A Soft Safe Place

By Tyrone Slothrop

Shock:
    1. A violent collision or impact; a heavy blow.
    2. Something that jars the mind or emotions as if with a violent unexpected blow.
    3. The disturbance of function, equilibrium, or mental faculties caused by such a blow; violent agitation.
    4. A severe offense to one's sense of propriety or decency; an outrage.
    5. A potentially fatal physiological reaction to a variety of conditions, including illness, injury, hemorrhage, and dehydration, usually characterized by marked loss of blood pressure, diminished blood circulation, and inadequate blood flow to the tissues.

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Opening Scene: Doctors Waiting Room

I sat with Carolyn in the waiting room. The panorama of the other patient’s faces ran the gamut of hope to despair. We knew some of them, which made it harder.

 She gripped my hand tightly as we waited for her turn.

We did not know what to expect, but knew the very act of being there was not good. We did know what we feared.

She looked at me in a way I remembered, from long ago.

 “We had some good times, hon.” She said, clearly using her own memories to help her handle the reality facing her.

I’m not sure how I answered that without losing all emotional control, but I did. I remembered when she had that look in her eyes, long ago. In the last soft safe place.

 

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SCENE 1

University Days Apartment

 I always loved the act of rolling my hair. Carolyn had teased me mercilessly the whole time she taught me the basics, and threatened me with fanciful tortures if I ever even mentioned the thought of cutting it.

Unconstrained by the rollers, it would flow to the bottom of my shoulder blades. As I sat at the vanity I imagined the mass of curls I would comb out the next day, and felt a pleasant peace descend on me.

It was Thursday night, the blessed beginning of my usual four day weekend. Four days to wear what I wanted, to visit the soft safe place I had invented.

I shivered as some random sequence of thought brought me back to an earlier life.

****Flash**** Childhood

It was just after the  two significant losses that I began to search for the place to escape. Dad was gone, his heart giving out at last. Mom retreated into herself, her best friend, her companion for over twenty years had let go the tenuous grasp on life.

At twelve , I could not cry, for I did not yet know what I had lost. As the youngest, I was excluded from the family discussions.

All I knew was the world was darker.

And I could not tell anyone what Father Mulligan had done to me.

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SCENE 2

University Days Apartment

The little apartment was right off campus, an easy walking distance. I wanted to be done before Carolyn got off work, so I could make her dinner while she relaxed.

She loved the image of me greeting her after her day of running a cash register at the supermarket, getting her a drink and making her dinner in my satin robe and hair in rollers. It had become our Thursday night ritual, a delightful role reversal that we both enjoyed.

Thursday nights were usually the best sex of the week.

As my hands sectioned, rolled and pinned my freshly washed brown hair I mused over the incident which had triggered those early memories.

****Flash****That Afternoon

Walking from my last class, the Cadillac had stopped, the gentle elderly face had edged out of the drivers window and asked directions to the University Theatre. A complete stranger, lost in the maze of parking lots and roadways.

In the middle of my answer, as I leaned to let an errant strand of hair, suddenly free from my rubber banded pony tail, come free of my face, I saw the clerical collar.

Unbidden but powerful, a feeling of fear and rage swept my body.

Burying the anger and humiliation, I managed to answer his question. He drove off while I stood there, shaking.

After what felt like an hour but was less than a minute, I touched my hair, releasing it from the band. Some comfort returned, and I slowly walked home, enjoying the fall breezes blowing my tresses gently about me.
 

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SCENE 3

University Days Apartment

 My head full of the one inch sponge covered plastic rods, I tightened a few that had come a little too loose. The image in the mirror brought a smile to my lips.

As I cautiously lifted the net over my head to secure it in place, I noticed the softness of my arms. I had lost a lot of muscle mass during my recovery, and with classes and the whole atmosphere of college consuming me, I had little incentive to bulk back up. Those days were behind me. There were others to do that stuff, I was done being a tough guy.

Dying and coming back does that to you.

****Flash****Childhood

Twelve years old and alone.

Dad never talked much , but he was Dad. An anchor, one of the things a young boy counts on. Father Mulligan came to the funeral, offering his condolences, despite Dad being Baptist. Mom was Catholic and we somehow managed to migrate up and down between churches on Sundays.

Mom, not prone to saying much any more, agreed that I should go to the priest for some counseling. At least once a week. The church was her comfort those days, she had nothing else to cling to for strength.

So I went to see the good priest, friend to the neighborhood, pillar of the community, the direct representative of Jesus.

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SCENE 4

University Days Apartment

Electric blue hairnet securing my head full of rollers, I stared into the mirror. A youthful face, sideburns and light beard shaved into non-existence, looked back. The weight gained during the long recovery had actually softened it considerably, the gaunt hollow look now banished.

 

Carolyn had a love-hate relationship with my eyelashes, which she felt were unfairly granted to me. They were long and very full, even without mascara. Makeup was her department if she decided to get playful later that weekend.

 

My sweatshirt and jeans were now thrown into the hamper, laundry chores for later in the weekend. I grabbed the pastel blue robe, a gift from Carolyn and pulled it slowly over me, the satin fabric smoothly touching my skin. I winced from the never-quite fully healed ribs and favored my partially functional right arm.

 

****Flash****Young Adulthood

The smell of the smoldering fire stung my nostrils. I could see the splintered bone sticking out of my skin, the humerus I was to learn later. There was no pain, the body has shock mechanisms to protect it when the trauma is massive.

 

The warm blood soaking my side, draining into my eyes, felt cold. Color vision was replaced by shades of gray.

 

 I could hear the noises, far off explosions of sound as dull thuds while the crew on the scene began to pry open the metal doors of the wreck. Murmured words of “Hang in there buddy” and “You’re doing fine”,  comfort and lies I had used myself.

 

My eyes closed and imagined the soft safe place. It had been years since I wanted to go there.

 

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SCENE 5

University Days Apartment

The wooden floors were always cold and we had decided slippers were cheaper than buying rugs. Pulling on the blue fleece lined booties, I smiled. They always looked like something a cartoon character would wear.

 

Assembling the ingredients, I began chopping, peeling and slicing without thought. Somehow, plates of salad appeared while the chicken sizzled in the frying pan. The luxury was the baguette from the little bakery down the street, a long loaf of unbelievable richness, poised to be heated in the toaster oven.

 

As I sipped the glass of wine, I felt the comfort and contentment suffuse me. Carolyn would be here soon. She had Fridays and Saturdays off, and my classes ran Tuesdays to Thursdays. Two days together, alone. Then the study and jobs would return. We knew this would end, but that was next year. Right now, grants, scholarships, and government programs were a good supplement to living on love.

 

I felt a chill from somewhere in time.

 

****Flash****Childhood

 

Father Mulligan handed me a cassock and surplice. My pants were soaked from the rain and he demanded I get out of the damp things. Our sessions had been quiet affairs, a few questions, a few statements. Lauding my Mother’s family as good folk, quiet disdain for the faith of my Father’s.

 

He watched in commanding silence as I removed my school pants.

 

I  had taken a minimalist approach to verbal communication since Dad died, if only to fit into the silence of my home. Kids at school were initially nice, but drifted away as I withdrew.

 

The cassock was a rough woolen fabric, and was too small. It clung to me, and I had to leave the snaps open up to my thighs, or I would not be able to sit. The surplice was the lace one, usually only used for High Mass, or the funeral of a Bishop.

 

We sat together as he discussed my future. A future of loving God. And God’s messengers.

 

 

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SCENE 6

University Days Apartment

 Dinner was simmering nicely, and I poured another glass of wine. I could no longer feel the tightness of the curlers tugging at my scalp. I absentmindedly patted my head, letting my hand settle gently on the netting. My eyes closed for a moment.

 

I reached inside my robe and adjusted my panties, fixing the twist that had worked into the elastic. They were large enough for me, not very constraining at all, but a little loose in the rear.

 

****Flash****Childhood

With Mom working now I was frequently alone after school.

The silences  were eating me alive by inches, so I wandered about the house, looking for something,  someplace. I was not sure what.

My sister reacted to the silence at home by being absent. I rarely saw her. We were never close and were now immensely distant.

So alone, silently shaking, that day I decided to explore my sister’s closet. There were several unwanted boxes of hand me down clothes from our cousins. She hated them and had thrown them in the corner.

The cigarette burn on my arm was still oozing, even after three days. I made sure I kept it from ruining the clothes.

The first thing to try was a skirt, just to see what it felt like. An elastic waist made it easy to put on.  

I felt a pleasant sensation as it swirled about my legs while I walked.

My hair was just over my ears at that point, and there were lots of barrettes and hair bands in the unwanted boxes.

My eyes closed. It was a soft safe place. I felt a calmness descend, enveloping me like a blanket.

 

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SCENE 7

University Days Apartment

 Carolyn grabbed me from behind and pulled me into her. I felt her lips nuzzling my neck as I came back to awareness of where I was.

I turned slowly and my heart melted. Just a little plumper than a few years ago, a little rounder, fuller but the same sparkling eyes and devilish smile, the same overwhelmingly genuine happiness to just see me.

“You did these nicely, hon. Is your arm feeling better?” she said, patting my head.

“It’s fine, and it’s your turn after I feed you. The forecast is for rain all day tomorrow so I thought we’d stay in.”

“Good, I need the exercise.” Carolyn added, reaching inside my robe and grabbing a handful of lace and tricot.

****Flash****Childhood

Father Mulligan had me kneeling in his office as he approached me. The cassock and surplice were now a regular part of the session. Other boys had made some cryptic remarks to me about the priest, but I was puzzled by their meaning.

The touch of his hands on my back became a regular event.

I was there because Mom thought it was the right thing. And she worked so hard, cleaning houses now that Dad’s income was gone.

I was destined to be part of the church, I was told.

Events began to blur at that point, the priest pushing his body against my face, his hands on my hair, stroking it gently. Questions, always the questions, Did I Love God? Doesn’t God love me?

He unzipped his fly and thrust it at me.

In my struggling pulling away, the Camel in his fingers pressed into my arm, searing the flesh with it’s hot ash.

Eyes winced closed but emitting no sound, I got up to leave.

Father Mulligan’s eyes followed me. He knew I would say nothing.

He was a messenger. He had faith.

Only the damned rejected communion.

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SCENE 8

University Days Apartment

The warm bath water was intensely pleasurable, the feel of two bodies intertwined, soaking the week’s demands away. Dinner over, and kitchen cleaned, I was kneading Carolyn’s right foot while she giggled.

Ticklish but wanting the massage, like a moth to a flame.

Her hairnet was purple, covering her tightly set red hair.

She tenderly touched my right arm at the elbow. The cigarette burn scar had been removed by the broken shards of bones penetrating my skin, replaced by a complex pattern of new scars.

I looked at her and knew this particular soft safe place was coming to a close. A few more months at best, and then we would have to move on.

Maybe I would need it again.

****Flash Forward**** Another Doctors Office

I held Carolyn as we walked to the car. She was trembling in my arms and it was contagious. The world around us seemed to recede, time and consciousness became fluid.

The sight of tearful couples clinging to each other was commonplace at the clinic. No one disturbed us. We looked in each other’s eyes and saw memories.

The last two years had shredded our emotional life, each of us individually reaching an accommodation with the surrounding darkness while together blowing at the embers of the desire to survive.

The first year of this arduous journey had sapped my balance.  I had created soft, safe places before. My sister’s closet, those apartment weekends.

I found another place.

Stories began to flow to the screen. Young boys with amazing adventures, Heroes who saved the innocent.  Victims who fought back. Loving couples who endured.

The new soft, safe place was extensive yet somehow intimate, with new friends, friends with amazing courage and compassion. People who followed their heart despite the pain of change.

She’s asleep now. I have to go now and tell them the news.

She’s still with me. I didn’t lose her.

END

 

since 09/24/04