Monday, September 9, 2013

June has always been lucky.......A short story

“Tell me what you hear?” I slowly closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to remember details that happened in the summer 7 years ago, I whispered

“Well, I’m in the dark; and I can hear five words clearly." I said

I remember the words which had been cut into my memory for 7 long years. “June has always been lucky” I said out loud. “That’s all I heard then everything goes quiet.” opening my eyes.

“Don’t stop! Please continue” he pleaded. I could feel him and his hopefully energy of a breakthrough hovering over me.

“I really don’t want to talk about it anymore!”

“It would really help if you did”

“I just can’t remember anymore!”

“Just take a deep breath and start again” 
I sat up on the couch hesitating, my breath was short for I always hesitated to take the breath before we started again because it was the hardest. I tried summoning the truth or at least the memory of It for it was so tiring and besides I really could never tell if l truly didn’t remember or I just didn’t want to.  
Every week he would attempt to purge my soul of this poison but, to no avail. I was very grateful though that he never gave up. In a world where no one pays attention to anything; a selfish feeling of having someone eager to fix you can easily grow creating an appetite for it.
I wanted to get past this memory and move forward but, in the same breath that invited truth also had a strong anchor of fear attached to it.
The voice storming through the front door glared in his direction. “I have told you time and time again once she is done she should be ready and waiting for me outside on the driveway”
“But, we were making progress” he said. The subtle inflection of anger in his voice struggled to stay calm.
“Every week you two are making damn progress, when can we just forget about this and move on?” I could hear her obvious fear yearning to delegate both of our minds.
“She needs to know the truth, who kidnapped her? Amanda needs to be free of this she needs to remember in order to move on.” he said.
I watched as she searched around for my coat then frantically grabbing my arm and forcing it into my sleeve, I always felt like a rag doll every time she did this.
“Mom, I’m 15 years old I can put on my own coat.” I said.
“You sure as hell can’t tell time for shit for you should have been standing outside ten minutes ago and as for you” She headed towards him waving her index finger in the air.
”I don’t think you’re serving any good purpose here, in fact I think you may be causing more damage to her”
“It doesn’t matter what you think, the time is court appointed.” he snickered as he stepped towards her.
Quiet!” I yelled.
My voice stopped him in his track, I zipped up my coat. “This time is for me so, can we not argue….and just go!?”
My Mother never liked when I spoke up I could see the fear in her eyes whenever I did, it was as if she knew the truth and that one day it would find its way to the surface.  
She stormed her way back through the front door leaving a path of anger for me to follow; she always had a way of ruining the time with my Father.
On the drive home it was the usual routine my Mother bitching and whining about how he can’t let things go, and in the same breath she would happily reminisce about how life was good…before I was born.
She never would shut up on the drive home she would go on and on allowing my imagination to became a useful outlet for her rants. I would picture myself leaning over and opening the driver’s side door, pushing her out; she never did want to wear her seat belt she felting it wrinkled her clothes. 
I never really understood why I was always so angry at her I really didn’t want to hurt her I just wanted her to shut up so I can think.

We pulled into the driveway and the obvious signs of wear and tear of the house welcomed us with a lull breeze. I always wondered why we never moved, the house seemed so inconvenient and out of the way. I could remember my Father begging her to move closer to civilization, not the city, just to a place that had marked roads. My Father always told her “You never know who can get lost up here and find us.”

My Father was and is a peaceful man never looked for trouble and never wanted to find it. Although he himself had an unbridled anger that he kept caged something about childhood. I personal never saw it but Mother feared it. She once said “I pity the person that inappropriately and successfully angers your Father.” They never told me why they got divorced but I believe whatever it is I can’t remember my Mother prefers it that way.
Arriving home then stepping out of the car, the air was welcoming and the singing finches; an oral treat to an abused ear.
“Come on, stop day dreaming and get inside we got things to do!” as my mother headed for the house.
“Like what do we have to do?” I said. She stopped to look at me.
“What did you just say?” she turned to look at me.
And there it was, the fear again that something was trying to surface, it covered her whole face a very unflattering mask of ugly. I watched her as she walked towards me, I could hear the dirt beneath her shoes, tiny stones being grinded into the dirt. She stood close to me I could feel her breath on my face.
“I said, what did you just say?” her voice was stern and low.
“Nothing” I said quietly but in my thoughts I heard myself laughing, I just like to tease her sometimes.
“That’s what I thought, now get your ass inside and find yourself something to do!” she quickly walked to the front door.
I went straight to my room, when I got inside, I choose to clean it.  I think I cleaned my room more than any teenager. It’s like feeding two birds with one seed; I found something constructive to do and I didn’t have to deal with my Mother in my face or space. But that didn’t stop me from hearing The Voice; her insentient complaints and her religious crap all evening every day.  
It was as if she didn’t want me to have any peace, any time to think. She told me once that God said to her that he was protecting me by taking my memory away, so move on cause God knows best.” Only the guilty say such things I heard someone say on TV. I do remember that she suddenly became a permanent righteous hypocrite; condemning my actions and others while being blind to her own. It was soon after that my Father left adding another space of darkness in my mind.
It was the morning that marked a week and the day I was going to see my Father. My Mother was in heavy prayer it was her tradition to speak loudly and passionately when she was praying each time my Father would visit me.  Her voice would echo throughout the house it felt more like she was inviting demons in rather than angels. That’s when a knock rumbled the front door; looking back it must have been God for we never got visitors and it did not sound like my Father’s knock. My Mother's praying stopped not sure if she heard the door.  
The knock came again and this time she signaled me to go upstairs, so I sat on the top stair. My Mother answered the door to see a thin man standing in the door way.
“Karen, is that you?” I heard him say.
“Do I know you?” my mother said.
“It’s me Darien” the stranger replied.
“What the hell are you doing here? How did you find me?” She became visibly aggravated.
“The better question is why are you still living here?” the stranger called Darien said.
“Look, this not the time, I am not the same person, she doesn’t even remember and I want to keep it that way” Each time my mother spoke I slithered a step closer, nosy I guess.
“You mean no one knows you helped?” Darien raised his voice to her.
“Shut up! Not another word. God took her memory, I will never tell her and besides if her Father ever found out he would surely be God’s vengeance”
“I didn’t come to cause any trouble, I just came to say I served my time and at the end of June I’ll be free. It feels like the Universe, God urging me to make peace I have learned my lesson. My probation ends in June I’m going to leave and get out this town, make a new life for myself, I wish you would too”
“Look, Darien what’s done is done, you were young, and me an ignorant Mother; broke, and we made a  bad decision then trouble found us. I have made peace; I’m born again God has delivered me.”  I could see Darien’s half- hearted smile to my Mother.
“Just a few more days and June ends… then freedom” Darien shook her hand ever so lightly and smiled.
My Mother returned the jester and said her parting words June has always been lucky.... for you.
I was now on the bottom step inching my way towards her as those five words surged inside of me then beginning to ring inside my head very clear. Reopening a wound that had been closed for 7 years; unleashing an invisible wave that could be felt instinctively by my Mother.

It was just then my Father’s car pulled up into the driveway. My Mother‘s eyes focused on me as they filled with tears and the mask of fear reappeared. Her heart pounded as she realized my Father; whom she once said she “pitied the person that inappropriately and successfully angers my Father”.
He was now stepping out of his car unaware that his anger that had been caged and waiting for purpose which it found, today. He walked towards the door as my re surging memory leaped past my Mother.  I remember the sound beneath his shoes, tiny stones being grinded into the dirt. My Mother could only watch as I ran toward him saying the words she feared I would say for 7 years……….. “I remember!”

Written by Sona Bingley

Coming Soon ....My story just below...

Wednesday, July 3, 2013


NOW PLAYING....... My life just went verbal
24 hours later I could see shallow light under the door, the sound of chairs breaking against the wall decorated with my Mother’s screams filled the air. It was a storm that had grown silent over the night hours and I wasn’t sure what was on the other side of the bedroom closet door. I was scared; I sat in the corner of the closet waiting for someone to open it but whom. I hadn’t heard voices for a while not my mother’s or his.
I was wary of speaking or even calling out to her because she told me not to say anything until she  returned  “Be quiet!” then she locked the door with me on the inside with only my pajamas on. I sat with the smell of old musty shoes and jackets dangling above my head all night. I was so hungry and cold because I had urinate all over myself and the shoes. She‘s going to kill me me “God take me away from here please” a prayer I said inside my head.
Is she dead? Is he going to come get me? Or I’m I going sit here forever waiting? Being four years old shouldn’t be so hard; I don’t know what to do.
So, I breathe and I wait for to Breathe before the Miracle because when your four that‘s about all you can do.

Follow me and revisit my life, a life that continues on pages in words and reality; a life that created the courage to believe, to inspire, to know that we are all only a Breathe before the Miracle.
NOW PLAYING....... My life just went verbal