Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Peeling?



As if racing, I beat the coffee maker to full steam. Shame, rooted deep in 150 years of ancestral history, was an emotion I was ill equipped for. My default, anger, helped me cope by casting blame. It was “de-fault” of so and so or this, that, and the other. The digits of both my hands, filling with adrenaline saturated blood, convulsed, seized, and balled into fists. My teeth hurt from jamming together so long.

Why was I refusing to answer? I mean really?  Why did being asked to explain myself enrage me?

Clay, barely awake and smacking his lips, chose laying his head on the table over the former chin-on-chest position. Gal, tired of waiting on me, got up and found Clays raggedy robe. Affectionate in her eyes, she laid it over his shoulders. She filled our coffee cups and for all of a minute I, so conflicted, envisioned pounding her skull with my shillelaghs of flesh.

Wiping her hands on the apron bound tightly around her stocky waist, she sat down. Eyes warm with compassion met mine as she reached over and placed her right hand on the fist of my left hand. Literally deflated and letting out a long toxic breath, I was mystified by the sudden loss of anger. I felt it peel from my heart.

For the first time since being back I noticed Clay’s old bible. It usually paid lot rent on the nightstand beside his bed but must’ve gotten evicted. It lay open on the counter behind Gal and was keeping the coffee maker company. The word Revelations boldly met my focus and I had a revelation of my own. 

Removing my relaxed hand from beneath His Favorite Gals I patted her knee and went for my coffee mug. Lazy wisps of white drifted up from the coffee’s hot surface. Pointing to them, I commented quietly.

“Look Gal, coffee dreams. Okay, I’ll answer you about my experience with Aura. I just realized something about myself after you touched my hand, lifted my lid as if I was hot pan, and let all my steam out. I’m afraid of losing control and being controlled. When I feel like that is happening I get mad. Been like that my whole life and don’t know why.”

Crossing arms before her on the table and looking concerned, Gal leaned toward me. She had the knowing look in her eyes again as if relating to my issue. 

“Okay, I get your point but give me Aura,” said Gal.

“Alright then, here it goes.” Trembling slightly, I put my mug down after taking a drink.

“Gal, when Clay, Aura, dammit.” I rubbed my head. “When she touched me I had no control. I became a puppet of sorts. I was me but not. I was young again and dancing at Pow-Wow. Now I’m telling you, it wasn’t a flashback or memory. I was there, time travel. I became someone else, me, but still...”

A twinkle danced across Gal’s eyes. Clay snorted and tipped his head. For a moment, pressure flattened wrinkles made Clay appear younger. Ironic considering what I’d said earlier. Looking to her lover, His Favorite Gal responded. 

“Migizi, when Aura takes hold of my Wheel Boy he can heal people with a touch. Seen it myself. I asked Aura about it. She’s real smart Ain’t It, yah, for bein’ about age 12. Said Francis gave her the gift.”

“Oh jeez Gal, the damned bug?”

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