"At first? Okay, sure. It was such a long time ago. War-braids. Plaits. And the helm that covered the head and cheeks. It came down over the nose, too. A long beard, like I said, plaited and dark.
"I was little. I must have been six or seven because he stood by the stuffed animal hammock that hung in the corner. I wasn't afraid. He could've been a waxwork he was so still, but his chest rose and fell. It was as though he watched over my room, like he was on guard.
"Sorry. Just now I remembered falling out of my tree house fort. You remember. How I sat behind the tree so my parents wouldn't see? Maybe I left out that my wrist had broken. I realize now that I was in shock, and the pain took awhile to come. But the fear was immediate. Once the pain came, I passed out.
"The only fear I can say has been similar since is what I felt at my nephew's birthday party a couple years ago. Davy was more excited to turn eight than any boy I've known. I try real hard when I think of that day to remember that. But then I hear the screams again. His mouth exploded. His head bounced off the ground, he'd been hit so hard. He couldn't wait for the pinata to break, so he ran out, and I couldn't stop him, and then I froze; I was the closest, and I froze. Not only did I not stop him, but I couldn't make myself go to him even when he was on the ground. -- The look my sister gave me as she bent over Davy --
"He has quite the scar now. I don't know. Maybe fear isn't the way I'd describe that feeling -- at first, yes, fear, but then it was shame. There was a lot of blood, sure, but that's not what froze me. He cried. So quickly after the bat hit him and his head hit the turf, he bellowed, and then I was back behind the tree as a six year old boy for a moment, and then there was my sister staring at me.
"It's clear now what happened to me, but it hasn't always been. Talking it out like this, it makes it seem so simple when I hear it. But it's not simple. There's some kind of block. I don't know how else to describe it. I can even identify how I should react to someone like my hurt nephew; maybe I even know why that block rose up in my mind -- maybe partly, anyway.
"So, as a kid, I'd given him a name: Dane Thor-Dane. That makes me smile when I say it, Thor-Dane. He must have stood in my room all night every night for a few years. Yeah, it must have been. There's this vague idea that I was excited to see if he'd be there, and then that became, somehow, knowing he'd be there and wanting him to be there.
"As I try to connect this all up, I'm wondering what you'll say. But, I don't quite know. Somehow my viking is connected to that block in my mind -- the one that keeps me, that keeps me from...I don't even like to say it. Right now, as I think about it, without even using the words out loud, there's this cloud, or a wave, that shot over me just under the skin of my face. If I had to locate it on my head, I think it would be here -- right here on my head.
"But I am going to say it: the block that won't allow me to cry.
"Give me a minute.
"Okay. Thor-Dane. At some point, he didn't come and I didn't notice. I don't know how old I was then. High school? But I say that, and then I realize it was about the time I could drive that he came back.
"It wasn't altogether bad, no, but not a time I'd like to live over, you know? My parents left me alone at least.
"This is how I know it was about the time I could drive, yes, the more I think about it, the more I'm sure: I used to drive and drive on weekend nights. Not that I had anywhere to go. That was part of the point -- because I didn't have anywhere, I drove. I stayed away from where everyone else cruised and tried to find old roads and abandoned buildings.
"When did I start that? Oh -- hold on.
"So, probably, I don't know. Wait. One of the times I remember finding this shack of a barn. It had been raining so hard that I pulled over. When it let up, I walked out into a field and found the barn. Okay, yeah, I remember my wet shoes -- they were nice shoes -- and my pants, slacks. That must have been sophomore year, toward the end. There was a dance and, well, the girl I'd asked, she was there, but she'd said she was going out of town.
"How could I forget that? Then I drove. I found that barn, and I listened to the night sounds rise up around me. The wind howled, the floorboards sagged with my weight, and the ceiling dripped with rain.
"I'm not sure if that was the first time, but it makes sense in my mind. After that the weekends became a regular driving time. I stayed out longer and longer. Drove farther. But I was trying to remember when Thor-Dane came back -- yeah, okay, so one night I'd driven, and I'd had a long week at school, and I'd took it a bit too far. I almost ran out of gas. In fact, I think I had to push my car down the block and into the driveway. Weariness hung on me like I still wore my backpack. I slipped into my bedroom, closed the door, turned around. There he stood. It was dark, but I knew. How is it that I wasn't afraid?
"No, I didn't think to say anything.
"I sat down on my bed. He stood right next to me, toward the foot of the bed. He held a shield this time, and a spear -- a thick one. Again he was with me for nights on end, until -- I don't know when.
"It seems strange to me that I forgot this. Doesn't it? Okay, so that's not the strangest part, but -- you know what I mean. I'm just so taken aback by the fact that I hadn't even had one thought about him until this week. A lot has happened. High school feels like another life ago. And now --
"I can talk about him. But not her.
"That's at least something I can see, I can face, and say out loud that it's not okay. You probably know why my viking comes; I think about the times he shows up, and I think get it.
"Did you notice? He's getting closer. He used to stand by the stuffed animal hammock, just by the door, and then he was by the foot of the bed, but now -- he's, he stands right by my nightstand, right by my shoulder.
"He used to wear war-gear. Carry a weapon. Now, his head is uncovered, his hair is uncombed and it spreads everywhere. There's just his long white gown. And he used to stand so still. His hands tremble as he holds them out over me now.
"I've tried to get a look at his eyes, when I can bear to try, but his beard is too wild, and somehow either the shadows block me or I lose my nerve.
"What finally got me to call you was that he moaned, I'm pretty sure of it. I woke in a sweat. His chest heaved and his arms were lifted above his shoulders. Palms up. I could see his neck pulsing because he'd thrown his head back.
"I spent the rest of the night at the kitchen table. Called you right at eight.
"No, I haven't gone back in my room since. She's --
"I should go see her, I know. I'll go now. Thanks, I'll let myself out.
"His head was bare, and his black hair wild, that hasn't changed, but it was the eyes -- eyes the color of an iceberg -- that were wide and searching. And all the while tears stream down his face. If I close my eyes even now, he'll be there, I know it.
"He starts far away. All I can see is a light far away. But, quickly, he approaches and there's no escape.
"No, I can't. If I do that, I'll --
"But I know you're right.
"I know. She's gone.
"I don't have trouble saying it. I know what I should feel.
"Okay. I'll let him come.
"It's too terrible! He weeps and his tears will drown me!"
There, in the small room, with his palms pressed to his cheeks, he wept for the child who fell from the tree house and for his nephew and for the boy who felt the sting of rejection and for his wife.
"I was little. I must have been six or seven because he stood by the stuffed animal hammock that hung in the corner. I wasn't afraid. He could've been a waxwork he was so still, but his chest rose and fell. It was as though he watched over my room, like he was on guard.
"Sorry. Just now I remembered falling out of my tree house fort. You remember. How I sat behind the tree so my parents wouldn't see? Maybe I left out that my wrist had broken. I realize now that I was in shock, and the pain took awhile to come. But the fear was immediate. Once the pain came, I passed out.
"The only fear I can say has been similar since is what I felt at my nephew's birthday party a couple years ago. Davy was more excited to turn eight than any boy I've known. I try real hard when I think of that day to remember that. But then I hear the screams again. His mouth exploded. His head bounced off the ground, he'd been hit so hard. He couldn't wait for the pinata to break, so he ran out, and I couldn't stop him, and then I froze; I was the closest, and I froze. Not only did I not stop him, but I couldn't make myself go to him even when he was on the ground. -- The look my sister gave me as she bent over Davy --
"He has quite the scar now. I don't know. Maybe fear isn't the way I'd describe that feeling -- at first, yes, fear, but then it was shame. There was a lot of blood, sure, but that's not what froze me. He cried. So quickly after the bat hit him and his head hit the turf, he bellowed, and then I was back behind the tree as a six year old boy for a moment, and then there was my sister staring at me.
"It's clear now what happened to me, but it hasn't always been. Talking it out like this, it makes it seem so simple when I hear it. But it's not simple. There's some kind of block. I don't know how else to describe it. I can even identify how I should react to someone like my hurt nephew; maybe I even know why that block rose up in my mind -- maybe partly, anyway.
"So, as a kid, I'd given him a name: Dane Thor-Dane. That makes me smile when I say it, Thor-Dane. He must have stood in my room all night every night for a few years. Yeah, it must have been. There's this vague idea that I was excited to see if he'd be there, and then that became, somehow, knowing he'd be there and wanting him to be there.
"As I try to connect this all up, I'm wondering what you'll say. But, I don't quite know. Somehow my viking is connected to that block in my mind -- the one that keeps me, that keeps me from...I don't even like to say it. Right now, as I think about it, without even using the words out loud, there's this cloud, or a wave, that shot over me just under the skin of my face. If I had to locate it on my head, I think it would be here -- right here on my head.
"But I am going to say it: the block that won't allow me to cry.
"Give me a minute.
"Okay. Thor-Dane. At some point, he didn't come and I didn't notice. I don't know how old I was then. High school? But I say that, and then I realize it was about the time I could drive that he came back.
"It wasn't altogether bad, no, but not a time I'd like to live over, you know? My parents left me alone at least.
"This is how I know it was about the time I could drive, yes, the more I think about it, the more I'm sure: I used to drive and drive on weekend nights. Not that I had anywhere to go. That was part of the point -- because I didn't have anywhere, I drove. I stayed away from where everyone else cruised and tried to find old roads and abandoned buildings.
"When did I start that? Oh -- hold on.
"So, probably, I don't know. Wait. One of the times I remember finding this shack of a barn. It had been raining so hard that I pulled over. When it let up, I walked out into a field and found the barn. Okay, yeah, I remember my wet shoes -- they were nice shoes -- and my pants, slacks. That must have been sophomore year, toward the end. There was a dance and, well, the girl I'd asked, she was there, but she'd said she was going out of town.
"How could I forget that? Then I drove. I found that barn, and I listened to the night sounds rise up around me. The wind howled, the floorboards sagged with my weight, and the ceiling dripped with rain.
"I'm not sure if that was the first time, but it makes sense in my mind. After that the weekends became a regular driving time. I stayed out longer and longer. Drove farther. But I was trying to remember when Thor-Dane came back -- yeah, okay, so one night I'd driven, and I'd had a long week at school, and I'd took it a bit too far. I almost ran out of gas. In fact, I think I had to push my car down the block and into the driveway. Weariness hung on me like I still wore my backpack. I slipped into my bedroom, closed the door, turned around. There he stood. It was dark, but I knew. How is it that I wasn't afraid?
"No, I didn't think to say anything.
"I sat down on my bed. He stood right next to me, toward the foot of the bed. He held a shield this time, and a spear -- a thick one. Again he was with me for nights on end, until -- I don't know when.
"It seems strange to me that I forgot this. Doesn't it? Okay, so that's not the strangest part, but -- you know what I mean. I'm just so taken aback by the fact that I hadn't even had one thought about him until this week. A lot has happened. High school feels like another life ago. And now --
"I can talk about him. But not her.
"That's at least something I can see, I can face, and say out loud that it's not okay. You probably know why my viking comes; I think about the times he shows up, and I think get it.
"Did you notice? He's getting closer. He used to stand by the stuffed animal hammock, just by the door, and then he was by the foot of the bed, but now -- he's, he stands right by my nightstand, right by my shoulder.
"He used to wear war-gear. Carry a weapon. Now, his head is uncovered, his hair is uncombed and it spreads everywhere. There's just his long white gown. And he used to stand so still. His hands tremble as he holds them out over me now.
"I've tried to get a look at his eyes, when I can bear to try, but his beard is too wild, and somehow either the shadows block me or I lose my nerve.
"What finally got me to call you was that he moaned, I'm pretty sure of it. I woke in a sweat. His chest heaved and his arms were lifted above his shoulders. Palms up. I could see his neck pulsing because he'd thrown his head back.
"I spent the rest of the night at the kitchen table. Called you right at eight.
"No, I haven't gone back in my room since. She's --
"I should go see her, I know. I'll go now. Thanks, I'll let myself out.
***
"Thank you for seeing me. Maybe you've guessed why I wanted to talk again so soon. It's so much worse. I still haven't gone back to my room but it doesn't matter. He isn't in my room. No, but I can't sleep -- I haven't slept since, since the night she...
"She's gone and that same night I went to see her I woke in the hospital room, and I woke in a sweat -- yes, again. Well, all I could see was his face. He wasn't in the room. But every time I closed my eyes, there he was; every time I close my eyes, his face -- my hands won't stop shaking.
"She's gone and that same night I went to see her I woke in the hospital room, and I woke in a sweat -- yes, again. Well, all I could see was his face. He wasn't in the room. But every time I closed my eyes, there he was; every time I close my eyes, his face -- my hands won't stop shaking.
"He starts far away. All I can see is a light far away. But, quickly, he approaches and there's no escape.
"No, I can't. If I do that, I'll --
"But I know you're right.
"I know. She's gone.
"I don't have trouble saying it. I know what I should feel.
"Okay. I'll let him come.
"It's too terrible! He weeps and his tears will drown me!"
There, in the small room, with his palms pressed to his cheeks, he wept for the child who fell from the tree house and for his nephew and for the boy who felt the sting of rejection and for his wife.
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