A Misplaced Childhood

Opalence Williamson leaned against the threshold of the door allowing time to lapse over her in waves of fading light. Her mother had recently passed and Opalence could not keep her mind from wondering into corners she had long ago stopped visiting. Every item in her mother's house had the power to bewitch her, to hold her in place while her mind raced before her to distant times. The faint smell of rosemary, the constant ticking of the living room clock, the wood-paneled walls all activated memories that sprung open before her like triggered doors awaiting her arrival.

As the youngest of three daughters she had inherited her mother's home, not legally of course, those papers were lost long before her mother had inherited the house herself. It was rather an assumed inheritance, a responsibility dressed up as privilege for the daughter closest to the dying mother. An endowment no other sibling would contest since they understood the pressure of such ownership. The house was not in itself a bad house. It had strong bones, a solid foundation with quirky features that revealed the styling preferences of each generation. A house one could easily turn into a home through care and time. Four bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a generous yard made it a pretty sound acquisition...were it not for the garage.

The garage had served as the family's functioning purgatory for as long as Opalence could remember. It was uncharted land, a stagnant and ancestral pawn shop of sorts, where money was never exchanged and items never redeemed. Hosting a family's concept of generational wealth if generational wealth could be measured in disregarded hobbies and ruined photo albums. It was a space that attracted critique with the same ease it encouraged abandonment; allowing those complicit of its disarray to bestow the distinction of blame on the current owner's state of mind. Each member of the family refusing to acknowledge just how much their own homes benefited from this designated purging site.

Opalence knew this well so she was relieved to find herself alone, knowing her mother would have preferred it this way. She hated public accusations of hoarding, when private request for storage were still taking place. In truth, the task of clearing out the garage required the active participation of every family member responsible for the communal chaos, but she wanted to honor her mother one last time.

She had brought a flashlight knowing night would find her here and bounced its beam around the room, moving from section to section prolonging the idea of actually getting started. Before her the items laid piled atop one another forming a maze of curious towers that threatened to topple over yet never did. In the silent realization of the effort this task was going to take Opalence noticed that at some point, perhaps long ago, someone had attempted to organize the clutter. Stands of silver shelves aligned the back wall with boxes that appeared to bear some type of labeling system.

Squinting she attempted to read the words written in black ink on cream colored masking tape.

Church robe - communion plate - extra hymn books.

Family videos - funny one missing - lose loose photos.

Baby first clothes - blanket - shoes - (illegible scribble) - not donation.

She chuckled at some of the labels, quietly thrilled at the idea of finding hidden family treasures among all the clutter. She deemed these cardboard boxes the best place to begin her quest towards organization since they were the closest thing to order that she could find. So armed with her black flashlight she headed towards the back of the garage, shifting items along the way, carving a clear path behind her as she journeyed forward.

Three hours had passed and she was almost done sorting through the first stand when she finally reached it's top row. It was then that she noticed the red tape on the last box at the back of the shelf. Unlike all the other boxes this one had been reinforced more than once. The tape wrapped around it tight, and deliberately without an air bubble nor a crease. It was a curious sight to see how neatly encircled it had been but what Opalence found most peculiar was the small black print at its corner bearing the name: Opal Williams.

Immediately her heart began to race. Her mouth grew dry and she felt as though she would collapse from atop the ladder, ruining all her hard work down below. Opalence held the shelf in a tight grip, steadying her breathing with eyes sealed shut. She attempted to blame the sudden onset of vertigo to the fact that she could not remember the last time she ate or sipped water. But deep inside, somewhere just beyond reason she knew this was fear, unadulterated and wild, swelling and spreading like a flood within her.

She thought about calling her sisters, considered masking her panic behind a tempered tone, and asking one of them to handle the box as though it were nothing more than a simple request for help. But she could not wait. Bona was never as close to their mom and would deliberately take hours to get ready and Nessa might not even answer. She had to open it now, a sense of urgency moving her from fear to action as she lowered the box to the ground.

She ran her nail down the center seam of the tape, attempting to rip open but the layers were so thick she did not even make an indention. Then she began to pry at it's edges, clawing at various sections with a desperation that only yielded flushed finger tips. Finally she discovered the end point of the red tape and began to peel it back towards herself. Slowly unraveling the strip, turning it over and over until the last section ripped off the box taking with it bits of the brown fiberboard as though it were skin.

Now with the tape finally removed her heart began to race once more and she leaned her head on the back wall taking in deep breaths, pressing her hands together to stop them from shaking. It was impressive how the short time spent unraveling the box had allowed her to steady her nerves, something she now wished she was still doing.

Despite the removal of the tape the flaps of the box laid repressed against one another undoubtedly the result of years spent tightly wrapped and forgotten. With unsteady hands Opalence opened the box. Inside, neatly stacked one atop another laid four yellow envelopes, thick with documentation, each bearing the tidy handwriting she had grown to recognize as her mother's.

1. Sessions 34 - 130 - Jan. '96 - Dec. '96

2. Drawings, records, notebooks - '95 - '96

3. Session Reports 1-34 - Sept. '95 - Dec. '95

4. Police records, newspaper clippings, letters - 1992

Beneath all four envelopes, inside of a clear Ziploc bag, were the well-folded clothes of a young girl - a faded cream dress with pale pink flowers.

An overwhelming wave of nausea arose within Opalence causing her to empty out the box in a hurry before refilling it with bile and spittle. Placing the box near her feet she tossed the clear bag with the dress to the side, not able to withstand its sight without growing sick. With tears streaming down her face she opened the second envelope and withdrew the stack of reports. Each packet was held together by silver paperclips that had slightly rusted over time, indenting their tarnish silhouettes onto the crisp white paper.

Report: 001

Date: September 6, 1995

Patient: Opal Williams

Parent: Odessa Williams

Record: # of Sessions --- The patient's mother has agreed to prolonged hypnotherapy. Sessions will take place at least twice a week but not surpassing four times a week so as not to create a complete disassociation with her current reality.

Goal/Aim --- To create alternate memories in order to replace those experienced during the abduction. The mother has agreed to change the child's name officially and create a slight variation of the birth name given. The mother was instructed to choose a name close enough to the original to not cause prolonged confusion among extended family members, but different enough to not draw recollection of police and news reports from the time of the kidnapping.

Treatment --- The patient will meet with Dr. Hunapo in the sensory deprivation lab. Librium and Melatonin will be administered before each session. The mother has provided family pictures of events that occurred during the patient's absence to further enforce the pseudo memories.

Survey --- Currently the patient recalls violent memories from her time spent with the abductors. Most of them involving the "white man" and the "white lady" but prefers to draw out the scenes rather than retell them. The patient demonstrates an extraordinary talent for the arts and recalls being allowed to paint while being held captive. The patient is illiterate, vocabulary and speech are limited and resemble that of a six year old (age of abduction). The parents have been instructed to discourage any drawing at home to deter any memory from resurfacing in the images rendered. Alternative schooling has also been suggested at least for the next (12) twelve to (18) eighteen months.

The two older daughters will also undergo therapy, understanding that the eldest might be outside the age range to fully adopt the alternate history. If the first attempts fail, a recommendation has been made that she be sent to live with extended family members while the patient is undergoing therapy. The second daughter (14) will receive intensive therapy alongside the patient. Studies have shown that dual hypnotherapy can often lead to prolonged success if both patients receive the alternate narrative simultaneously.

The patient's father appears to be the most reluctant member of the family and has repeatedly expressed distrust in the program. He does not wish to participate in any of the therapy sessions whether as an observer of the children's treatment or as a participant in standard therapy. Parent participation is crucial in the adoption of the alternate truth as they can reinforce the pseudo memory at home. The mother has been warned that his unwillingness to participate may threaten the success of the program. She has assured the clinic that the father will be relocating for work and will hence not interfere with the process.

The mother's commitment to the program shows promise. If the family follows the plan outlined by the doctor, the implanted memories may be able to successfully overwrite the trauma experienced during the patient's captivity.

Notes --- Henceforth the child will be called Opalence Williamson. Differentiation in last name from the rest of the family will be blamed on hospital records.

Opal dropped the report between her legs and stared blankly ahead of her. Before her laid a room dedicated to the disorganized assortment of one family's triumphs and failures, a stockpile of dysfunctions awaiting to be reclaimed.