Full Circle

“We cannot see our reflection in running water, it is only in still water that we can see” – Zen.

Timid Jason dreaded the walk home from school, but it was a dread he would have to face. His two older brothers had gone into the military and were no longer around to protect him and the school bullies knew that. He waited around after classes let out, hiding in one of the stalls in the bathroom (standing on the toilet so no one saw him) until he thought it was safe, then left the building and started the trek home. So far so good, he thought, when he had gone a couple of blocks without incident. 

Just then he spotted a figure up ahead that looked like his father; so, he followed, keeping a distance in case it wasn’t. The man took a path that led to a grove of trees by a cemetery. Jason had never been in the area before. Once at the grove the man put on a hooded black robe and removed all his other clothes. Jason shuddered; he had an uneasy feeling that something bad would happen that day. There was a lady in the grove. She came out when she saw the man and greeted him. Then Jason witnessed something no ten year old should have to see.

The couple engaged in a strange ritual involving putting oil on the lady’s private parts. When she had reached a moment of ecstasy the man leaned toward her, helped himself to her juices, then grabbed her neck, pulled her to him, and slit her throat with a knife he had hidden in his sleeve. The woman looked wide eyed in terror before she died. Jason couldn’t help himself. He let out a scream. Immediately the man turned to face the boy. Yes, no mistake about it, the man was his father.

The man had a furious look about him and called Jason’s name. Instead, the boy took off and ran. He continued running, tears running down his face. How could his own father do such a thing he wondered. Jason ate whatever food he could find from garbage cans at night from fast food places and the grocery stores. He found a large cardboard box and an old sheet that served as shelter at night. He feared for his life if he returned home, so stayed on the street. He was deathly afraid that his father would find him though, so stayed alert and hid as much as he could. School had let out for summer so he couldn’t hide there.

Jason had been living rough for a few weeks when an officer shone a flashlight on him one night.

“What is your name?” the officer asked. Another terrifying moment as Jason realized he honestly didn’t know. He had lost his school identification the week before and so could only meekly reply

“I don’t know.”

The officer thought he was a runaway and took him to the police station where he was questioned by several people. One of the officers could tell Jason was hungry so shared his ham sandwich with him and bought him a soda from the vending machine. To a hungry boy it tasted like a meal fit for a king; he was incredibly grateful. After much discussion with child welfare and others in authority, Jason was sent to the psychiatric ward in the hospital where he was told he would get help in remembering who he was. Nothing worked though.

The doctors determined that the boy must have seen something terrifying and had therefore blocked all memory as a way of preserving his sanity; he simply did not want to remember his name or any details of where he lived. Days passed and a frightened young boy came up with a new name for himself. He could not go through life not knowing what his name was, so he decided on James.

A new doctor had joined the staff recently and came in to ‘James’ room. No, it wasn’t a doctor – it was Jason’s father. Panic set in. He shook with fear when his father’s eyes penetrated his own. What on earth could he do now? Keep up with the name, he thought, it’s the only way.

“What’s your name son?” the man asked.

“James sir” Jason said softly.

“Okay, good. Now we are getting somewhere. Where do you live?”

“I don’t know.” He hadn’t thought up a place yet.

“Okay, we’ll come back to that one. Who are your parents?” The 'doctor' shot a threatening glance at Jason, trying to get him to say his real name. Jason was ready for him now.

“My mother died when I was born, and my father went to Africa to be a missionary. I stayed with an old lady. My father stopped writing letters about a month ago and the old lady died. There was never a return address on the letters, so I don’t know where he is. I was frightened when the lady died; so, I ran.” Yes, he could live with that story; it might just save his life too if the 'doctor' believed him.

“That’s okay son, we’ll take care of you until we can locate your father, just relax now.” He was given an injection and suddenly felt both woozy and very drowsy. He wondered if he had been given a truth drug of sorts (he’d been watching too much television, obviously). The 'doctor' questioned him a bit more but seemed to believe the boy was who he said he was so left the room. Jason was safe, for now. 

In time Jason hoped he would really believe that James was his name. He was placed with a foster care family and was then able to finish out his youth years in relative calm. When he reached puberty, however, he developed a sudden, intense fear of mirrors. He wouldn’t look at them, couldn’t. His heart raced and he shook whenever he passed by one. His new family did not understand what was happening but covered all the mirrors in the house anyway to placate him. James must have been through something very traumatic they decided. His foster mother did some research online and determined that he had somehow developed catoptrophobia (from the Latin meaning fear of mirrors). Had he been exposed to a scary movie about a vampire? She didn’t think so, he mostly read science fiction books which he borrowed from the library. James was a quiet boy, eager to please, not the sort to watch horror films. 

All was going smoothly until one day when he caught sight of himself reflected in the glass window of a coffee shop. He looked into the eyes of the figure that stared back at him and let out a blood curdling scream. He had become the one person he never wanted to be – his father. With a moment’s hesitation James walked to a bridge over a lake on the edge of town. There was nothing else he could do, he thought. He picked up two heavy concrete blocks and jumped.

The last thing he heard was a small boy crying

“No!” as he watched a man jump off the bridge. No child should ever have to see such a thing. The lad, whose name was John, watched in horror as the man did not come up again.