A Swing in the Park

14. Blink

I opened my eyes a saw a woman standing over me. She was my mother's age with long blond hair and kind blue eyes. I did not know her.

She pulled out a tiny flashlight from her white coat and shined the light into my eyes. It hurt them so I closed my eye lids and then I opened them again. She was still there and she was smiling.

"You can blink," she said. "Good. Now we can have a conversation. Once for yes, twice for no."

She scribbled a note on her pad and looked at me. "I'm Karen," she said. "I'm the psychologist here. I'm going to ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are?"

Yes, I blinked.

"Do you know what happened to you?"

No, I blinked.

"Are you in any pain now?"

No, I blinked.

"Are you feeling sad?"

No, I blinked. I wasn't.

"Alright, Katie," she said. "That's all the questions I'm going to ask today. And you need to know something. The reason you don't remember anything is that it is too terrible to remember. You first need time to heal. It is not wrong to not remember. It is not a mistake. It is not your fault. Do you understand?"

I blinked yes.

"Good," she said. "I will be back to see you in the morning. I see you have a visitor waiting in the hall. I will make sure she knows how she can talk with you. I will make sure everyone knows. It's good to talk, Katie."

I watched her leave the room and then Mrs. Finkelstein entered.

"I hear you can talk now," she said. "My hip has been bothering me something fierce of late. And I started forgetting the days again. Then Anabel showed up at my window while I was napping. She flew in right after my 3 o clock meds and woke me up. She took me back through the garden and into the fields. Oh, it was wonderful to be young again and feel those ballet shoes on my feet! They made me feel like I was flying!

This time the fairies wanted me to have a part in their ballet. I danced right beside the girl I'd been talking to the last time. You know, she was sitting right beside me while you talked to that boy.

Anyway, it was thrilling, just thrilling to be on the stage under that grove. And I told the queen all about you."

I wanted to say: and what did queen say? Did she say that the world unfolded from a ball and already had the waters inside it? Did she say she saw it all from within the shadow of time? Did she say she knew us before we were born? That she saw our cradle and our grave? But I blinked once for yes.

"The queen said that you must tell all," Mrs. Finkelstein said. "Yes, all. The world was told before it was. Words bring light, Katie, they create new things. And now I'm late for lunch. I brought you some azaleas from the garden. Have someone put them in a vase."

Then she brought her face close to mine. "Whatever happens, dear child,"" she said, "whatever terrible things must be told, you are loved."

Then she kissed me tenderly on my cheek and disappeared down the hall.

Then my mother stood there, sad and smiling.

"They say you can talk now," she said. "They say you don't remember anything. Don't you remember anything, sweetheart?"

I blinked twice for no.

"I can't tell you," she said. "It can't come like that. The doctor told me. Her name is Karen. She said she will see you every day. Do you like her?"