CHOICES
byPamela McVeigh
Copyright 11-11-98
Carol was a good girl. She lived her life to please the stern mother that had raised her. Of course, there was some reason she never would, but she valiantly tried. When her mother was buried, Carol felt a lifting, a freedom she had never met before. In her last year of college, she soon stretched her wings to fly over the world she had denied herself.
Suddenly, the boy she was dating became immensely boring, placid and mildly surprised when she packed her mother's things, put them into storage, then left the town for good. She had not even said a proper good bye to the lad.
The school , conservative to the core, had loosened up somewhat in the last few years, following the trend of the early Seventies in general. Long hair was evident and outdoor parties gathered around the campfires to do other things besides sing songs. It was a fine time to be eighteen and single. Carol met max there , passing the bottle of Boone's farm from her best friend to his warm hand. He sweet talked her into a relationship before the night was over. Neither one really had thought it through.
They married, semi settled down to a life of subsistence. Paying bills became the objective, not having a time. Carol grew quieter and Max worked harder. They seemed to have forgotten how to laugh. Boredom took the race just as the tortoise took the hare
When the blindness caught her, it seemed to sacrifice her hopes on it's altar of acceptance. "Can't", "shouldn't", and "won't", entered her vocabulary. Everyone was amazed that she could wake up all by herself, go to the bathroom unassisted, and answer the phone alone. People stopped calling, visiting, talking and remembering her.
A computer was outfitted with a screen reader that opened the doors of the world to her fingertips. It was the closest thing to reading she had experienced in her blindness. First , the Bible, then E-mail. She made a few friends there, from the same town to the far coasts of Australia.
A day came where she had made certain friends, but they sorted themselves into three separate groups. The people in her "real" world, the family , friends and neighbors around her physically were the first group. They were uninterested and put her on the shelf, it seemed. Max treated her more like one of the pets lately. She became a second class member of the household. She was allowed to vote on certain issues, but not the important ones. When he took her for a walk, the cane became like a leash and lead. Carol became quickly frustrated. To the town's eyes, he was the perfect spouse, doing for her and taking her, poor her, to the store and if she sat in the car while he did the shopping, it was just too bad. She began to burn.
The second group were the religious friends . Some were in her real world, some just on the web. They were readily available, always there to lend a hand or ear, nodding their heads. Repeating the same platitudes , each of them, then warning her to be careful. These particular words felt like dry timber to the fire in her soul. Her burning became nearly unbearable. She knew better than to ask for patience.
The third group consisted of people that encouraged and scolded her , being friends as she understood the term. Not needing to be perfect for them, she was allowed to fail. That felt so wonderful to her. Carol realized that this was what was missing in her life. The failures you had to live with and learn from. She hungered for that. She began to feel hope again.
It soon became evident that she had three distinct choices in her life. The cast and crew of each faction began to lock horns over her life. The religious faithful muttered nasty things about the worldly freedom salesmen. The worldly freedom salesmen, however, never bothered to notice the other group other than to smile and chuckle at their narrow mindedness. Carol was disgruntled and restless, wanting to be like everyone else and the same as she used to be.
As she discussed the future with the people, she saw three distinct roads ahead of her. If she stayed where she was at now, the end was certain. The Christians had another choice for her. But the Freedom thinkers offered a challenge and a terrifying hike through her days. She began to wish and pray for a way to live all three, though they were mutually exclusive, no matter how she looked at it.
One night, as she crawled into her bed, she sensed a burr of electricity in the air, flowing around the room. Carol was not at all frightened, just curious. As she relaxed into sleep, her musings were forgotten, though the restlessness still stalked the room.
Max was coming in through the door to the kitchen. He seemed to walk slowly and Carol could have sworn that he stopped to lean against the frame of the door. He grunted , then set the groceries on the table. Muttering, he was putting away the cans of food and boxes of various things. Carol thought perhaps he was physically ill, he moved so slowly and clumsily.
"Max, are you okay?" Her voice came out in a thin, thready rasp of a whisper. He did not answer. Alarmed, she said again, "Are you okay?"
A can of food hit the floor and after a minute or so, he went after it, growling and panting. This was weird, he must be terribly ill. She tried to stand and found her recliner was actually a wheelchair. What was this?? She felt for her cane and could not reach the floor. She realized that her legs felt odd. As she groped for the cane, she understood that her left leg was gone. Horrified, she sucked in her breath to begin screaming. At that moment, Max started to holler like a bull at the cat. Carol swallowed her panic. This must be a nightmare.
She listened to the old man in the house that seemed to be Max, only years in the future. Carol scrunched down into the dreaded chair and put her hand over her eyes. So, this was the future for her here. If she kept on this course of allowing Max to do everything for her, it would result in her losing even more freedom and also affect Max's.
The walls began to come towards her stiff, achy body swathed in the chair. This was a nightmare, no doubt about it.
Carol woke with a start to see a wisp of smoke or fog dissipate into the corner of the room. See? How could she see? She must be still dreaming, she realized. She turned over with a sigh , punched the pillow and slidd under the covers again. This was nuts. What had she eaten, anyway?
Carol felt the sun, warm and soothing to her cold muscles laying across her body. The quiet of this place had woken her from a terrible nightmare, though she could not quite recall the details at this moment. A light bell rang in a yard outside her window. She felt a bustling of bodies, though the silence was taken up by the bell. She found the cane leaned against the wall near the door, then found her way into the hall. She heard the cotton fabric of long dresses or robes swishing around her, heading to the end of the hall. This was not her house, but a large, high ceiling room, she could tell. But quiet still. Carol knew she was the last body to enter the room where all the others had gone. She wondered who these people were and why she was there.
Carol could smell the food , which told her this was a lunchroom or cafeteria. The clacking of the silverware told her it was lunchtime. She found her way to the end of the line where no words were spoken but much activity was carried out.
Living in a convent where a vow of silence was apparently a given, Carol found was relaxing and fulfilling. She felt calm and content, a foreign felling in her current life. This was the ultimate end for her, spiritually. A giving in to God, a dedication of herself to the contemplative existence. Her innermost dreams were of this. But suddenly she realized that terrible loneliness of it. Man was meant to live with other men, not alone, not even enjoying the rare smiles of the others ensconced here.
The bell rang again, waking Carol once more. Another nightmare, only a more docile one, this time. Yet, just as deadly . There were aspects of this life she could appreciate, but the reality of it raised a near panic in her Carol laid there in the dark, afraid to turn back to sleep. She had not been reading any Dickens lately, but this was certainly something Scrooge could relate to.
She thought of her very existence in these two dreams. In one life, she was old and used up and spent by disuse. In the other, she was on a shelf, alone by her own choosing. What else was there? Another puff of smoke blew past her face and she collapsed onto her mangled pillow.
Standing in a garden, tearing out weeds with a hoe, she could hear the others laughing and singing. How joyous they sounded, she thought. Where was her smile? She pulled the hoe until it hit the little stakes put there for her guide line , to save the tomatoes. She was wearing a worn pair of overalls, formed to her particular body. The knees were letting in the light wind of the summer, so she knew it was an outfit she wore often. Her hands were rough and callused, as if used to the handle of the tool she held. Well, at least here, she was using her body. What of her soul?
Carol clearly realized the three situations, standing there , smiling. It was simple, really. Nothing was all good or bad. She waved good-bye to the other farm members and went to sleep.
The sun was again resting on her face, trying to burn the pillow through her head. But this time, it was her room, with Max sleeping next to her. When had he come to bed?, she smoothed her side of the four-poster and went down to make coffee for their day. At the big kitchen table, she had time to put her thoughts together.
The truth of the dreams was clear indeed. Life was made of goods and bads, happys and sads, loves and freedoms. To be able to contemplate God in her thoughts, to experience a selfless love given to her by her husband and to have the company of other people was the culmination of all these ideals. She had it all here, but she needed to implement as many growths as possible. For there was the path to satisfaction, not mere acceptance. She smiled at Max as he entered the room, surprised.