| General Fiction posted January 17, 2022 | Chapters: |
...12 13 -14- 15... 
|
  |
Brother Archer visits Dawn.
A chapter in the book Concertina
Time to Pray.
by Yardier
| Background Lee Morason is a Vietnam veteran with the aftereffects of combat clouding his view of life. He avoids the symptoms and denies he is heading to a psychological and spiritual break down. |
A knock on the door stirred Dawn from her sleep.
An unfamiliar voice inquired, "Mrs. Morason?" "Mrs. Morason, I have coffee and bagels."
Dawn looked at the door, trying to recognize the muffled voice, but her sleepy brain came up with nothing. Intending to take her mind off Lee by reading this month's issue of 'Gardening Life,' she had fallen into a deep sleep after curling up in a plush recliner.
"Just a minute," she said with a sleepy voice, barely hiding her annoyance at being awakened.
She stood slowly on stiff legs as the magazine slipped from her lap onto the floor bending several pages backward.
It annoyed her—what a way to start the day. She shuffled to the door while straightening her casual sweats and peered through the security eyepiece.
"KNOCK, KNOCK!
Startled, Dawn stepped back. "What?"
"Mrs. Morason, I…"
Dawn leaned forward and tried to peer through the lens. "Who are you. What do you want?"
"I'm Brother Archer, a friend of Lee."
Dawn closed one eye and opened the other eye larger to see more clearly through the hazy lens. Still, she could barely make out a distorted cowboy hat with what looked like steel wool protruding from beneath it. "I don't know you," she said as she stepped a little closer to the door.
"I'm Pastor of the Derby Acres Free Will Methodist Church." Brother Archer smiled and held the cardboard carry box up to the lens so Dawn could see the coffee and bagels. "I thought you might like some company."
Dawn pinched her cheeks, fluffed her hair, and opened the door cautiously. She planted her foot firmly behind the door just in case Brother Archer, or whoever he was, tried some kind of funny business.
"Hungry?" Brother Archer asked.
"A little," Dawn said as she gave Brother Archer the once over. She had never seen a half-black, half-Japanese, or Chinese cowboy before.
"Lee stopped by the church and wanted to talk." Brother Archer gave his sincerest warm smile. "I thought you might want to talk too."
Dawn kept her foot firmly planted. "Why should I want to talk to you?"
"Because he told me he wanted to go back to Vietnam."
"He told you that?" Dawn relaxed her foot.
"Yes," Brother Archer answered. "Listen, I probably should have called first. But, if this is the wrong time, please take the coffee and bagels, and we can talk later when you feel up to it."
"Did he tell you why?"
Brother Archer cleared his throat. "He said he thought he might have fathered a child."
Dawn's knees buckled, and her hand slipped from the doorknob as she clutched the edge of the door for support.
"Mrs. Morason?" Brother Archer asked with concern.
Dawn regained her composure and stepped back while opening the door. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm a little out of sorts right now."
"I understand," Brother Archer said while stepping carefully through the doorway.
Dawn shut the door quietly while eyeing Brother Archer. "You're not Chinese, are you?"
"No, Amerasian." Brother Archer handed the coffee carrier to Dawn, took his cowboy hat off, and hung it on the doorknob. "Half Vietnamese, half American and fully washed by the Blood of the Lamb."
Dawn sipped her coffee. "You're a real pastor?"
"Yes, mam, a servant of God eager to do His will."
"And His will for today is to bring me coffee and bagels at seven in the morning?" Dawn asked.
"That, and comfort and hopefully clarity. It's not every day a man says he wants to leave his wife to go to Vietnam to look for a child that may or may not exist."
"You get right to the point, don't you?"
"I think we're all better off when everything is out in the open, don't you?" Brother Archer looked past Dawn at a painting on the wall.
Dawn handed Brother Archer his coffee and tried to see what he found curious about a typical furniture store painting. "I don't know. Sometimes I think its best certain things go unsaid or, at least, left behind."
"Even the truth?" Brother Archer leaned forward and examined the painting with interest.
"The truth can be hurtful and damaging." Dawn looked into her coffee and wished it had more cream and sugar.
Brother Archer stepped around Dawn. "See this black stripe, this long dark shadow at the bottom? I don't mean to ignore you, but it caught my eye right away. It looks like it doesn't make any sense. Here's a blue sky with bold mountain peaks white-capped with snow and a waterfall cascading through a lush green forest into a lake as still as a mirror nestled in a meadow filled with colorful springtime blossoms. This painter is very talented and clever too."
"Clever?"
"Yes, see how the painter blended a dark shadow along the bottom to match the matting?" Brother Archer stepped aside.
Dawn stepped closer and examined the painting. "It's a tree. It's a big dead tree or log! Yes, I see it. I hadn't noticed it before now. You're right, very clever, but why?"
"It's an event. I think the painter never intended the image to be a moment captured in time. Instead, he illustrated a process, a continuous process of growth. Look closely; see those little shadows within the larger shadow?" Brother Archer pointed at the dead log.
Dawn leaned forward.
Brother Archer continued. "Decaying bark, peat, mushrooms, and look there at that knarled rotting branch. It looks like a troll's bony hand reaching from a darker shadow."
Dawn was troubled by the image of the hand.
Brother Archer scratched his afro. "The painter could be illustrating that both landscapes exist simultaneously with equal importance. Most people would admire the valley's beauty and avoid acknowledging the darkness below. However, I think the painter knows human nature quite well and painted what appears to be a troll's bony hand reaching up to the valley."
"That changes the whole painting. It's as if in that beauty, a beast is lurking to pull the viewer into a darker world." Dawn was alarmed and began to wish she'd never seen the hand.
"Or someone wants help with being pulled out of the muck and mire." Brother Archer turned to Dawn. "It could go one way or the other."
"How so?" Dawn finished her coffee and crumpled the cup in her hand.
"The hand could pull someone out of the valley into darkness, or someone already in darkness wants to be pulled into the valley. I think the painter is challenging the viewer to examine the contrast of both landscapes to better understand where they stand amid God's creation."
Dawn turned from the painting and walked across the room thoughtfully. She threw the crumpled cup into a wastebasket and picked up the copy of 'Gardening Life.' She smoothed the creased pages and placed the magazine carefully beside her purse on the floor. She spoke to the wall in front of her, "I've looked at that painting many, many times and wished I lived in that meadow. I deserved to live in that meadow, you know, happy and free, surrounded by beauty. That’s what I thought. I never considered someone needed help or even that a bog existed."
Brother Archer watched an exhausted woman organize items around a well-used, comfortable, easy chair. He listened with compassion.
"I've been selfish for a very long time." Dawn turned and faced Brother Archer. "I feel guilty and responsible for his silence. I should have helped him."
"How's he doing?" Brother Archer asked.
"That's the question, isn't it? Unfortunately, I don't have a clue."
"He hasn't spoken to you?"
"Nope, not a word. He barely talked to the doctor. Lee just stared at him. I told the doctor what Lee said about Vietnam, how he thought he'd fathered a child.
"The doctor asked him about the woman, her name, and if he knew whether she still lived in Saigon. I guess they call it Ho Chi Minh city now. Lee told him he saw her at the shop. The doctor asked him if, he was positive. I could tell by Lee's face he was angry. The next thing I know, he really did shut up. The doctor asked him many questions about Vietnam, Agent Orange, and whether he killed the enemy. Lee just stared at the doctor as if he wasn't even there."
"Did Lee try to leave?" Brother Archer asked.
"No, the doctor called for a nurse, and a short while later, she arrived with a wheelchair, syringe, and medicine. Lee didn't acknowledge her and didn't protest when the doctor and nurse helped him into the wheelchair. He didn't even bat an eye when the nurse swabbed his arm and injected him with the medicine. An orderly came in with one of those bags of water, and while he was hooking Lee up, the doctor stepped to my side. He whispered Lee was seriously dehydrated, needed rest, and needed time to recover and sort things out. He also said it was likely Lee was beginning to experience something called Delirium Tremens combined with Hypnopompic hallucinations caused by PTSD and alcoholism. I had no idea what he was talking about, and before I could ask him, the nurse and orderly wheeled Lee out of the office."
"I caught up with them and followed them to his room. I was surprised, it was a nice single room. The nurse asked me to step out and give them a little time; they were going to give him a sponge bath and gown and get him into bed."
Dawn paused then said, "I was exhausted, so I went down to the cafeteria to eat and rest. And rest I did. I dozed off in the corner, well, fell asleep really, for about thirty minutes or so. It had been a long terrible day."
Brother Archer set his coffee down. "What's his status now?"
"I don't have a clue. When I came back to the room, it was obvious he was somewhere else. I called for the nurse for an explanation. It took forever for her to arrive. As you can imagine, I was a little upset. The nurse looked at the bed, then Lee's chart, and said she'd check with the ward desk. She tried to calm me and said, this is a big hospital, and Lee will resurface at some point."
"When she came back from the desk, she said the doctor had gone home for the day and knew nothing other than Lee should be resting."
Dawn raised her voice. "Resurface? Show up? What the hell does that mean? I want to talk to Lee, hear his voice."
Dawn looked at Brother Archer with pain swelling her face. "This is too much, Brother Archer. No one knows his status. I wish he could just tell me he's OK. This situation seems so futile, and I have no idea how to reach him." Her eyes watered, and her voice quivered with emotion as her chin dropped to her chest. "I'm afraid he's left me forever."
Brother Archer stepped toward Dawn with his hands open. "Would you mind if I prayed for you and Lee?"
Dawn placed her hands reverently in Brother Archer's hands and closed her eyes.
Brother Archer began, "Heavenly Father, I pray you touch Lee with your Holy Spirit and awaken him from his silence and You, Lord, stir his soul that he might see You and desire You. I also pray You comfort Mrs. Morason, lift her burden of grief and worry, and instill within her troubled heart the relief and assurance You and You alone are the Bond-Maker that guarantees an unshakable foundation for marriage."
Brother Archer paused, then asked, "I humbly call upon You, Lord God Almighty, to produce a mighty work to glorify Your name and bring the Morasons back together in their life walk."
Dawn opened her eyes and gazed at the painting on the wall behind Brother Archer. She continued to hold his hands warmly, then looked upward to the ceiling and asked softly, "Dear Lord, please deliver my husband from the darkness that binds him."
Brother Archer gave Dawn's hands a reassuring squeeze and said, "He will."
Brother Archer stepped aside as Dawn walked gently to the painting. She stood for a moment taking in the whole picture; the clarity of the blue sky, the crispness of the snowcapped mountains, and the power of the waterfall. She took a deep breath as if she could smell the wildflowers reaching to the sun, then exhaled with relief at the sensation of pure mountain water quenching her thirst. Then, she kissed the tips of her forefingers and placed them gently on the gnarled branch and whispered, “Lee, please, I’m waiting for you.”
An unfamiliar voice inquired, "Mrs. Morason?" "Mrs. Morason, I have coffee and bagels."
Dawn looked at the door, trying to recognize the muffled voice, but her sleepy brain came up with nothing. Intending to take her mind off Lee by reading this month's issue of 'Gardening Life,' she had fallen into a deep sleep after curling up in a plush recliner.
"Just a minute," she said with a sleepy voice, barely hiding her annoyance at being awakened.
She stood slowly on stiff legs as the magazine slipped from her lap onto the floor bending several pages backward.
It annoyed her—what a way to start the day. She shuffled to the door while straightening her casual sweats and peered through the security eyepiece.
"KNOCK, KNOCK!
Startled, Dawn stepped back. "What?"
"Mrs. Morason, I…"
Dawn leaned forward and tried to peer through the lens. "Who are you. What do you want?"
"I'm Brother Archer, a friend of Lee."
Dawn closed one eye and opened the other eye larger to see more clearly through the hazy lens. Still, she could barely make out a distorted cowboy hat with what looked like steel wool protruding from beneath it. "I don't know you," she said as she stepped a little closer to the door.
"I'm Pastor of the Derby Acres Free Will Methodist Church." Brother Archer smiled and held the cardboard carry box up to the lens so Dawn could see the coffee and bagels. "I thought you might like some company."
Dawn pinched her cheeks, fluffed her hair, and opened the door cautiously. She planted her foot firmly behind the door just in case Brother Archer, or whoever he was, tried some kind of funny business.
"Hungry?" Brother Archer asked.
"A little," Dawn said as she gave Brother Archer the once over. She had never seen a half-black, half-Japanese, or Chinese cowboy before.
"Lee stopped by the church and wanted to talk." Brother Archer gave his sincerest warm smile. "I thought you might want to talk too."
Dawn kept her foot firmly planted. "Why should I want to talk to you?"
"Because he told me he wanted to go back to Vietnam."
"He told you that?" Dawn relaxed her foot.
"Yes," Brother Archer answered. "Listen, I probably should have called first. But, if this is the wrong time, please take the coffee and bagels, and we can talk later when you feel up to it."
"Did he tell you why?"
Brother Archer cleared his throat. "He said he thought he might have fathered a child."
Dawn's knees buckled, and her hand slipped from the doorknob as she clutched the edge of the door for support.
"Mrs. Morason?" Brother Archer asked with concern.
Dawn regained her composure and stepped back while opening the door. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm a little out of sorts right now."
"I understand," Brother Archer said while stepping carefully through the doorway.
Dawn shut the door quietly while eyeing Brother Archer. "You're not Chinese, are you?"
"No, Amerasian." Brother Archer handed the coffee carrier to Dawn, took his cowboy hat off, and hung it on the doorknob. "Half Vietnamese, half American and fully washed by the Blood of the Lamb."
Dawn sipped her coffee. "You're a real pastor?"
"Yes, mam, a servant of God eager to do His will."
"And His will for today is to bring me coffee and bagels at seven in the morning?" Dawn asked.
"That, and comfort and hopefully clarity. It's not every day a man says he wants to leave his wife to go to Vietnam to look for a child that may or may not exist."
"You get right to the point, don't you?"
"I think we're all better off when everything is out in the open, don't you?" Brother Archer looked past Dawn at a painting on the wall.
Dawn handed Brother Archer his coffee and tried to see what he found curious about a typical furniture store painting. "I don't know. Sometimes I think its best certain things go unsaid or, at least, left behind."
"Even the truth?" Brother Archer leaned forward and examined the painting with interest.
"The truth can be hurtful and damaging." Dawn looked into her coffee and wished it had more cream and sugar.
Brother Archer stepped around Dawn. "See this black stripe, this long dark shadow at the bottom? I don't mean to ignore you, but it caught my eye right away. It looks like it doesn't make any sense. Here's a blue sky with bold mountain peaks white-capped with snow and a waterfall cascading through a lush green forest into a lake as still as a mirror nestled in a meadow filled with colorful springtime blossoms. This painter is very talented and clever too."
"Clever?"
"Yes, see how the painter blended a dark shadow along the bottom to match the matting?" Brother Archer stepped aside.
Dawn stepped closer and examined the painting. "It's a tree. It's a big dead tree or log! Yes, I see it. I hadn't noticed it before now. You're right, very clever, but why?"
"It's an event. I think the painter never intended the image to be a moment captured in time. Instead, he illustrated a process, a continuous process of growth. Look closely; see those little shadows within the larger shadow?" Brother Archer pointed at the dead log.
Dawn leaned forward.
Brother Archer continued. "Decaying bark, peat, mushrooms, and look there at that knarled rotting branch. It looks like a troll's bony hand reaching from a darker shadow."
Dawn was troubled by the image of the hand.
Brother Archer scratched his afro. "The painter could be illustrating that both landscapes exist simultaneously with equal importance. Most people would admire the valley's beauty and avoid acknowledging the darkness below. However, I think the painter knows human nature quite well and painted what appears to be a troll's bony hand reaching up to the valley."
"That changes the whole painting. It's as if in that beauty, a beast is lurking to pull the viewer into a darker world." Dawn was alarmed and began to wish she'd never seen the hand.
"Or someone wants help with being pulled out of the muck and mire." Brother Archer turned to Dawn. "It could go one way or the other."
"How so?" Dawn finished her coffee and crumpled the cup in her hand.
"The hand could pull someone out of the valley into darkness, or someone already in darkness wants to be pulled into the valley. I think the painter is challenging the viewer to examine the contrast of both landscapes to better understand where they stand amid God's creation."
Dawn turned from the painting and walked across the room thoughtfully. She threw the crumpled cup into a wastebasket and picked up the copy of 'Gardening Life.' She smoothed the creased pages and placed the magazine carefully beside her purse on the floor. She spoke to the wall in front of her, "I've looked at that painting many, many times and wished I lived in that meadow. I deserved to live in that meadow, you know, happy and free, surrounded by beauty. That’s what I thought. I never considered someone needed help or even that a bog existed."
Brother Archer watched an exhausted woman organize items around a well-used, comfortable, easy chair. He listened with compassion.
"I've been selfish for a very long time." Dawn turned and faced Brother Archer. "I feel guilty and responsible for his silence. I should have helped him."
"How's he doing?" Brother Archer asked.
"That's the question, isn't it? Unfortunately, I don't have a clue."
"He hasn't spoken to you?"
"Nope, not a word. He barely talked to the doctor. Lee just stared at him. I told the doctor what Lee said about Vietnam, how he thought he'd fathered a child.
"The doctor asked him about the woman, her name, and if he knew whether she still lived in Saigon. I guess they call it Ho Chi Minh city now. Lee told him he saw her at the shop. The doctor asked him if, he was positive. I could tell by Lee's face he was angry. The next thing I know, he really did shut up. The doctor asked him many questions about Vietnam, Agent Orange, and whether he killed the enemy. Lee just stared at the doctor as if he wasn't even there."
"Did Lee try to leave?" Brother Archer asked.
"No, the doctor called for a nurse, and a short while later, she arrived with a wheelchair, syringe, and medicine. Lee didn't acknowledge her and didn't protest when the doctor and nurse helped him into the wheelchair. He didn't even bat an eye when the nurse swabbed his arm and injected him with the medicine. An orderly came in with one of those bags of water, and while he was hooking Lee up, the doctor stepped to my side. He whispered Lee was seriously dehydrated, needed rest, and needed time to recover and sort things out. He also said it was likely Lee was beginning to experience something called Delirium Tremens combined with Hypnopompic hallucinations caused by PTSD and alcoholism. I had no idea what he was talking about, and before I could ask him, the nurse and orderly wheeled Lee out of the office."
"I caught up with them and followed them to his room. I was surprised, it was a nice single room. The nurse asked me to step out and give them a little time; they were going to give him a sponge bath and gown and get him into bed."
Dawn paused then said, "I was exhausted, so I went down to the cafeteria to eat and rest. And rest I did. I dozed off in the corner, well, fell asleep really, for about thirty minutes or so. It had been a long terrible day."
Brother Archer set his coffee down. "What's his status now?"
"I don't have a clue. When I came back to the room, it was obvious he was somewhere else. I called for the nurse for an explanation. It took forever for her to arrive. As you can imagine, I was a little upset. The nurse looked at the bed, then Lee's chart, and said she'd check with the ward desk. She tried to calm me and said, this is a big hospital, and Lee will resurface at some point."
"When she came back from the desk, she said the doctor had gone home for the day and knew nothing other than Lee should be resting."
Dawn raised her voice. "Resurface? Show up? What the hell does that mean? I want to talk to Lee, hear his voice."
Dawn looked at Brother Archer with pain swelling her face. "This is too much, Brother Archer. No one knows his status. I wish he could just tell me he's OK. This situation seems so futile, and I have no idea how to reach him." Her eyes watered, and her voice quivered with emotion as her chin dropped to her chest. "I'm afraid he's left me forever."
Brother Archer stepped toward Dawn with his hands open. "Would you mind if I prayed for you and Lee?"
Dawn placed her hands reverently in Brother Archer's hands and closed her eyes.
Brother Archer began, "Heavenly Father, I pray you touch Lee with your Holy Spirit and awaken him from his silence and You, Lord, stir his soul that he might see You and desire You. I also pray You comfort Mrs. Morason, lift her burden of grief and worry, and instill within her troubled heart the relief and assurance You and You alone are the Bond-Maker that guarantees an unshakable foundation for marriage."
Brother Archer paused, then asked, "I humbly call upon You, Lord God Almighty, to produce a mighty work to glorify Your name and bring the Morasons back together in their life walk."
Dawn opened her eyes and gazed at the painting on the wall behind Brother Archer. She continued to hold his hands warmly, then looked upward to the ceiling and asked softly, "Dear Lord, please deliver my husband from the darkness that binds him."
Brother Archer gave Dawn's hands a reassuring squeeze and said, "He will."
Brother Archer stepped aside as Dawn walked gently to the painting. She stood for a moment taking in the whole picture; the clarity of the blue sky, the crispness of the snowcapped mountains, and the power of the waterfall. She took a deep breath as if she could smell the wildflowers reaching to the sun, then exhaled with relief at the sensation of pure mountain water quenching her thirst. Then, she kissed the tips of her forefingers and placed them gently on the gnarled branch and whispered, “Lee, please, I’m waiting for you.”
~~~~
The title Concertina refers to razor wire used to secure a combat perimeter. It is also used on prison walls. It is designed with barbs and razor type hooks intended to snag a person from entering or attempting to escape a secure area.
Concertina, in the context of this novella refers to psychological and spiritual entanglement. Specifically, it refers to a Vietnam combat veteran who is ensnared by the deepest and darkest fetters of torment and denial. Those fetters consist of alcohol abuse, guilt, and resentment.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Concertina, in the context of this novella refers to psychological and spiritual entanglement. Specifically, it refers to a Vietnam combat veteran who is ensnared by the deepest and darkest fetters of torment and denial. Those fetters consist of alcohol abuse, guilt, and resentment.
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