Innocence

Eric woke up with the premature crowing of a rooster. Quickly, he dressed, putting on jeans, work shirt, ankle socks and steal shank boots. His cabin was small, quaint was how Mrs. Farley put it, but he was a hired hand and did not require much living space.

Stepping out of the cabin, Eric stretched his arms out wide, enjoying the cool, predawn breeze blowing around him. On the horizon there was a faint glow, a promise of light. Eric smiled as he remembered an old saying “Early to bed, early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.” Another saying rose up in his mind, not quite reaching his conscious “another day older and deeper in dept.” He didn’t know it, but this memory came with the voice of his mother, brisk mixed with a tone of general disgust. Eric shivered.

Checking his watch revealed that he was late and he began to walk towards the main house across the yard with his shoulders hunched and his head down, a slightly guilty air about him as his mother’s voice berated him for tardiness deep in his mind. He didn’t hear it, so long had she been there, but some part of him knew and remembered and that was why he walked liked a child called to task.

He had been working for the Farley’s for two weeks now but he still raised his hand to knock, pulling it back at the last second and entering feeling like an intruder. Unconsciously, he wiped his feet on the welcome mat just inside the door as his mother remarked on the foolishness of having the mat inside the door rather than outside.

“I thought you might have decided to skip breakfast this morning!” boomed Mrs. Farley, her voice coming from the kitchen.

Eric gave a guilty start, “No ma’am, I just slept in.” He sped up his walk to the dinning room, down the hall to the right. Taking a seat at the side of the rectangular table, Eric began fiddling with the napkin set at his spot until his mother told him to stop.

“Here you go,” Mrs. Farley said as she set his breakfast before him, “the basics, bacon, eggs and home fries. In other words grease, grease and more grease.” She laughed as she sat down. “I always make it a point to laugh at my own jokes, the lord knows no one else will.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Eric began eating, unconsciously avoiding looking at her.

“I told you to call me Harriet, Eric. We’re on a first name basis here.”

Eric nodded silently, all the while not meeting her eyes. He didn’t know why she made him feel uncomfortable or rather he did not consciously know why. Unbeknownst to Eric, his subconscious always saw the stern, disapproving glare of his mother looking back at him from Mrs. Farley’s face. He also heard his mother’s voice whenever Mrs. Farley spoke but his mind had not brought that to his immediate attention either. He had not coincidently taken up the habit of shoveling in his food as quickly as possible so he could leave the table more quickly. It was a habit he learned as a child trying to leave the unnerving glare of his mother. Mrs. Farley was so pleased he seemed to like her food so much that she always made more for him than she normally would have.

The phone rang in the hallway and Mrs. Farley got up to get it. She walked with a waddle as she managed her considerable bulk, something she did have in common with Eric’s mother. She answered the phone and began talking with another farm wife, the only people to be up this early. If anything, Eric ate faster.

“Oh, Eric,” she called from the kitchen, “there’s something in the cabinet for you in the living room. Its in the bottom shelf in the brown bag.”

Finishing his breakfast, Eric went back down the hall and turned to the living room. Walking around the couch to the cabinet, he bent down and opened up the bottom cabinet door. Inside there was a brown bag as Mrs. Farley had said but beside that was a green metal box, the lid slightly ajar. Something shiny in the slight opening reflected the light. Curious, Eric opened the box and took out the object. He didn’t know a lot about guns so about all he could say was that it was a rather large revolver pistol. Flicking the side like he saw in movies he opened the bullet chamber, it was loaded. Carefully, he clicked the chamber closed. To Eric’s surprise he stroked the gun, then placed it back into the box, shutting it completely with a soft click as the box automatically locked.

Remembering his original task, he checked the brown bag. Inside was a new pair of work gloves to replace his old ones. He put them in his pocket and walked outside without saying a word.

As Eric walked along the fence into the field his subconscious began a memory that Eric was unaware of, even now. His mother was sitting at the head of the table in the house he had grown up in. Eric was sitting at the side of the table and he had just worked up enough courage to ask his mother where his father was. At that time Eric was ten and had never seen his father, except in pictures taken before he was born. His mother fixed him with her familiar glare, full of disgust and disappointment.

Eric reached the section of fence where he had finished the other day. Putting on his work gloves in the soft light of dawn, he grabbed the coiled barbed fence and began wrapping it around the fence posts.

His mother said nothing for so long that Eric began to think she wasn’t going to answer. Just before he had to decide whether to ask again or give up, she spoke.

“Your father is dead. He died drunk with a bullet in his head, just like you will some day.” Eric did not cry, he learned not to do that a long time ago. He also wasn’t sad. Eric didn’t feel much emotion except curiosity, at least not on the surface. Her answer was enough for him, he wouldn’t ask again. But she wasn’t finished talking.

Wrapping barbed fence around the post, Eric cut himself on his unguarded wrist. He didn’t notice. He also didn’t notice that as he wrapped fence around the post he clutched it hard enough for his knuckles to go white and for his hands to feel some of the barb’s bite through the gloves.

“Your father, the drunk, went out with his loser friends when I was four months pregnant. They were going hunting, he said. Of course they had to take some beer with them, to make things interesting. Your father, loaded (she smirked), stumbled in front of one of his friends when he shot at a deer. His friend missed the deer but he nailed a Jackass.” Eric listened with an emotionless face to match what he felt.

As Eric wrapped wire around post he suddenly began to smile, but it was an ugly smile, a cruel one.

His mother suddenly leaned forward intently in her chair, putting her face close enough to Eric’s that he could smell her breath. He didn’t dare lean back. “Your father abandoned us, Eric.” She said intently, eyes wide. “He might as well have pulled the trigger on himself. Remember that Eric!” She grabbed his arm painfully but he didn’t even blink. “Guns are for killing. If you’re ever going to use one you turn it on yourself, you hear?”

Eric noticed the blood on his wrist and laughed. Making a slight effort to wipe it off on his shirt he continued working.

Eric continued on like this until the sun was down and it was too dark

for Eric to see well enough to continue working. He had skipped lunch, telling himself it was to make up for waking late but in actuality it was to avoid Mrs. Farley’s glare. His stomach grumbled.

Eric started walking up the field past the work he had done that day. He surprised himself by feeling a slight twinge of satisfaction at his work accomplished. Checking his watch and seeing that he would be a little early for supper he changed direction and headed for his cabin.

When he went inside he stripped and went into the shower to wash off the sweat and dirt. The stinging of the soap made him remember the cuts on his wrists, some were superficial but a couple looked a little deeper. He washed them as best he could and worked away at the dust and dirt on his body and hair. He scrubbed until his skin was sore and then got out of the shower. He toweled himself dry and through the entire process of washing and drying he never noticed the scars that covered his body. It wouldn’t have helped to have a mirror, there was just no way that his mind allowed itself to notice the marks. If it did notice them, his mind might also bring to conscious how he got those scars and that was something his mind was not able to deal with, so it just never saw the scars.

With a towel wrapped around him, he walked to the dresser and got out a fresh change of clothes, none of which would show his scars.

Finished dressing, Eric went to check his watch but he was not wearing it. He looked around and found it on the dresser. He checked the time and left the watch where it was. Putting it on would have brought attention to his scars and his mind had already begun ignoring them.

Eric walked over to the main house, resisted the urge to knock and stepped in. His mother berated him, remarking on the foolishness of the mat once more. He called out to Mrs. Farley and got no response. Eric walked down the hall a little ways and turned into the living room where Mrs. Farley and Mr. Farley were deep in discussion.

“Oh, hello Eric.” Mrs. Farley said, noticing him first. Mr. Farley, whose back was to Eric, turned to see him.

“Come in, come in,” He invited, waving to a chair. “I just got back from picking up Elise. She’ll be joining us for dinner.”

Eric sat in the suggested chair, struggling to remember who Elise was. He remembered Mrs. Farley mentioning someone of that name at dinner these last few days. It all came back in a rush suddenly. Elise was their daughter, away to college but returning for the summer vacation.

Eric’s subconscious went through a number of memories, brought up by the appearance of Mr. and Mrs. Farley. Eric sat, listening to the two of them talk, unaware of those memories playing in his mind. Such activity in his subconscious was nearly constant as the familiar surroundings reminded him of the past. But then, Eric sought out familiar places, unknowingly directed to do so by the reaction it caused deep in his mind.

Abruptly Mr. Farley turned to Eric, “Did you get a lot of work done today, son?” That particular affectation always made Eric shudder, though he didn’t know why.

Before Eric could respond Mrs. Farley did for him in a disapproving tone, “He worked so hard he didn’t come in for lunch. He works almost as hard as you” She added a disgruntled sniff aimed at her husband this time.

Mr. Farley chuckled behind his beard. “I can appreciate that. Come on, let’s go to the table. I’m starving.”

All three stood up and headed to the dinner table, Mrs. Farley and Eric following Mr. Farley. Eric sat at the same spot he was in this morning, Mr. Farley took his spot at the head of the table and Mrs. Farley went to the kitchen for the food.

“You’re working out just fine Eric. If you want to work here after summer’s over, you’re welcome here.”

Eric smiled appreciatively. Before he could comment though, Elise came down the stairs at the rear of the room. Abruptly, the memories playing out in Eric’s mind stopped. Elise was pretty, wearing jeans and shirt, but that wasn’t what put Eric’s mind at ease, at least not entirely. She matched nothing that was in Eric’s repressed memories, she inspired no recollections and resembled no one he had ever known. For once, his mind knew peace, temporary as it was.

Elise smiled at her father and then Eric, walking to sit at the opposite side of the table to face Eric.

Mr. Farley made the introductions and the two gave each other a brief smile again. Mrs. Farley came in with a large pot of potatoes and a platter of roast beef to which Mr. Farley, a big man, smiled appreciatively. Mr. Farley began forking potatoes and beef onto everyone’s plate while Mrs. Farley went back into the kitchen. Returning with a bowl of vegetables and onions cooked with the roast she finally sat down.

Elise began telling her mother about college life as everyone began eating. Eric listened with only a cursory interest. During the entire meal however, Eric never once avoided looking at Mrs. Farley, he never shuddered when Mr. Farley called him son and though Eric didn’t know this, his mind was quiet. Eric also didn’t realize the effect this peace had on himself. He became more relaxed, making jokes on occasion and smiling as well. Mr. and Mrs. Farley noticed Eric’s change and exchanged a knowing look across the table.

After dinner, Eric found himself walking with Elise out in the field and surprisingly to him, enjoying himself. It did not matter what Elise was like, really, so long as her personality did not resemble that of anyone from his past. The entire time they talked his mind was focused more on the present, not trying to keep unpleasant memories at bay, and what he was remembering in his subconscious were the few pleasant memories he had.

Vaguely, deep in his mind, he noticed the effect that Elise had on him. When he said good night to her, he walked to his cabin thinking of her. As he lay in bed he thought of her and when he slept he dreamed of her. His mind began to use her as a shield from his other memories, to focus on her both in consciousness and unconscious. Eric began to become obsessed.

Over the next week, Elise’s parents arranged for Eric and her to spend a lot of free time together. Elise was not averse to this because Eric, when not bogged down by his mind, became a charming individual. His mind became very attuned to what would please Elise in order to encourage her to spend time with him. Eric experienced a level of freedom he was not quite conscious of, only knowing that somehow, when he was with Elise, thinking of Elise or in some way occupied with Elise he felt better.

On the weekend, Eric took Elise to a local fair with the money he earned at her father’s farm. They spent the day together and for the first time in several years Eric new true joy. Emotion touched him, not only in the Subconscious, the Instinctual Desire or ego, but all throughout him all the way to consciousness. Happiness rang in him like a bell, sending vibrations of joyous emotions throughout his mind to all its parts, that which he could access and that which he could not.

It was on this Sunday of the fair that Elise mentioned offhand her love of cats. Eric took this to heart. When he had a moment alone he purchased a calico kitten from a child with a box of them to spare. He purchased a red bow from another vendor and tied it around the kitten’s midsection.

Eric had left Elise at a high diving performance and began heading back to it with the kitten behind his back. While he was walking the frisky kitten managed to get one of its claws in between his index finger and nail, the prick drawing blood. As Eric looked at the spot of blood his heart thundered and his mind began to remember something from his past, a memory once deeply repressed. He tried to mentally shy away from it but just as a week earlier he would not for the life of him have been able to consciously remember it, for the life of him he could not shake it now. The memory emerged like the eruption of a volcano, violent, earth shattering and utterly unstoppable. It burned his mind as it flowed into his consciousness like searing liquid rock.

He ducked into one of the nearby washroom buildings and then into one of the stalls as his memory completely overtook him.

Eric was five years old. The neighbor’s kid, Daniel had just gotten a kitten. Eric watched the two of them playing together, or rather Daniel terrifying the kitten. Eric wanted a kitten. He would treat it right. He would care for it and it for him. Asking his mother for a cat got him a slap. Eric was determined though, if his mother would not give him a kitten he would get one himself.

Eric waited all day for Daniel to go inside with the kitty in the backyard, finally he had a chance. Heart pounding, Eric raced over to the neighbor. He pretended he was invisible but took no chances, staying close to the fence. He grabbed the kitten, turned and ran. The kitten screeched in fright but he held its mouth shut, taking it up to his room. He locked the door and settled into a corner, petting the kitten and trying to calm it down.

Eric’s room was directly above the front door, so he was in the perfect place to hear the knock at the door. It was Daniel and he knew Eric had taken his kitten and he wanted it back.

Eric listened to his mother climb the stairs, his terror building. She was already at the door.

“Eric! Did you take his kitten?!” She yelled from the other side.

“No! I didn’t take his stupid Cat!” Eric yelled. His heart was pounding so loud he thought it would give him away, but the kitten did that. It started to scream in terror.

Eric’s mom tried to open the door, discovered it was locked and demanded he open it, “Right Now!”

Eric held the kitten tight, convinced that if it stopped crying his mother would go away, and then the kitten was quiet.

Eric’s mother pounded furiously on the door but Eric paid no attention to that, only to the little body in his hands, mangled and dead.

Slowly, Eric got up from the floor, carrying the dead kitten. It took all his courage to go to the door and unlock it. The first thing his mother did was backhand him across the face. He dropped the kitten. Eric’s mom looked to see what dropped and when she did her eyes went wide with fury. Eric tried to dart past her but she grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him back. She began hitting him, punching him in the face and chest, then when he dropped she began kicking him. The more he cried the more she hit him, until he couldn’t cry anymore. She finally stopped.

“Take it and bury it!” She commanded. Then she turned and left.

It was a long time before Eric could get up, but he did. Taking the kitten’s body, he put it into a shoe box and slowly carried it downstairs and outside. He put the shoebox on the ground and got a shovel, digging a hole where he could see it from his bedroom window. When it was big enough he put the box in, then he looked around to make sure no one was watching. He took the kitten out and stroked it once, put it back in and buried it.

He washed up as best he could later, changing his clothes to long sleeves and long pants to cover as many of the bruises as he could but there was nothing he could do about the ones on his face. He didn’t go outside for five days after that. That was when he truly began to hate his mother.

Eric was suddenly aware of knocking on his stall door in the washroom.

“Hey in there? Are you all right? I thought I heard something screaming?” someone called.

“I’m fine,” Eric replied. He looked down at his hands. The calico kitten he had bought for Elise was dead, mangled. Eric dropped it suddenly, as if it would bite him. Then he picked it up, wrapped it in some toilet paper and put it inside his shirt.

Eric’s mind pressed in on him, threatened to overwhelm him. Memories safely repressed demanded attention, called out to him to remember. He felt his sanity slipping. Elise! His mind called out. Abruptly Eric stood up and walked out of the stall, the washroom, heading for Elise again.

As Eric walked he could feel the memories pushing at his skull, threatening to tear their way out. Placing his hand over the bulge in his shirt, he tried with all his will to hold them back just long enough to make it to Elise.

When Eric finally saw her he was flooded with relief, now his memories would be pushed back. But it wasn’t enough; the memories wouldn’t go away. It was as if they were trying to get even with him for repressing them for all those years by trying to make him remember them all at once. Seeing Elise was not enough.

Eric was terrified, he hadn’t felt emotion like this since he was a child. He needed to do something or he was sure he would lose his mind.

Catching Elise’s eye he motioned for her to come out of the crowd to him.

“Is something wrong?” She asked, sensing something in his face, though he tried to smile and look like he was happy.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to go home now, if you don’t mind?” He replied. He had to get her away from here.

Elise frowned, seeing the conflict in him. She made her decision, nodding. “Lets go,” She said.

Eric set a brisk pace back to the car with his long legs. It was Elise’s car but she had let him drive down to the fair and he still had the keys.

Getting into the car he could hardly wait for her to get in before he drove off. It was only a five minute drive to the house at the speed limit but Eric couldn’t take the time, pushing the car to its maximum output. The memories were speaking to him at once, so many that he could not differentiate between them. It was their crowding in on his mind, strangely, that allowed him to hold them back for a short time.

“Slow down, Eric.” Elise said, worry entering her voice. She reached over her shoulder and buckled up. “The house is just over that hill.”

Eric kept the speed up for as long as he could then pressed heavy on the brakes.

“What’s the matter, Eric?!” Elise demanded. “What’s going on?”

Eric didn’t answer, he just pulled into the driveway to the house. As soon as the car came to a stop he got out and ran to Elise’s side. Briefly, Eric noticed that Mr. Farley’s car was gone, he was probably at the fair with his wife, Eric thought. This thought rose up on a wave of others, cresting for a moment and was then gone in the chaos of his mind.

He opened her door and took her arm all before she could finish unbuckling herself.

“Just a second, Eric,” She said, untangling herself from his grip and the seat belt.

“I want to show you something.” Eric said, his voice devoid of emotion. He was mostly concentrating on not remembering. Eric turned around and led the way into Elise’s parents house. “Its upstairs,” he called back as he darted up the stairs.

Elise came up the stairs slowly, annoyed at the way Eric was acting but not aware of the danger she was in. Eric was at the top waiting impatiently. When Elise reached the top Eric took her by the arm and led her to her room. Elise pulled her arm away and asked suspiciously “What’s going on?”

Eric was no longer able to hold back his memories, they began flooding his mind and he grabbed Elise in desperation and pulled her into her room.

Elise began to fight but Eric was physically stronger. He pinned her down and covered her mouth as she began to scream.

Eric got off of the bed and looked around dazed. It hadn’t worked. He had thought, if he possessed Elise physically, he could take whatever it was about her that had helped him silence the memories before, but it would be a greater effect then when he was just with her. She would be a part of him, more of him, and he would be able to stop the memories, but he had been unable to go through with it. A last surviving part of him had held him back. She lay on the bed not moving. Eric watched with all his being until he saw it; Elise was breathing. As soon as Eric saw her breathe the same part that held him back before moved him forward now. He turned around and marched downstairs.

The barriers in his mind were torn down and memories long repressed came to his conscious with no trouble. They stabbed at him, tearing at his spirit and stabbing at his mind. Eric did not know he had made his decision until he walked into the living room. He headed straight to the cabinet, bottom shelf. The green metal box was there but shut. Eric took out the box and walked out to his cabin. He found a hammer and began to strike the lock. Eric started to smile as a memory came to the surface. This memory was of his mother telling him a story about his father and how he died, how Eric would die. Eric began to laugh as he struck the lock, hitting it again and again and punctuating every blow with laughter. He kept laughing until the lock came open.

Taking the gun in both his hands, Eric flipped open the chamber to make sure it was still loaded. It was.

Eric began smiling again, then chuckling and finally laughing and this time he didn’t stop until he pulled the trigger.

The End

Andrew Bomberry