We decide to hike the nearby trail because there has been some relief from the heat due to the rain
rain is beautiful when it’s like this —if it wasn’t for the lightning; how much I do love getting soaked ....and the sound of rain when it comes down hard as if it can drown out all the bad in the world ....and I can lose myself in it
It has been 93F/33C and I feel glad for the break to get out in this especially because I want to avoid thinking about my daughter’s birthday
by afternoon it is clear for awhile to hike, the ground hardly damp at all
He says suddenly as we walk through the woods,
“You once said that you used to think that you were invisible —unless your mother saw you....” Jörn looks at me strangely
“Why do you say this?” I ask him
“You’ve been so distant lately,” he says
“but I can say the same about you,” I stop to look at him because it is true as it has bothered me —only I’d never say unless he said it first
“There is just a lot going on —you know, that I can’t talk about with ....”he shrugs as he considers and looks into the trees momentarily distracted in this
“The world?” I say to finish his sentence
“I was going to say ‘work’ but, yes, the world.... politics —” he grimaces with a note of frustrated disgust and then he looks at me now and reaches to brush an insect off my face that just landed there but then says, “oh I forgot —that reminds me; I was supposed to give you something that my father gave me for you when I saw him—“
“W-wait—what? When you saw him....?” I stare at him directly to ask the question without words and dare him with my eyes meeting the kryptonite sharply. To say. And look boldly at him. And his eyes tell me. He does not look away and does not deny what I imply, and I take a deep breath to say, “so they were right....” and I think about Smulagan and that day and even as I knew this anyway but —he never said after and so now letting out the deep breath I say with calm resignation, “well.... I guess I knew I was ....lying ....for you....” and look down as now I stop to consider,
then say,
“so ....what is it he gave you?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s something on a disc that he seemed to think you would want and I keep forgetting to give it to you,” he tells me and takes my hand impulsively to pull me along in another direction, “so remind me when we get back because he keeps asking me if I gave it to you.”
but then we hear sounds in the leaves; that sound— as they rustle as if in haste something goes. We stop to be quiet to listen and we wait ....and watch for wild life
suddenly when he starts to go towards it I pull him back
“Wait—!“ I say like he’s crazy
“Shh....!” he is annoyed “oh, you just scared it away!” he exclaims in disappointment as we hear something take off
“It could be a skunk, don’t you smell that?” I ask him
but instead it is a redfox that we now see leap off into and out of the path with some kind of prey and Jörn laughs at me saying, “in daylight?” after it’s gone because I jumped as it came out of the brush
and makes it worse by running a branch up my arm so that I let out a scream as it felt like a spider crawling up my skin
“That’s not funny,” I say
But he laughs anyway
“Why did you think you were invisible?” he asks after we walk on
“I have been distant you say ....and you ask this.... how does that follow?”
“Because you’ve been talking in your sleep again,” he says as we go up a small hill as I stop to take a picture of the trees and how the sun light looks through the branches ....and the leaves; the lush, deep, dark, forest, green
“Have I?oh God—!what do I say?!” feeling my skin burn with embarrassment
He shakes his head,
“I can’t understand it— it comes out like mumbles. It sounds like ‘remus’ ....You did it more when we first came up here, though. And when you were ill, when your fever went up.”
We get to a clearing up at the peak that overlooks a nice view. There are trees with thick trunks and long, heavy branches and now I go over to one and touch the coarse texture with my hands and decide to sit down upon its thick roots and lean in to and against it. I always feel such peace around old trees. They are so very old, aren’t they? they always seem so wise to me; like vampires; such ancient souls to look up to
“Remus,” he says again and sits down next to me as I feel him look at me in that way.... that way that he does .... like when he tries to solve things, dissecting my brain methodically as if he has diagrams with the parts he thinks he’s got already figured out
“Tell me, Jörn, is this out of spy fascination or is it something else? Is it just some weird proclivity of yours to need to figure me out? Or is it that it bothers you that the safe is now back in your country?”
“Yes it bothers me! It’s not their case!” he says suddenly fired up
I pull back suddenly and look at him,
“well, even I can see it involves international intelligence, how can you say that like that?”
He doesn’t answer at first but seems almost to twitch in irritation about it with a scowl, then after a moment he says,
“it was my case and —I was close to —figuring something out! ....and now they have something —they— can never figure out.”
“Don’t you think that is what they would prefer?” I ask him and look at him but then get caught and then lost in his eyes; caught between what I see and what is behind that bewitching stare
“Remus.... duva.... ? what does ‘remus’ mean?” he persists as if he already knows
but my stomach growls
“Are you hungry?” I ask glad to change the subject, “it’s getting late,” I start to get up but he stops me
“That’s what you’re saying—isn’t it....?” and studies my eyes
“Well if you already knew ....” I shrug giving up and let him pull me back. I look back at him, “ok, what? Since you know. What....?”
He thinks about it and says it again to himself but then I am annoyed now and look at the view instead until finally I say,
“you know .... I told you ....once before.”
“The story ....” he says now as he remembers, “he would read to you ....during your secret visits with him,” and he smiles as he figures it out as it seems to always give him that sense of accomplishment when a pin drops into place
I don’t deny it and just keep watching the horizon as I wonder what he will decide to conclude about it
“Uncle Remus....” he chuckles to himself and shakes his head, “she told you he wasn’t real— that it never happened .... after.... when he stopped coming....”
“The year before he died....” I fill in the rest
“He was ill,” he says thoughtfully, “yes.... was that— before or after ....your visit that time with your mother to Sweden?” he suddenly asks
I hadn’t expected him to say that
so why do I get such a chill?
“What?” I ask confused at his reasoning
“You said the book he gave you disappeared too after.... “ but now as he stares at me I see he has that moment of an epiphany and
....my mouth goes dry
I reach for the water bottle to drink and turn away from his penetrating stare; like blinding gestapo, interrogation lights that turn a different, more brilliant hue in the sunlight
“What other stories did he read to you?”
I shrug and drink some more water and shake my head
but he reaches now for me with his hand and with such a gentle caress—along with his voice that has softened to a kind of purr
“is that when you left her in there?” he asks
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