threatened to overtake
him, he strode across the parking lot and into the doctor’s office.
Today there would be no talking. The shrink
had been pushing this for months now but Matt had balked. He wouldn’t balk
anymore. No matter how much he feared the truth, he’d let the doctor hypnotize
him. And he’d face whatever it was that had him terrified at the idea of having
a kid. So afraid that he’d had a vasectomy as soon as he had the money, right
after signing with the Rebels. After he did that he’d see about having the
surgery reversed, the way Keisha wanted him to do.
* * * * *
He tried to concentrate on the swinging
pendulum in the doctor’s hand, but the pendulum was here and now. He was
somewhere else.
Mind and body separated, his mind traveled
back…
“You’ll be twelve years old next week,
Matthias. Where are you now?”
He saw a soot-stained brownstone on a
narrow street. A few straggly flowers—petunias his mother had planted in the
spring—still survived along the cracked walkway to the front door. He
hesitated. Something stopped him. Was someone screaming?
Not screaming. A pigeon screeched as it
dived for the crumbs his neighbor lady put out each morning. He made himself
move, took the stairs two at the time, flung open the scarred, black-enameled
door and went inside.
“I’m going home. I got suspended from
school for fighting on the playground.”
“All right. You’re in your bedroom now,
Matthias. What do you see?”
“My bed. Football on the chair. A
bookshelf. My new sneakers.”
“Think carefully. Who else is in the
house?”
“Mom.” A door slammed and heavy footsteps
grew closer. “Oh, no, Dad’s home.”
“Why is your father home? Shouldn’t he be
at work?”
“They called him from school.” Another door
opened. His door. “Dad?”
A fist connected with his cheek. “Brat.
I’ll teach you to disgrace me.”
His jaw hurt so bad he couldn’t talk. He
thought it might be broken. Another fist got him. This time in the gut. He
doubled over, vomited.
“Clean it up or I’ll kill you.” More fists,
more curses and threats. His dad had him by the throat, choking the air out of
him.
“No, Abel. He’s just a boy.” His mother
grabbed his father. He scrambled out from under the deluge of fists.
“Shut up, bitch.” His father hit her over
and over while he watched and screamed. Blood ran out of her nose and mouth.
“I want to pummel my father, protect my
mother. But I’m too little. Too helpless against him.”
“Matthias, what’s happening now?”
“I hear sirens in the distance. Now they’re
inside. The cops are dragging my father off my mother.” He gasped for air,
couldn’t breathe.
“Are they taking him away?”
“They’re putting handcuffs on him. He’s
fighting them. Oh God, I hear more sirens.”
“Your mother. Where is she?”
He sank to the floor, took his mom’s limp
hand. “On the floor. She’s bleeding. Not moving. The ambulance people are here.
They’re lifting her onto a gurney and taking her away.”
The doctor gave the signal—a snap of his
fingers. “Come back now, Matt. Do you remember everything?”
He did. How the fuck could he have buried
this nightmare so deep inside him that it had taken twenty years and a hypnotist
to drag it out of his brain? “Some of my fears make sense now, Doctor.”
“You mean the reasons you’re so afraid of
having a child? Or why you’re a sexual submissive?”
“Both. Seems to me the two are pretty much
tied together.” Now that he remembered why his dad had killed his mother he
understood his guilt, his fears. Understanding them, he believed he was halfway
toward overcoming them. “I imagine I’m still gonna need a few more sessions—but
no more hypnosis. I don’t think I could take revisiting any more of my
childhood, at least not that up close and personal. I always remembered my mom
dying in the hospital and my dad being sent up for manslaughter, just not
exactly the
him, he strode across the parking lot and into the doctor’s office.
Today there would be no talking. The shrink
had been pushing this for months now but Matt had balked. He wouldn’t balk
anymore. No matter how much he feared the truth, he’d let the doctor hypnotize
him. And he’d face whatever it was that had him terrified at the idea of having
a kid. So afraid that he’d had a vasectomy as soon as he had the money, right
after signing with the Rebels. After he did that he’d see about having the
surgery reversed, the way Keisha wanted him to do.
* * * * *
He tried to concentrate on the swinging
pendulum in the doctor’s hand, but the pendulum was here and now. He was
somewhere else.
Mind and body separated, his mind traveled
back…
“You’ll be twelve years old next week,
Matthias. Where are you now?”
He saw a soot-stained brownstone on a
narrow street. A few straggly flowers—petunias his mother had planted in the
spring—still survived along the cracked walkway to the front door. He
hesitated. Something stopped him. Was someone screaming?
Not screaming. A pigeon screeched as it
dived for the crumbs his neighbor lady put out each morning. He made himself
move, took the stairs two at the time, flung open the scarred, black-enameled
door and went inside.
“I’m going home. I got suspended from
school for fighting on the playground.”
“All right. You’re in your bedroom now,
Matthias. What do you see?”
“My bed. Football on the chair. A
bookshelf. My new sneakers.”
“Think carefully. Who else is in the
house?”
“Mom.” A door slammed and heavy footsteps
grew closer. “Oh, no, Dad’s home.”
“Why is your father home? Shouldn’t he be
at work?”
“They called him from school.” Another door
opened. His door. “Dad?”
A fist connected with his cheek. “Brat.
I’ll teach you to disgrace me.”
His jaw hurt so bad he couldn’t talk. He
thought it might be broken. Another fist got him. This time in the gut. He
doubled over, vomited.
“Clean it up or I’ll kill you.” More fists,
more curses and threats. His dad had him by the throat, choking the air out of
him.
“No, Abel. He’s just a boy.” His mother
grabbed his father. He scrambled out from under the deluge of fists.
“Shut up, bitch.” His father hit her over
and over while he watched and screamed. Blood ran out of her nose and mouth.
“I want to pummel my father, protect my
mother. But I’m too little. Too helpless against him.”
“Matthias, what’s happening now?”
“I hear sirens in the distance. Now they’re
inside. The cops are dragging my father off my mother.” He gasped for air,
couldn’t breathe.
“Are they taking him away?”
“They’re putting handcuffs on him. He’s
fighting them. Oh God, I hear more sirens.”
“Your mother. Where is she?”
He sank to the floor, took his mom’s limp
hand. “On the floor. She’s bleeding. Not moving. The ambulance people are here.
They’re lifting her onto a gurney and taking her away.”
The doctor gave the signal—a snap of his
fingers. “Come back now, Matt. Do you remember everything?”
He did. How the fuck could he have buried
this nightmare so deep inside him that it had taken twenty years and a hypnotist
to drag it out of his brain? “Some of my fears make sense now, Doctor.”
“You mean the reasons you’re so afraid of
having a child? Or why you’re a sexual submissive?”
“Both. Seems to me the two are pretty much
tied together.” Now that he remembered why his dad had killed his mother he
understood his guilt, his fears. Understanding them, he believed he was halfway
toward overcoming them. “I imagine I’m still gonna need a few more sessions—but
no more hypnosis. I don’t think I could take revisiting any more of my
childhood, at least not that up close and personal. I always remembered my mom
dying in the hospital and my dad being sent up for manslaughter, just not
exactly the
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