Buried Roots

Buried Roots

            As the deep, monotonous voice faded into foggy oblivion, the achingly familiar scenery of his childhood home flooded into his mind. He was sitting under the coffee table, his preferred fortress, playing idly with the new soldier kit he had received for his seventh birthday. Their spacious apartment was fairly silent except for the muffled noises he made to imitate the ferocious fight of the plastic figures and the occasional turning of pages showing his mother’s progress with one of those fancy lady magazines. Nothing seemed amiss with the picture they made as this peaceful scenario was fairly common in the Dashwood household.

            Suddenly, the doorbell rang, breaking the quite idyll with its annoying sing-song buzz. His attention immediately shifted to his mother. He couldn’t help watching her as she uncrossed her long, beautiful legs and gracefully stood up to see to their visitor. He loved observing her. Her willowy figure, slim albeit delightfully curvy in all the right places, was always dressed in a tasteful, formfitting elegance that spoke of an understated wealth. Her skin, unblemished by age or the harshness of reality, was of the purest alabaster hue. Her delicate, heart-shaped face was framed by her lush, cascading hair which shined with a lively copper color. Though, above everything else, he adored her eyes, those two bright cerulean gems, which sparkled with gentle love and a good natured humor. In his mind and heart, his mother was the single most beautiful creature in the world. He clearly remembered his mother that day as her beauty was adorned and accented by the descending sun that peeked through the large windows of their living room. As she made her way to the door, he admired her graceful movements, a floating dance that seemed unearthly to him, the clumsy boy, who was forever bound by the cruelty of gravity.

            The door revealed a large mass of a body, beheaded by the wooden table he was playing under. He couldn’t see much, but it was enough to make his mouth turn down in a slighting sneer. She was robust; her worn, baggy clothes frugally hung on her considerable frame and the dirt and strains were clearly visible on the cheap fabric. The skin of her hands was of a brownish, ugly shade, and he imagined it would have felt callous if one cared to touch it. The contrast between her mother and this strange visitor seemed nearly vulgar in its obtrusiveness. He disliked the woman on sight and he instinctively felt that she had no place in their world.

“What are you doing here?” Asked her mother and he was taken aback by the cold edge that crept into her mother’s usually gently tilted voice. “We had a deal and it has been sealed a long time ago.”

“A long time ago, you say. Six years to this day, if you remember” drawled the stranger. Her voice, so raw that it nearly had a texture itself, made him wince. The hard r-s and the alien sounding s-es crawled up his back, and in their way, the hair stood up straight. And there was something else, something intangible that unnerved him greatly. He wanted the stranger gone.

“What do you want,” his mother demanded, her unusually callous demeanor strangely in contrast with her voice that lacked any strength as it quivered with emotion. He found himself scrambling backwards, instinctively seeking the safety of his hiding place.

“I just want to see him, my boy” cried the women and made a step towards his mother while her hands flailed threateningly as if to push her away from the doorway. He watched in awe as her mother stood her ground, like an angel, a heroic guardian, with her back straight and her head held high.

“You forfeited every right you had when you gave up your… claim on him. You were duly compensated for your troubles and we even took your… unfortunate situation into consideration,” her mother stammered breathlessly, then, as if to convince herself as much as the stranger, she added with a much steadier voice. “A deal is a deal. Now you must go and never come back!”

At her words, a strangled sob escaped from the monstrous woman. “Please, please, just let me see him! Just for a moment… I… I have to…. Please… He’s mine… my… Please!” she begged, but for what, he could not understand. He hugged his soldiers close to his thin, heaving chest in a desperate hope that they would protect him from this wailing creature.  He was terrified that this woman would take him away even though he was not even sure how this fear had entered his soul.

            Suddenly, the door of the study banged open and his father strode into the room with his usual assertive gait. He stepped in front of his mother and with his hand he motioned her in the direction of his hidden fortress. “This is quite enough” his said with his deep, resounding voice while his mother crouched down to his level to pick him up. “Leave us and our son alone. The deal is done, you must never come back!”

As her mother guided his face to her soft breasts, he placed his hand onto the elegant arch of her neck. His heart constricted painfully at the disquieting contrast between his caramel colored paws and his mother’s pure marble skin. He buried his face more deeply into his mother’s chest while he did his best to block out this newfound feeling of insecurity as well as the strangled sobs that were still coming from the doorway.

            He found himself bolting up into a half sitting position. Shaken and slightly shanking, he put his legs onto the ground and scooched to the very edge of the soft leather couch. While he tried to bring his breathing back to a regular order, he carefully avoided the other men’s gaze he so keenly felt on himself.

“Well?” enquired Dr. Weiss patiently.

“Well what?” he all but spat back harshly. His cloth hung onto his sweaty body and he could barely hear anything from his still wildly beating heart.

“Your journey, Bruno” Dr. Weiss reminded him gently, though they both knew he hardly needed the prompting. “You said you were sure that you had memories of your birth mother and you wanted to know the truth about her. Ever since you parents died you have been coming here to uncover this mystery. Have you managed to finally remember?”

“No… nothing. Your hypnosis failed.”

“Really?” asked the older man, his scrutiny unnerving even through the old-fashioned spectacles he wore. “For me it seemed quite successful.” As Bruno continued to opt for silence, the good doctor went on. “It is alright to be upset after such revelations. You must not be ashamed to feel or to hold back. I am here to help you.”

Bruno gritted his teeth; he hated being patronized. While the rational part of him was aware that what he had interpreted as condescension was probably true sympathy in the doctor’s soft voice, still, he could not help the beginning of a grudge towards the man. After all, he was the one who triggered this great distress in Bruno, even if he had not been the original cause of it.

“It failed.” He repeated brusquely. After a strained pause and the unbearable pressure of the doctor’s all-knowing stare, he amended. “Maybe next time.”

Dr. Weiss thoughtfully cocked his head to one side, then, with a slight harrumph, he replied without much conviction. “Next time it is, then.”