Involution
___________
Knock on the door. He answers.
She steps in, hopeful... but already
feeling strangely.
She knows herself, knows
what kind of pattern she slips into
in situations such as this...
and she recognizes the signs
already. Now
what has she done to elicit
the puzzled look
he gives her?
...she realizes that a familiar
paralyzing pattern has begun. Can't think.
Can't speak. Can't do. Her mind is erecting
a huge protective isolating
barrier around her. A box.
In which she is safe. In which she is...
Once upon a time this box had a use. That was
long ago, when she (for the first time)
realized what damage a human can do.
What damage, with huge soul-shredding fangs.
After the first gouge with shock and inward screams
she willed the box into being. Inward.
Never outward. Never. Outward.
For a long while, the box made her survival possible.
But now...the box is too small. It has become
a trap. Ten thousand million words hurl themselves
against its walls in an effort to escape. No.
They fall to the boxfloor, stunned. Ten thousand
million actions are aborted. The box
will not allow them to be born...
The night continues. They
are walking, talking of
nothing, really.
...she wants him to understand. She wants him
to possess a vision capable of drilling through
the opaque walls of the thing that contains her...
See, she thinks. See. See. See. Please
see me inside of here. I cannot reach out,
I do not yet have the strength to claw
my way out of this box. You must
See.
But he does not see. Of course...
They sit. He
maintains a cautious distance.
She is aware of this.
...because over the years she has
taught herself how to control her fear,
to all outward appearances. Over the years
she has managed to paint illusive pictures
on the six sides of her box, and these
are what he sees. Pleasing two dimensional
pictures. Flat.
So
she wonders... does he think that I AM
this box?
I am not. I am not. I am
Not.
She begins to beat against the walls
of the box. I am not this box. I am not.
This box. Not.
Not this box.
A crack. A word escaping.
Another. Another. Another. She is...
trying. But she is failing. Not failing to communicate
entirely, just failing to communicate anything
that he can understand. He apprehends vaguely now
the existence of something within the box,
but is aware only of that thing's complete and utter
strangeness...
She has crossed his line.
In an attempt to be polite
he tells her he's enjoyed
the night, but has
an early morning appointment
tomorrow...
He wants no part of her strangeness.
It unsettles him. What he had thought was her
was not her... what he had thought was her
was in reality only a container for something
which is to him completely... alien
He really must go now, he says. he really
Must. Must go. Now. She stands...
And
not speaking of much at all
they walk along a wall
of virtual silence...
he on one side, she
on the other.
Now, a door again. Hers.
Stay in the box, he tells her. With his every
movement and reaction, he tells her:
Stay in.
It's killing me, she doesn't tell him, although
she so wants to. She wants to rip her
prison to shreds with a huge, huge dagger
So that she can breathe
Outside...again. But she...
she only smiles, and turns from him.
Confused, he retreats. She
refuses to hear the sound
of him moving away
hurriedly down the street.
_________________________
l.gardner
(posted Sept. 1994)