a very large planter with a beautiful tree in it, above it is a very large section of glass where the sun can be seen.

              I turned to look into the shop behind me. Through the glass there are racks of old books, some open, and some closed. Little title cards with colored leaves in the corners tell the name and author of the tome that is for sale sits in front of each book. Some of the books were tightly wrapped in plastic to protect them. The little cards in front of these proclaiming they were written in 1890’s and whom by. On these cards instead of a price it is written INQUIRE WITHIN.  

              Leaning forward attempting to read the title on a particularly beautifully covered book I am hit with the very strong emotional wash of great loss and anguish. It hits so hard that for a moment I cannot see for the tears that are filling my eyes, my heart is hurting. This is not my emotion I’m not harboring any feeling of loss nor have I lost anything, this is what I have waited for.

*****

Spinning around he scans the moving people trying to identify the source of the pain but no one is stopping, no one stands out from the others. Stepping to the right to change the angle of view he scans again and there on the other side stands a woman who seems to be a rock in the flow. She is not moving and people are moving around her, her pain is a bubble that they are unknowingly repelled by. No one is bumping her or even getting close to her, her emotional outburst is like a buffer around her and to him she is in stark focus where all the others are now a moving blur.              

              Stepping into the flow of people it parts for him. He is not looking around nor trying to avoid anyone, they’re unconsciously avoiding him. He moves straight to the center and steps around a small-unoccupied chair where he stops. The woman is standing facing the flow as it moves past her; she somehow turned around and is now facing the wrong way, into the flow of people. She is wearing an ankle length dark blue and black flowered dress cinched at the waist with a wide black belt and a silver buckle, her flat shoes are black. Head bowed her long hair is hanging straight down and covering her shoulders and most of her face.

              She is clutching a cell phone in her right hand knuckles white, the screen still lit, it seems that she did not hang up the call, and there is a picture on the screen. Her left hand is covering her mouth. Her huge light blue eyes are filled with tears that are dripping down to the floor in bright silvery drops like water from a dripping faucet.

              He steps closer and again stops facing her now. He does not know her but her pain is washing off her like a flood. He still has no idea why he is drawn to her, he never knows. He knows that he must do something, is driven to do something. She looks up to see him standing there. Opening her mouth to speak a sob escapes instead. 

              He says only loud enough for her to hear over the background music and the murmur of voices.
             “I can help you; let me take some of your pain.” With that he opens his arms and without hesitation she brings her arms up to her chest and she steps into his embrace. A soft crack sounds as the phone hits the floor the noise lost in din of the crowd. As he closes his arms around her into a tight hug she breaks into racking sobs. Around them the river of people continues to pass seemingly not to notice them.
              “Let it go” he whispers through her hair which now covers her face. Her sobbing is shaking her small body so hard that it is threading to break his grip on her.
              “Let it go,” he says again. “Let me take some of this pain.”
              She sags into him deeper they now look like one person. He does not loosen his hug as her pain washes into him. He does not know why she is torn so, cannot know the reason but it does not matter. For some reason he is compelled to help her. Then as every other time the flashes of memory start.

              *****

“Lindsey”, she hears her mom yell, “Lindsey it’s time to come in.” She is eight years old and has been playing with her doll in the yard since dinner.

“OK mom”, she shouts back picking up her favorite doll and runs for the house. Her mom greets her at the door and tells her that it is time to get cleaned up for bed.
“Yes mom” she says setting the doll on the edge of the table and heads up stairs to take a bath. Pausing in the upstairs hallway at the top of the stairs she looks at the picture that is sitting on the table near the head of the stairs. As she has done every night for the last three years she pauses to look into the eyes of the man pictured there. Reaching out she touches the edge of the frame and says, “Hi Daddy,” then proceeds to her room to get undressed and ready to take a bath.
Slipping out of her knee length cream colored dress and white panties she turns and looks to the reflection in the mirror hung on the back of her door. She pulls at her tangled hair and removes a leaf stuck there. Turning a little left then right she looks at herself.
              “One day I will be as pretty as mom” she says aloud, turns and skips into the single bathroom that’s between her room and her mom’s, the one that her mom and dad used before daddy went to heaven.

*****

              “Happy Birthday!” Katelyn, Sara and Jill are all clapping as Lindsey bends and pretends to blow out the four unlit candles on the little cake they surprised her with.

              “Make a wish,” Jill the redhead in the middle says throwing her arms around the necks of the other two girls.
              “Yeah, make a wish!” all three say in unison then break into giggles. Her best friends surprised her with cake in the middle of the school lunchroom. Straightening up she looks around. No one is paying any attention to them as usual. Katelyn leans over and plops a wet noisy kiss on Lindsey’s cheek saying,
              “It’s not every day you have your thirteenth birthday.” All the girls sit down and Sara produces a small plastic knife and four forks from her purse. Pulling extra plates from under the cake she proceeds to cut the cake into four equal portions and placing each on a plate sliding them in front of each girl. Each slice has a candle stuck in it. Laughing at each other they each poise their forks above the slices and Lindsey says,

              “On the count of three”, she looks at each girl as she counts,”ONE…TWO…THREE!” Each girl plunges their forks into the cake taking a large bite and as one they stick the cake into their mouths trying not to spit any out as they all laugh.

             Later that night Lindsey hugs her mom and thanks her for the birthday present telling her,
              “I love it mom and thank you.” She clutches the large white teddy bear to her chest. “I am going to go up and get a shower then go to bed. I am really tired after baseball practice today. “
            Slowly she climbs the stairs as she has done so many nights before and again she stops to look at the picture. She reaches out and touches the side of the frame sliding her finger up and down as she speaks.
              “Hey Daddy, I’m thirteen today. The girls and I had a little birthday cake at lunch today and mom and I had a nice night tonight. I miss you!” She starts to turn away but stops, reaching back out to the picture picking it up.

              “I love you Daddy.” She says then places the picture back on the table, adjusts it back to the correct position and turns back to her room placing the new bear on the bed.

              Standing in her room she slides out of her jeans and underwear, pulls off the tee shirt and bra tossing them all to the chair beside the bed. She turns around and adjusts the door so that she can see herself in the mirror. Brushing her long dark hair back she looks at herself.
              “I’m almost as beautiful as mom,” she says cupping her small breast then turning goes through the door and into the bathroom.

*****

              “Hello. My name is Lindsey and I’m twenty years old.” She slowly looks into the eight faces intently watching her. Eight little girls waiting eagerly for whatever Lindsey has to say.

             “I lost my dad when I was very young and like you I miss him very much.” She is standing in a first grade classroom. This is her mom’s classroom and her mom is standing in the back of the room leaning against the wall smiling watching Lindsey.
              There are eight little girls all sitting in chairs arranged in a semi-circle around in front of Lindsey. These girls were gathered here from other classes because they had all lost their dads recently and were having problems adjusting.

              Lindsey’s mom had asked her one night over dinner, “Honey, would you consider coming in and talking to some of the children, little girls that have lost their dads? I know that you still miss him and I know you talk to him every night. I think that maybe you can help them understand and maybe cope, letting them know that you have learned to cope.”

              Looking from her mom back to the children Lindsey smiles and says,
             “Even though your dad is not here any longer he still loves you.”
               Standing at the top of the stairs that night she picks up the picture. The edges of the frame are tarnished where she has touched it almost every day of the last fifteen years, the glass smuggled from a thousand kisses.
              “Daddy, I talked to a bunch of little girls today in mom’s class. Little girls like me that have lost their dads. I told them all about you and how I try to say something to you every night before I get ready for bed.” She sets the picture back on the little table.
              “I told them that their daddy is watching over them just as you have watched over me.” She kisses her finger and touches the face in the frame then turns and heads into her room.
              Standing naked in front of the mirror, as she has done so many times since she was a little girl, she run her hand down her body saying,
              “I’m as beautiful as mom.” She turns and goes to take a shower.

*****

              “Miss Dunkin” says the woman behind the desk, “I have reviewed your application and would like to inform you that you have been approved for the home loan.” Lindsey sits there without moving for what seems like minutes. She is unable to believe that she has gotten the loan and will be getting the house that she has wanted for years, will finally is able to move her mom out of the care home where she has lived for the last two years.  

              Looking down at the nameplate sitting on the desk reassuring herself of the woman’s name Lindsey says,
              “Oh Mrs. Rymer thank you so much! You have no idea how much this means to me, I can finally bring my mom home.” Lindsey stands up and then sits down again. She tries to reach over the desk to shake the bank official’s hand and knocks over her nameplate. Lindsey jumps up and reaching out returns the plate to its correct position.
              “Mrs. Rymer, can I give you a hug?”
              “Of course dear, of course,” Mrs. Rymer says stands and moves partly around the desk meeting Lindsey as she steps towards her. They hug and as Lindsey steps back she absently brushes at the shoulder of Mrs. Rymers suit where her tears have left a mark.  
              “Dear child, at twenty-nine you’re doing very well. You have worked hard and now you can accept rewards for all that work.”

              Moving in was a lot of work she thinks as she looked around the living room of her new home. Having finally gotten all of her things in and arranged the way she wanted. Mom will be here tomorrow she thinks. Her room is ready; the house is ready now and I need a shower.

              Lindsey walks from the living room to the small hall leading to the bath and bedrooms. There at the entrance of the hall is a small table with a vase of red and blue plastic flowers. Sitting in front of the vase is an old picture frame, badly in need of replacement and inside it sits a picture of a man that she does not remember but has always loved. She lifts up the picture and turning it around says as she scans the room with it.

              “See dad it’s done. The house is ready and I will bring mom home tomorrow, we’ll be together again.” She turns the picture, kisses it, and places it back on the table. With one last look around the room she heads down to her room.

              Standing nude in front of the mirror that she moved from her mom’s house she slowly turns around looking at herself. I’m as beautiful as mom is she thinks patting her tummy. I had better be more careful about what I eat. Turning to the bathroom she says aloud to the house, mom will be here tomorrow.

              The woman is rocking slowly back and forth as her crying continues. Years of pain are flowing out of her and washing over the man. He does not falter nor does his hug lesson as the images continue to pour out of her along with all the held in pain.

*****

              “Lindsey, Lindsey can you come here please?” Her mother’s soft voice barely heard over the sound of the vacuum cleaner. Lindsey turns off the machine and hurries into her mom’s room.

              “What is it mom?” she says stepping into the room. Her mom is holding out her phone as if it is an insect to be disposed of.

              “Can you show me again how to work this damn thing?” she says shaking the phone like a cat with a mouse. With the patience that’s born out of deep love Lindsey goes over again all the things that can be done with the phone. The last being how to take pictures. She smiles and poses as her mother takes a picture of her then Lindsey instructs her on how to send it. Lindsey holds up her own phone when it chirps and shows her mom the picture that she just sent.

              The cleaning forgotten the two women spend the morning playing with the phones and talking. Gathering up her mom’s coffee cup she starts to leave for the kitchen. Turning around she says,

              “Mom, I am going into the mall today to get some things. Is there anything that you want?” Shaking her head no her mom goes back to playing with the new toy she has finally learned how to use. As Lindsey leaves the room her mom says,

              “I am going to go through the last box there” pointing to the box by the closet door, “and put the remaining stuff away.”
              “OK mom” Lindsey says heading out to the kitchen.

              After a few minutes her crying lessons and she regains some of her composure. Releasing his grip he steps back dropping his arms to his sides. She looks up to him wiping the tears from her eyes.

              “Who are you?” she asks as she again wipes at her eyes with both hands.
              “Why did you do that? How did you do that?” Her big blue still wet eyes wide.
              “You needed some help, you were in pain, and I could help, so I did. Does not matter who I am and the why I cannot explain. I just had to. Do you feel better?”
              “Yes…Yes I do better than I have in many years. I have been sad as long as I can remember. What did you just do?”
              Turning he starts to walk away.
              “Wait,” she says stepping after him and reaching for the back of his shirt.
              “Wait please” she says again. Stopping he again turns towards her.

              “You have carried the pain of the loss of your father most all of your life and everything that you have done or not done is a direct result of that. You have never had a boyfriend for fear that you would lose him like your dad. You have never been close to anyone except your mom and you hold on to her so tightly for the same reason.”

              People are still moving around them as if they were an island alone in the streambed. The voices of the people around are muted and unintelligible to them. No one has bumped them; no one has tried to push between them.

              “What was on the phones screen that pushed you over the edge, what was it that caused you to feel all that pain?” he asks pointing down to the phone at her feet, still lit up even though the screen is shattered.

              “What caused you so much anguish?” Bending at the knees she squats and retrieves the phone from the floor, stands back up looking at the picture distorted by the cracks. She touches the screen for a moment then turns it towards him saying.

              “It’s from mom. I taught her how to use her phone today and to take pictures. She sent me a message that said she had found some old pictures that she wanted to show me. They were forgotten in her bible.”

              He does not look to the picture but continues to look at her face his face showing nothing but calm and reassurance.

              “What caused you to feel so much pain?” he asks again. She turns the phone back so she could see its screen saying.

              “It is a picture of my dad holding me when I was very little, one that I’ve never seen before.” Looking up to him she continues, “When I saw it all the years of missing him came back to me.” Dropping her arm to her side she asks him,

              “What did you do to me?”
              “You will always remember him and you will always miss him. All I did was to take some of the lingering pain away so that you can live your life without that blanket over you, the fear of losing anyone close to you. You can now live without that shadow of fear in losing someone if you get close. That’s all.”

              Turning to leave he says, “Who I am does not matter. You needed help and I could give it. Good bye Lindsey Dunkin, have a great life.” With that he steps into the throng of people as it opens up for him. In an instant he’s gone from sight.

              Lindsey’s phone vibrates and rings. Lifting it she is unable to read any names so she says hello, it’s her mom.

              “No mom, I’m ok really..no I love the picture..yes I want to see it and the others when I get home…No really I’m ok but I have to tell you about something that just happened, something extraordinary.  Really mom I have never felt this good….yes I will be home soon, real soon.  Bye.”
 

*****

              He has been wondering around the park for over an hour now, just walking and waiting for the next call for help that he knows will come soon.

 

JMBlondin

Aug 25, 2015