Wendy

My decision to step away from the school was driven by my inability to feel safe as intermediary between split worlds and I did not want to become someone I was not.

My despondency at leaving was driven by the knowledge that the split would be revealed in my absence and the close relationships I had formed would no longer be part of my daily life.

Anyone can be replaced and there were more than enough suitable people to fill my shoes.

My announced departure and the circumstances surrounding it set in motion flashbacks to an early childhood memory.

When I first began my “desk job” after so many years of patient treatment, it felt very awkward to have a desk between myself and whomever I was talking to. It was an unnecessary physical boundary.

I realized as RM sat next to me on “my side” of the desk that I had become accustomed to the desk as a physical boundary and having him on “my side” of the desk was very uncomfortable.

I told myself I was “ok”, and it was necessary for him to be by my side in order to teach him a procedure on the computer.

When we were finished with my tutorial, he turned directly toward me in his chair and spread out – making himself big and imposing. I was surprised that he didn’t go to “his side of the desk” prior to initiating a conversation as he had done on other occasions.

He asked what my intentions were regarding the terms of my departure.

At this point I felt his demeanor was purposeful and I felt myself forcefully remaining calm.

I considered asking him to move and subconsciously measured the distance to the closed door and the size of my window.

I felt myself backing my chair away from him and into the corner.

Surely, if I screamed, the faculty and students on the other side of the wall would come clambering in? Not likely, as many tears had been shed in this office due to the very nature of being the head of the school.

I measured my facial expression and swallowed hard.

I leaned forward and made my back expand like a cobra head or buffalo standing its ground.

I stated my intentions very clearly and maintained eye contact trying my hardest not to blink.

The moment was over, and he left.

I locked my door and my body vibrated as I wept.

Moments later I heard a knock on my door.

I was embarrassed at my lack of composure as I let in a faculty member who had a long history as a healer.

I can’t find words for what occurred next. A seismic energy came over me and I could vaguely hear the healer’s words as she coaxed me to “break bonds” with moments that paralyzed me in my past.

A shift occurred and flashbacks from my past flooded in and around me.

The cook had my two-year-old brother on his shoulders.

He was bouncing him up and down. He placed my brother on the countertop where he watched, fascinated, as the cook rolled his own cigarette from loose tobacco.

He looked at me tauntingly. He reminded me of a cat about to pounce on a bird. His voice echoed in my head. “If you tell, I will hurt your little brother..”

I stared, frozen in my seat, as he picked my brother back up and carried him around the kitchen with the cigarette dangling out of his mouth.

Watching me. Taunting me. Showing me how easy it would be to take my brother away.

I was holding a blue crayon I had carefully selected to color Wendy’s dress in my Peter Pan coloring book.

I thought she was so beautiful. I identified with her as I was the oldest and only girl in my extended family. My brother and two male cousins were always in tow.

I colored most of my picture the day before and was proud of my color choices and how I had “stayed inside the lines.”

The blue crayon in my hand seemed to move on its own as it scribbled across the page and Wendy’s face.

Wendy was no more.

I took a station up on the hill. I felt everyone could see me there and I could watch cook.

It was a hunting camp and there was a moose rack up on the hill. I pretended it was Pan’s ship and it could fly if I rocked fast enough. I wished Peter Pan would come and take my brother and me away to safety.

I only remember flashes between black.

I left my bunk to use the bathroom.

I saw a light and thought maybe it was Tinkerbell. I peeked around the corner.

Darkness.

The smell of alcohol and cigarettes.

Bathing myself with the garden hose and hiding in the woods.

Sneaking back to my bunk when the first rays of sunlight appeared.

That’s all I remember.

I was four.