Genre: Mainstream/Literary
Preference: Full Critique,please.
The garden lay before my eyes, unkempt. The sight startled me. After many years of not being here, I’d returned and found how quickly things deteriorate when not lovingly taken care of.
As I stood looking at the poverty that had befallen this once so beautiful proud garden, I wanted to cry.
I regarded the rundown house; no longer the centerpiece of roses, carnations, lilies and yellow daisies.
Oh, how noble houses fall.
“What are you thinking, Linda?”
“You see that tree?" I answered not quite knowing where to begin. “I used to climb it.”
Jordan laughed.
“And you’re still climbing trees.”
Chuckling along with him, I said, “Yes, at my age, I’m still climbing trees. So, we’re here. What do you expect from me?”
Jordan was the one who had encouraged me to return here. My husband, lover, and friend for the last seven years. Even though much younger than I, he concerns himself more about my well-being than I do. My nightmares forced him to convince me to come back and face the demon that terrorizes me.
“I hope you'll appreciate your wealthy upbringing and let go,” Jordan said.
I regarded the garden surrounding the house in which I was born. We are so different, Jordan and I, yet in many ways we are like homogenous barks linked together.
“I think you're fantasizing again. You’re not old enough to request I appreciate my upbringing. You weren’t there.”
“No, I wasn’t, but I love you. That alone gives me the right to help you reconcile with your past and let go.”
“Look who’s talking? The babe among us.”
“Yes, the babe by ten years and yet your husband.”
I started walking around the old worn, weather-beaten building, and I let my feet trample the green weeds. I didn’t ask Jordan to follow me; I didn’t hear his footsteps, but I felt his eyes on my back, observing, waiting for me to let go and cry my heart out as he followed me.
“That tree has been there for ages,” And I pointed at it.
“Maybe, it’s a good tree,” he said.
“Perhaps.”
“The green leaves are beautiful.”
“Yes, they are. I used to hide in the branches and cry.”
“Would you like to cry now?”
My shoulders slumped downward. I was too overwhelmed to answer.
“Then come,” he said to me as he caught up with me and put his arms around my shoulders. He stopped me from going further and embraced me. “Cry if you want. Cry out the pain.”
So standing within his arms, my tears fell. I looked up at my old friend, Mr. Tree, still standing regally; its branches toward the sky, and I cried. I cried and said goodbye to my only dear friend.
"It's alright, Darling, I know," Jordan whispered softly to me. "I've been this way before. Now you can heal."
Always protective of me, Jordan worries how I will react when he is taken away from me, suddenly. My nightmares cause him to suffer. Secretiveness and danger come with his job and testify of the short life spans and intense loving relationships among their team members. Jordan finds the love he needs with me; it gives him freedom, and he smothers me with his tenderness. My nightmares have become infrequent. Strangely, only on times when he returns from whatever crisis he engaged in, the dream appears. He awakes me, and we huddle together, giving each other support. Jordan understands. Coming out of an orphanage, he knows the heartaches of rejection and the comfort of fleeing to a garden.
I sniffled. Jordan lifted my chin and wiped my face with the handkerchief he took out of his jacket.
“Did you cry it all out?”
“Not sure, but I think so.”
I left the safety of his arms and walked up to my friend, Mr. Tree. Before me lay the wide-opened space of the fields, no longer planted, a house decayed, and a deteriorated garden. They were once my secret cavern.
“Jordan?”
“Yes, Linda.”
“That’s where I picked cotton.”
I heard him chuckle.
“Did you like it?” he asked.
“Are you kidding?” I hated it but I wanted to earn my own money, and I did.”
He burst into laughter, and I listened to his chuckles as I observed the field before me.
“Why did you insist we come here?” Intuitively, I felt he needed to tell me something that was urgently necessary.
Why did we have to fly across the ocean now?
“In two weeks, I fly.”
“How dangerous?”
“Dangerous enough for me to want you to be secure if you have to live without me.”
“Is that why you ask Gwendolyn to fly over from Scotland?”
He didn't answer.
“Ah, I see…” Not able to finish my thought, I went to him and let him wrap his arms around me. Between the two of us, Jordan is the sensible one. His emotions erupt only when we are alone, loving each other.
“How long?”
“It could be three months or forever.”
“I see.”
“You know what I love about you, Linda?”
“Yes, but you may tell me again."
“Your ability to give me the warmth and the distance I need. I'll always come running back to you. You understand my need for these impossible missions. You alone make it possible for me to have both.”
I gazed at the old garage shed, at the weed-covered field, and the weeded garden growing up and covering the porch as it pushed its way into the house.
“I've seen enough. It's where I am now in my life that counts.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Let's go home. Two weeks, you say? Then, let's enjoy our present moments.”
Thank you for visiting, and I hope you enjoyed my story.
Shalom aleichem,
Pat Garcia