~“Give your evidence,” said the King; “and don’t be nervous, or I’ll have you executed on the spot.”
This did not seem to encourage the witness at all: he kept shifting from one foot to the other, looking uneasily at the Queen, and in his confusion he bit a large piece out of his teacup instead of the bread-and-butter.”—from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll~
it is later, after the video zoom chat with Paulina—which I suppose I would rather not go into for more than one or two reasons, like so many things that I find it hard to speak of, write of
like so many things on my mind and too hard to let myself even to feel —even as I know they are there; the haunting seems more endurable than having to survive the agony of the aftermath once aired and the consequences of climbing back out of the clinging bog that has often threatened to topple any resolve to —go on
it is easier to —instead, I guess —to speak of other things —as I do.... instead; easier to deflect. And to shift and veil behind; to obscure because.... I guess, I find it terribly hard to say some things even to myself, nor even let myself ....look at full-on.... and best to mind —not— to let it show
sometimes I flee
as if the devil is chasing me....
and so.... it is when I go straight after the meeting to draw a bath — I suspect Jörn sensed it because he saw me leave as soon as it was done —
and in my wild haste I forget to shut the door behind me.... realizing I must need a bath and —kicking off my shoes with an urgency and removing my jeans, to drop, discarded onto the bathroom floor.... but stop and in some strange daze now, I just stare at nothing —still leaving on his shirt and tie that just an hour or so before he put on me in front of his closet and so I stare without seeing what I look at as I just blankly watch the water fill, leaning into the frame of the bathroom doorway and .... it must be because I am sleep deprived that my thoughts go faraway and don’t notice when Jörn appears and walks over to me. He touches me and makes me jump with a start. And when I turn, I forget to expect him to be still dressed that way; as Greta; he wears a cerulean mini dress that reaches mid thigh with fishnet stockings and go-go boots from the shipment and it is hard not to stare at him with his face made up expertly like a drag queen; his hair softly loose and ....caught in an unguarded second I reach to touch it.... touch his hair ....caught up in something there and.... without realizing I stare into his eyes —drawn to him....
awkwardly I move away. I go to the bath tub and look for the patchouli oil and pour some in and lean down to watch the water fill
He says,
“come here....” in that way and when I don’t move and just look into the water, this time more softly I hear him say,”kim hit....”
I guess maybe it is something; just something different this time in his voice that makes me stand up and without looking at him, I just go to him
But he says,
“look at me,” and pulls my face up to him. He asks me ....something .... noticing my reticence but I don’t answer and so, instead, he asks me something else that I don’t expect ....
and then—he blurts it all out at once as if he’s been holding it back—he just says it all at once,
“was it because you wanted to protect your mother from him ....because you thought if he beat you .... he wouldn’t beat her ....and—was it also because she disappointed you by what.... she —did— duva, it wasn’t just your sister who did that— was it? ....she did it ....too — but she is who confused you and you knew it was wrong and you couldn’t tell anyone.... because you were trying to protect her —duva, is that why.... ? you needed somewhere to tell.... but she found your diary —that is why you first created the dictionary.... isn’t it—Electra.... Oedipus?”
I feel sick
his questions stun me and I get dizzy
Sometimes it seems that —that closet overflows
the doors nearly bursting apart —as now with the weight of all the skeletons, it falls and bursts wide open and every inch of my skin seems to be scorched and on fire, in shame .... so long inside it feels too much to stand up, so long —holding it in to keep it from showing
and I know .... he knows that because he says this to me now as ‘Greta’ ....that this way ....he ....can
and maybe that is why
I search myself and ask myself: did I suspect he knew? did I not know....? no.... I really did not— I mean, I hoped he did not —and hoped he would not ever
wished he would not ever
have to .... know
I can’t look at him, and the walls seem to warp and cave, their soot running off and all over my skin
....I did not expect such questions. Nor that he had, by now.... guessed ....as much as he has. and so ....it makes me wonder how long he has known. how much he knows. and why.... he still .... is there....
Why .... he is still there ....why is he.... ? why has he not .... gone
now knowing what he knows; what no one else has ever known....And maybe it is the relief of letting go of the burden.... I begin to shake
and it is somehow no longer a shock to look at him ....now.... this way,
even as he does not make a pretty woman but this does not lessen the impact he has to disturb me and instead I find I am, in that moment, quite suddenly more aware that there is something ....I feel....
”kim hit....”he says again, pulling me towards the bath, he shuts off the water, “you’re shaking, duva—let’s get into the water,” he says,”låt mig tvätta dig.”
He turns off the lights and lights two candles and in the dimness, he undresses me, undoing the knot of his tie that I wear, when he undoes the buttons of his shirt on me, starting from the bottom, he pulls my face up to look at him, “look at me,” he says.... and when I do, he watches my eyes and face and then he touches me under the shirt —he says something ....but I don’t know the words or what they mean, but it is something I hear in the meaning in his voice that forces out the breath I have been holding and blurs my eyes and then it is the surprise of his touch that over rules everything ....even the dueling, chastising censorship of those demons within my walls, those cruel demons with their thorny fingers that never give me a moment’s peace, but for now, they seem to have lost their power, I don’t hear them ....just Jörn as he says those unknown words again and take a breath and breathe .... breathe in his familiar smell mixed with the scent he wears, I lean into him and looking up at him ....feel the need to place my hand intimately on him.... touch him —and the feeling rushes over, I climb onto him and press myself to him.... by the sink, on the edge of the counter
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