The Reminder - 151 - 160
With out looking up to meet my eyes, and on queue with commencement the second play of the song, Frank began reciting from words written on the sheets of paper held within his now trembling hand, words addressed from Monica to Bobby.
“To my love, I hope this letter finds you well. I am sure you have been busy and I am in hopes that all is going quickly for you and you will be home sooner than later. I am not sure that you are receiving my mail so I am repeating what was said before and that we are expecting parents. I found out six weeks after your departure. I am just a month and some from giving birth and God willing, you will be home to be with us for your sons third birthday. Please respond to me soon and let me know you are fine. Sending you all of my love, Monica”.
Waving the page delicately between two fingers, as if being that of a conductor to the timeless song, Frank than released the single page in an act that seemed to finally set him free from the coveted information he held in secrecy for so long. As the single sheet fell dead to the floor between us, he dropped his eyes upon the next letter, waited for the start of the next verse and began to lightly read aloud the words written.
“My dearest love Monica, how I miss you more with every passing day. This place they call Vietnam has been hell. The rain has been never ending during our long days and nights. I am getting readied to head out north and am expected to be out of reach for a time. I am hearing I should expect to see what war really is. I am nervous but then again, this is what we are here to do and that is to fight for what’s right and to help the people have a chance at a better world, like the world I left back home with you. The days are moving by, I am in hopes of receiving news from you soon. I am sure your letters are here somewhere but sometimes things are messy here and the mail can tend to get lost or misplaced. Keep sending them as we over here need all the encouragement and support we can get. Say hi to Clarence and tell him to be sure to check the oil on the Ford if he plans on driving it a lot. Love to you my beautiful Monica”.
As with the last page, and timed with the ending of the music, Frank again lifted the letter and released it, exonerating himself again of his past mistake. Settling both his hands and his eyes down upon the rifle, the house fell into a silent calm, and with it, the pendulum of the overhead light began to slow with much less erratic behavior.
“Peter we have all been waiting a long time for your return. You did take your time but we knew you would come back, and you had too. I am personally thankful”.
Shaking my head in disbelief of what had so quickly transpired around me, I was searching within myself as to how to gain some control with the situation now unfolding in front of me.
“Because...why are you thankful Clarence Frank Henderson”?
“Because we have at last, a chance to put this whole long story to bed once and for all”.
With his declaration and the restart of the song, a new phase of spastic flickering in the light source began in earnest, creating a new surge of anxiety within the cell. Straightening up my body for the first time and wincing in discomfort at the various points of pain, I looked on to Frank as he readied his breath to read from the final page held within his grasp. Placing his weary gaze upwards upon the flashing bulb, Frank exposed his open palms to its erratic behavior in a sympathetic gesture.
“Monica please, it’s all going to be o.k.”
Dropping his head, Frank then swiveled himself while raising his pondering hand, gesturing back towards The Reminder. A long pause ensued while we both stared onto her surging eyes. The slow but widening reciprocal sway of light, returned the eerie movement to her otherwise lifeless stare just as the verse / I will be coming home / wait for me, settled into a most perfect of theater setting.
“Your mother has always been the meticulous type, always seeing to it that all is done in the most perfect and timely manner”.
In a sudden change of energy and against the soothing calm of what was just seconds before, Frank returned to the position facing me accompanied with a strong downward slap of the paper upon the butt of the gun.
“She did only love one…she may have pretended to love another, but she really only loved one man…and then there is you Peter”.
Staring into the oscillating shadows of each other’s eyes, I remained uncertain as to what conclusion all these revelations and emotions were leading to. As always, Frank seemed to be jumping between indecisiveness about which character model would win out the day, though it was now evident that a final deadly play was at hand.
Dropping his head and staring into the final page, while humming along to the words – lonely rivers flow to the sea, to the sea, to the open arm of the sea, it was as if part of him was struggling to believe that the day had finally arrived. A day he sometimes wished he would never have had to confront. Just as he seemed ready to deliver the last draft of revelations and while the carousel of the overhead light was reaching its zenith, a large commotion banged through the upstairs unit and was followed by the sudden appearance of Mr. Robert Bobby Tucker.
With a heaving breath and a crazed stare, Mr. T stood frozen at the bottom of the steps while taking in the scene. Frank, playing his part in the reception, slowly rose up from his seat, while the disregarded letter drifted down and settled with the others below.
“Well isn’t this just a pretty site”?
Securing his firearm at waist level while directing it right at Bobby’s midsection, Frank, though appearing painfully slow to move, made it clear who was in control.
“Well it’s nice to have you finally arrive as well, and might I ask, what took you so long”?
Much like a chained animal, Mr. T took stuttered steps towards the man he entrusted his faith in years ago. A trusted agreement to look after his love while he was away at war, only to uncover and be greeted back with great deception and ultimately the death of Monica. My father had a right to be reacting in this way, but Frank remained king and to what extent he was willing to keep his control over his domain, was yet to be seen.
“A…a…don’t be into too much of a rush, we do remember how it all ended up last time don’t we? Anyhow, what matters now is that we are all together, all here to better understand where we will go from here”.
Taking a step towards me, Bobby was showing all signs he was ready to make something happen.
“The secrets are over; there is no way out…no hiding now…times for you to be a man…a man you never were”.
“I agree with you in part, the first part and that is, yes all has been revealed, but what to do about it now? We could just all leave, let it be and all go our separate ways. Is that possible? I think not and I know you both feel the same. As I see it, we were all destined to be one happy family and we were until you showed up”.
Like caged ravenous dog staring down and ready to pounce on a meal, Mr. T’s ability to control the resentment any longer was lost. After decades of living with an imprisoned and wounded soul, after years of yearning to meet this very man again, all the rage was suddenly released in a final attempt at getting to the very reason that all his love and hope for his better world was lost. With a slight back step and a securing of his footing, Frank leaned slightly forward as the crack of the rifle exploded within the small confines of the lower basement. Shuttering in fear and disbelief, the partial weight of Mr. T’s body came collapsing down upon my feet with a heavy fall.
“Stop Frank…Clarence, whatever your name is please stop, enough is enough! Damn it, you cannot change the past but you change how you react to it. Now look what you have done, again”.
Settling gently back into the confines of his seat, Frank blankly stared out with mouth partially open, down at Bobby’s body. Adjusting his site down to the rifle, he took in a large breath as if to be reassuring himself of the actions just taken.
“I really have no bone to pick with you Peter and I never have. But his idea was to right a wrong. But who is right and who is wrong? When it comes to love, Bobby could never accept Monica’s decision to be with me. And now look…well…it appears he got what he wanted anyway as they are together now after all”.
As the moments crawled on and the wondering of the overhead light slowed to a minimal arch, we sat imprisoned within the rerun of events both past and present, linked by the never ending; now draining harmony spilling in from above.
Unsure of how exactly the end would unfold but knowing it was coming soon, I watched as Frank turned and settled the butt of the rifle to the floor. He began to slowly swivel the firearm in a slow rotation, mimicking that of the motion of the light overhead. With each slow turn of an enacted dance with his longtime partner of crime, I knew a decision about how this was going to play was now imminent.
“I am fully aware there is no escaping my spiritual misdeeds within this lifetime. There is however the option of opting out of this particular play, that of which we all have created”.
“If there is no escape Frank, no ultimate escape from ones misdeeds, from what you have created here, what is the point in delaying the responsibility of having to face yourself, by pushing it off onto another lifetime? Why would you do that”?
“Let’s just say… I am the ring master”.
“Of what Frank, the ring master of what”?
“The ring master of how this current puzzle, all players included, will be gathered for the next round in this theater of life”.
“Why continue to be locked in, why not break the cycle, why not come clean and move on”?
“Because long ago, we all agreed otherwise Peter”.
“Who agreed Frank”?
“The four of us agreed to keep this game going”.
“Game? What game are we playing Frank”?
“O.K. adventure if you like”.
“I still do not understand why…”?
“Life and death, life and death, life and death…the ultimate discovery of our soul family tree and who of us will it be who will expose the truth the next time around. The truth that there is no ultimate death and that we are all strands of one entity, playing out different scenarios of self with the ultimate goal of perfecting the whole of the self…long way to go…maybe”.
“What is the ultimate goal here Frank”?
“Service to others”.
“But by doing all this, are you not acting in service to self then”?
“From your limited perspective, it would seem so, however, all the parts are not equal in the process of enlightenment and so it is the first to awaken…it’s that persons job to dictate the play for the rest until all are aware. It’s at that point, which is about now, it’s the one who is awake, which is me, to decide if it’s beneficial to the life plan of the whole to stay or move on to the final act. What you have witnessed all around you Peter are acts and conditions that believe it or not, are here to perpetuate another revolution for the whole of the family group. Being that mistakes have happened and parts of the group have now vacated this existence in the flesh, it’s time to move on as well”.
“Ultimately for what…what will a next round provide”?
“It will provide access to have all of us be together in the physical again and to help create the final earth civilization, one that does not destroy itself but one that finally creates a planet of peace. You see Peter…we agreed to all be physically together for this mission and so we must move on to achieve this”.
Stopping for a moment, Frank held the fire arm vertically from the floor and stared out at me just over the barrel of the gun. The rotating overhead light continued its wide path, illuminating the left then right sides of his face, playing perfectly to both sides of his schizophrenic script.
“Your mother Monica was the first of this particular incarnation to set the stage for awareness. As you know, she is now without form but is in fact very much alive. She has taught me and Bobby and now finally you. You are the one we have been waiting for in order to take this on to the next round of adventure”.
Dropping his eyes back down to the rifle and resuming its vertical spin, it gave me the impression that I was witnessing a broken man stirring at a lifetime of memories of both perceived accomplishments and regret.
“Round and round we go Peter, how this incarnation ends for you and me, and when it will begin again…who really…”
As the last pitch of falsetto soared out and over the somber setting, Frank clinched his eyes as the better part of him rained down in sudden regret. With the culmination of song, he quickly fell the barrel of the gun onto himself and readied for apparent self-execution. Without thought and with pure impulse, I thrust up and lunged forward aiming my full impact right into the chest of the coward before me. Surprised, Frank in a sudden reversal of decision partially redirected the weapon and fired off another shot just as the collision of our two bodies met.
Falling together, away and out of time, cocooned within the ongoing light and song, forever prisoners, caught within the never ending reach for love, still searching for the eyes of love that are my own.
Who lived and who died and when will they all meet again? The truth will ultimately finds its way as the group’s conciseness will continue to climb and clear the dross of darkness one layer at a time, one lifetime after another. So why do we decide to stay… for the justice that love might find another day.
We spend one-third of our lives away, somewhere beyond the veil of sleep, somewhere out of reach, or are we?
___
Peter Olmstead always wanted to know who his biological parents were. After 20 years of declining an invitation from Grace, the one person who has held all the answers he has always been looking for, he finally accepts the offer of reconciliation and decides to face his past.
Upon relocating back to California where he is scheduled to meet Grace, his estranged step mother with secrets to tell, he first moves into his rented duplex where he comes face to face with a painting called The Reminder, a painting that the moment he lays eyes on it, instantly begins to trigger that hidden trauma, the one that he has spent his whole life trying to keep buried.
Missing the opportunity of being able to meet up with her due to the sudden setback of Graces untimely death, aside from the few clues of pictures and letters left by Grace, Peter instead relies on delving deeper into his psychosis aided primarily by The Reminder. Being prodded on further by the bazaar confluence of seemingly unrelated events, Peter is suddenly at the mercy of rapid fire exposures brought on by patients at the clinic where he works and the paranormal anomalies occurring within the house he shares with the seemingly schizophrenic old man Frank.
With a sudden escalation in lucid dreaming happening, Peter welcomes being guided through series of dreams that quickly lead him along a historical timeline that begins to expose the true relations and identities of various individuals that now surround him.
But before he gets to the final viewing, a viewing that will ultimately relinquish the true origins of both his childhood trauma and the identity of his parents, he realizes there is another player in conscious attendance in the same dreamscape that might not want Peter to know the ultimate truth.
Now exposed within the shared reality, a race is on as Peter finds himself on a personal fast track of discovery that will eventually lead him to the crime of passion that he witnessed as a child so many years ago.