Only Time - 2 of 3

Printer-friendly version
article-0-02F2097D000005DC-950_468x312.jpg




Cold as the northern winds
In December mornings,
Cold is the cry that rings
From this far distant shore.

Winter has come too late
Too close beside me.
How can I chase away
All these fears deep inside?

The face in the mirror looked about as pretty as its owner could recall while the woman inside felt about as ugly asa she ever had. The anger that had raised up inside her the past few days was nothing compared to the self-hatred that remained in its nestle; a not-so-friendly reminder of her beginnings and disappointing existence. She struggled in that void between love and loathing as dreams and wishes continued to be deferred while she forged ahead without a plan. It had to be good just to be a woman, even if she was a woman who had no real regard for herself.

* * *

A while later...at work...

“Good afternoon,” Dar said to the woman sitting by herself. A rare moment alone, Dar wondered where Dave might be, since Marge rarely if ever came to the diner alone. She smiled warmly and placed a glass of ice water on the table in front of Marge, confident that things would be as they always were while lamenting the sad same routine. Marge stuck out her hand suddenly and touched Dar’s wrist.

“It’s always the eyes, Miss,” she said softly. Dar pulled her hand back quickly and went to turn.

“The windows of the soul. They never lie even if we fib now and then, Dardie.” Dar shuddered at the familiar if long forgotten name. She bit her lip, fearing what might have been the worst moment in Darien’s short life. Marge smiled and nodded eagerly, which however intended, still caused Dar to shake nervously. Another attempt at escape was met by a firm grip pulling her closer.

“We shared a crib, remember?” Dar bit her lip again and tears came to her eyes.

“Dardie….it’s okay…Dave doesn’t know. At least I think he doesn’t.” She giggled a bit at the tease, but Dar didn’t hear the last words as she pulled away and ran into the kitchen. A moment later a frail figure stepped behind her as she wept, standing at the back door of the diner’s kitchen. Arms wrapped around her and hugged her, sending her over the edge as she began to sob.

“Shhhh…..it’s okay. I understand,” words that seemed almost foreign to Dar; only a few people in her lifetime admitted to that; her therapist and her surgeons and a very small handful of friends. Even Marge had pushed her away the last time they met as siblings. So many years had gone by; fear and doubt fueled by unkind words exchanged from both of them. How could her sister understand; she wasn’t even ‘her’ sister, so to speak, since Marge had been Darren’s twin and not hers. Thanks to her facial 'rearrangements,' there wasn’t even a family resemblance any longer… Except for the eyes… those same eyes that stared back in disbelief when they last spoke. Eyes that no longer loved but rejected; angry, ignorant…sad eyes.

I'll wait the signs to come.
I'll find a way
I will wait the time to come.
I'll find a way home.

* * *

The two sat at a booth in the back; Candy took over Dar’s area for the remainder of the shift. Marge held her hands across the table and spoke softly.

“Honey, I knew the first time we came in here. You were flitting by and I asked for some lemon for my tea and you said, ‘No problem, Ma’am.’ Like when you used to imitate that waitress at the Jamaican Café when we were little. Funny how things work out.” She laughed softly and Dar’s face turned red.

“Oh honey…” Marge looked away; no amount of playful banter would soothe the uneasy guilt she felt. She patted Dar’s wrist and swallowed hard.

“I am … so sorry.” She looked away again, afraid to face her own brother…her sister.

“I wish I could say it was just because we were young and that I didn’t understand. Marge shrugged her shoulders, but the look on her face invited the anger that had been pent up in Dar’s heart. She went to pull away but Marge would have none of that. She spun Dar around and their eyes ‘met,’ as the saying goes. No passing glance or gazing downward, Dar’s stare practically went through Marge.

“I am…Daddy and Mommy….you know what it was like… I could never do enough to please them.”

“But…” The words stuck in the back of Dar’s throat and she shook her head; angry at herself for hiding for so long and furious with the inexcusable way Marge had treated her. As frail as Marge was, Dar still wanted to shake her; beg her to explain why.

“I….” Too much sorrow between the two of them; years of wasted time seemed to mock both sisters as Dar realized how much she hated and loved Marge at the same time. She stared at the weak figure in her arms and was overwhelmed with guilt; had her bitterness led to Marge’s illness? She shook her head, wishing she could roll back the years and hold the girl she grew up with; her baby sister, if by only separated by several minutes.

Marge hesitated again, the words choked in the back of her throat. She looked up slightly into Dar’s eyes…the same eyes that smiled when the two were young and filled with joy. The same eyes that wept at a horrific parting too long ago to frame within the perspective of new meanings and ideas, and too recent to forget the pain that brought those tears forth….

My light shall be the moon
And my path - the ocean.
My guide the morning star
As I sail home to you.

* * *

Several years before...

“You what?” Marge shook her head; an almost violent reaction to Darren’s news.

“I…I’ve come to the conclusion…” He put his head down; her tone already said everything he needed to hear even if the words were few and seemingly benign. His lip quivered at the thought of the rejection that was underway; a feeling of hopelessness that he had feared, and rightfully so. No one knew Marge better than anybody…anybody that is but her new husband Dave.

“Conclusion just about says it all, Dardie…” Marge shook her head; bitter, ignorant tears streamed down her face. How could her brother turn his back on his faith and his family? How could he embrace something so foreign; such a weird, wicked view that seemed to embrace such wicked, foolish ideas.

“You’re choosing to end your life for a folly!” Folly? Who even used that term any more? Darren continued, but his voice had modulated to a soft, almost feminine whisper.

“I…My life will end if I don’t do this, Margie. I can’t keep this up…it’s more than a charade. I could…”

“Don’t you dare! Mommy and Daddy love you, and…. Just don’t!” The prospect of suicide was only important in how it might affect the family; never mind the loss of her twin. Darren put his head down once again; feeling ashamed seemed to be a habit with him. He hated his life. He hated his gender….rather, he hated the gender to which he had been imprisoned, so to speak. And he hated that his love was not only misplaced, but forever thwarted by the loss to another. He raised his head only slightly, the voice still soft and high, but with a tremble.

“I could just kick myself for keeping it up. I’ve been so good for so long that you and Mommy and Daddy believe the old lie instead of me. I’m telling you, Margie. This is who I am.”

“No…you’re my brother…you’re not some thing…somebody else. I don’t have a sister. Stop it! Stop it now, Dar…” Her voice trailed off and she dissolved into tears; selfish, perhaps because they only wept for what she felt she was losing without a thought of whom she might lose. The one person Darren felt he could trust was proving how foolish that trust had been.

“I’m not claiming anything but who I am, Margie. Please.” By now, both were weeping.

“I think you should leave.” Marge turned her back on Darren; a gesture that would prove to be devastating for both of them and their parents as Darren took her words far beyond their intent and moved away; never to return at least in the way that any of them would recall. Neither parent would ever see their son again, and never got to meet their ‘other’ daughter in the intervening years before they passed on; both in the same year and both to the same dreaded affliction that would come to apprehend their younger child.

My light shall be the moon
And my path - the ocean.
My guide the morning star
As I sail home to you.

* * *

The present...

“Dardie?” Marge looked up into Dar’s eyes. A pouty frown accompanied Dar’s tears and she shook her head as if to say, ‘Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it.’ She turned away, which evoked a weak tug on her sleeve. She turned back to face Marge. How did she get so frail? Marge took a deep but raspy breath before speaking again; the whispers coming from her lips instead of Dar’s this time.

“I am so sorry. You have every right to hate me. Please don’t hate Mommy and Daddy?” She pled on behalf of their parents; voices stilled by time and distance and another plane of existence. What difference did it make now? Who would benefit, since their ears no longer heard and their eyes…eyes that chose to be blind…now were sightless anyway.

“We….they thought you were dead. You didn’t write….you never said a word.” It might have sounded like a rebuke but for the welcome in her expression and the continued stream of tears.

“They…. They had no way to tell you how sorry they were, Dardie…. I am so sorry.” Once again, Marge felt the need to intervene. She placed her hand in Dar’s and squeezed; the grip was weak and Marge winced with pain. How long did she really have? How did she get so small?

“They could have…“ Dar shook her head at the thought of the decision being so far removed from the present. Whatever they could have done or said was beyond their parent’s ken; as angry and hurt as she was, she still wanted to believe that they had passed on to a better place.

“They did, Dardie…in their own way. Mommy…when they realized how wrong they were, Mommy prayed every night for you to know….I’m so sorry…” Dar thought about the irony; a faith finally exercised in faith; believing the best for their other child long after it was possible to be a part of their other child’s life. It was her turn to weep bitterly; the sudden sobbing startled Marge enough to shake her. The forgiveness and the search for forgiveness both came too late to realize in this lifetime and it was too much for Dar to bear. She turned slightly away and leaned against the wall as her grief took her. Marge felt helpless; she leaned against the back of the booth, wondering if her plan would succeed. She had every intention of atoning for her sins, but her disease might take its toll before she could see her sister blessed.

Forgiveness seemed to be lost to both in the midst of each other’s pain; both of them wanted to forgive while neither felt worthy enough to be forgiven. But that was just it; Marge needed to forgive herself first before she could receive the forgiveness her sister offered. And while Dar finally was coming to grips with how bitter she had become, the residual effects of her decisions remained; she was unable to grab onto the love her sister had tried to bestow because in the years in between their last words, she had come to a place of self-loathing and disappointment. What would heal her? One might say that only time would tell, but time was about to accelerate, and healing was on the way.

I'll wait the signs to come.
I'll find a way
I will wait the time to come.
I'll find a way home.

Who then can warm my soul?
Who can quell my passion?
Out of these dreams - a boat
I will sail home to you.

To be concluded...



Exile
words and music by
Roma Ryan and
Eithne Ná­ Bhraoná¡in
Performed by
Eithne Ná­ Bhraoná¡in
(Enya)

up
47 users have voted.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos! Click the "Thumbs Up!" button above to leave a Kudos

Comments

A Bit of a Mystery For Sure

littlerocksilver's picture

I wonder what it is, the affliction that took her parents, and is consuming her sister. You have shown hints of hope, though. I think there is a mental as well as physical cure in the offing.

Portia

Who would heal her?

"Forgiveness seemed to be lost to both in the midst of each other’s pain; both of them wanted to forgive while neither felt worthy enough to be forgiven. But that was just it; Marge needed to forgive herself first before she could receive the forgiveness her sister’s forgiveness. And while Dar finally was coming to grips with how bitter she had become, the residual effects of her decisions remained; she was unable to grab onto the love her sister had tried to bestow because in the years in between their last words, she had come to a place of self-loathing and disappointment. What would heal her? "

Who indeed?

Lovely stuff sis.

DogSig.png

What Can One Say About Family?

They are just people like everyone else. You didn't choose any of them and none of them really chose you. Some people are good, if they are in your family, even better. If some in the family treat a family member badly, that member can use all er powers of persuasion, appealing to love, etc., to change those and stop their damage. At some point, however, one has to stop beating er head against a concrete wall, in order not to self-harm. I'd say to leave them alone in order not to hurt or be hurt.

I had pretty good luck with my family. My dad was all upset by my transition; I had hoped to use science and logic to get him to see my point of view; he was very intelligent. However, the last time I saw him, 8 months into my RLT, he had Alzheimer's; I couldn't really talk to him. He went back to VA from AZ and his ALz just got worse. My mom had some mental problems no one could get her to talk about; they were probably related to my depression in some way. She sort of accepted me, but sort of didn't. Pretty soon, she had Alz, too. Both my sibs are fine and continue to be loving. At the time of dad's death in '98, I had an uncle and aunt on my mom's side. Dad's brother and sister and mom's other brother had died. I don't think Mom's older sister would be accepting, we've never communicated, but her brother, who I used to visit when I was in college or lived in New England, was very accepting as were his 2 sons, I don't know about their older only sister. The one surviving child of Dad's brother is also very accepting. Dad's sister's kids never got along with anyone in my family, never wanted to know us, so I don't know where they're at.

Hugs and Bright Blessings,
Renee

Oh Drea...

This one is painfully sad, sad in the fact that so much precious time was lost do to anger and an inability to understand. I hope that these two sisters can forgive each other and not waist what little time is left. I love how you tell this one, though it be sad. Thanks for continueing it. (Hugs) Taarpa

This is much more...

betterer than that fake plastic crap brand X poopie that flows from magic port-a-potties trailing agnostic genitalia and passionless fruit filled with bloodless seeds. In one massive cohesive swipe of your literary scythe you've severed the fetid tendril of a massive spasmodic sebaseous pustule whilst managing to whip up this tasty morsel. A little more celentro would give it an extra little zip!

Foreveringlyness...

Soooooooo

Oh yea...I baaaaaack!!!