The Slave of Thorns

At eight-thirty in the morning the sky held a pale blue tone as I hung out in my shop. It was nice and stuffy in here, just the place to be when you didn’t want anyone snooping around in your business or telling you what to do. Sometimes I just like a little peace and quiet, which a lot of people seem to take for granted now these days. At twenty-three I seemed very athletic and energetic to most, but in reality I was one of those kids who never wanted to go outside, I just wanted to work. My foster parents had taken me to countless doctors in hope of ‘fixing me’, but everything was as it should be, well, for the most part. The doctors had found this rare physiological disorder apparently called Cyclothymia, which is basically a mood disorder. It causes emotional ups and downs, but not as extreme as bipolar disorder. When I’m in the ‘up’ stage I feel like I’m on top of the world, but when I’m in the down stage..... Let me just tell you ahead of time it really sucks. When my mood shifts what the doctors call ‘noticeably’ I experience periods.

I move then to start on my newest piece of work, a beautiful dark wooden bench with deep engravings of flowers in the arms. And later I would be working on a wooden cane, and I would carve a rattlesnake around it, all the way up to the handle, and paint it before sending it off.

I look outside to see a woman approaching my small white cottage outside of the woods. She looked to be middle age, late thirties if I had to guess. Her hair was tied tight on the back of her head, long brown locks drifted from its prison to rest on her forehead which she quickly pushed back into place. She wore a tan business suit with a pair of heels to match, she didn’t seem to be accustomed to the country though. Everything around her made her seem so out of place in her fancy suit and shoes. Even her car was pristine, shiny, and new.

I don’t know why but everything about her made me feel like punching her pretty little face. Her expressions were perfect, studying every detail of my small cottage and the colors around. She looked through the windows trying to get a better look and stood on the tips of her shoes. I couldn’t help but stand there and look at her. Waiting to see what she would do. After a couple of minutes I noticed that she had been calling my name, and I rushed out to greet her.

“OH! Miss.Wright! Thank goodness, I was about to give up all hope and come back to get you later...” She ran up to me, arms open wide and I backed away slightly. “Oop, sorry! Force of habit, I do that with all of my friends when I greet them. I am Jennifer Feldman Personal Representative of Estate, it’s very nice to meet you.” At that she held out her hand for a handshake. Her hand was soft and firm, warm to the touch as we joined hands.

“Nice to meet you too. Um.....may I ask why you are here?” She jumped a little bit and reached for her pocket book on the side of her hip.

“Thank you! I nearly forgot. I have something for you from your birth parents.” I just looked at her questionably, waiting for more of an explanation that never came. She must have understood because she came up to me and wrapped her arm around my shoulders reassuringly. “I know you have never known your birth parents, but they were very nice and loving people. This is something that they wanted you to have, and to cherish. This is a piece of them.”

I stood there dumbfounded at her casual mention of knowing my parents. It was just so hard to believe because she was just a little bit older than me. She must have only been ten or more at the time of my birth and no one has heard from my birth parents since they gave me up for adoption. It was as if they had disappeared from the face of the earth.

I reached my hands out cautiously, testing the tiny box that she handed me with tiny taps on its wooden surface. It had small engravings all over its surface, symbols that I didn’t recognize. It looked to be a very old piece of work, and very beautiful. On the top lid of the box was a seal. A small pentagram with six points. I opened up the box as cautiously as I had received it, inside was stunning. It was a single ring, with the same symbol from the top of the box carved into the iron. It was set with four jewels with all inside of the pentagon. It sat upon a velvet cushion, beckoning me to it. If I didn’t know any better I would have said that it looked like the Star of David. But with all of the symbols it couldn’t possibly be, it seemed to be something more dark and mysterious. I could feel waves of feeling coming off the rind, reaching its way toward me, calling me still. Everything about this ring drew me to it, its design, its color, I could make a list here and now if I had the time. To be completely honest, I almost forgot about Jennifer Feldman.

I looked up at her then and she was staring at me intently. Watching my reactions and body language. It was as if I was a television show, and she was just about to see her favorite character finally get her true love. When she noticed me looking back at her she shook herself back into reality and brought a smile back to her lips.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize I was staring...” She looked down at her toes for an instant, feeling embarrassed and blushed. “I guess I better be going now, I hope that you have a good day Miss.Wright.” I grabbed her arm then and spun her back towards me. I was not going to let her leave with all of these questions spinning around in my brain. If I let her leave now, it would haunt me for the rest of my life as it had in my childhood.

“Please, stay for a little while. I can put the kettle on.” She thought on this for a little while and nodded her head. And at that we both started toward my small white cottage. It was cozy, with a wraparound porch with two rocking chairs which will never get used, I can bet on that now. I had bought them at a yard sale a while back thinking that I utterly needed them, only to find out that it was a silly impulse buy. I left her on the porch as I ran in to put the kettle on the fire. I waited for it to whistle and poured us both a steaming cup of herbal tea. After I had finished I walked outside and handed her the tiny cup and she took it with glee. As she sipped her tea it was if she was trying to interpret every herb that I had used inside of the tea, slowly tasting each individual ingredient and feeling. After a moment more she looked up at me and smiled.

“This is nice, thank you. Is there a reason why you wanted me to stay?” She took another sip of her tea and set it down on the dark end table that I had made a while back in my shop, before looking back up at me expectantly, waiting for my answer.

“Well Mrs. Feldman.....um I wanted to know a little more about my birth parents, and it seems you know more than I do.” She reached over for me and took my hand in hers before speaking sympathetically.

“Well Miss.Wright....” I interrupted her then, trying to make her comfortable with me.

“Please call me Molly.” I tried my best to smile, but it came out awkward and hopeless. She kept the smile on her face and took another sip of her tea. We sat there for a moment, letting the silence surround us with its deafening sound before daring to make a sound.

“Ok, well Molly, Your parents were, as I said very nice and caring people. They cared for everyone around them and helped out those in need. There was nothing about them that didn’t scream golden children. If I had to bet they had a good childhood.” I looked at her for a moment, studying her expressions which seemed strained.

“Why did they give me up for adoption?” I asked it as if it was a casual everyday question, and Mrs. Feldman choked on her tea. She gained back her composure in an instant and sat up straight. Her lips were pursed and her motions tight and precise. As she looked up at me I flinched. Her eyes were as dark and cold as the ocean during a storm, raging within the dark blue color beneath her eyelids. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair trying to escape her gaze as she stood up.

“Well, all you need to know Molly is that it was for a very good reason and nothing more.” She started walking off toward her new shiny BMW. “Thank you for the tea, I think its best that I leave. Have a good day Molly.” As she got into her car I inched my way toward my old gray Honda. Something seemed out of place, she shouldn’t have been so tense about the subject when it was my life. I deserved to know, and I know knew that she definitely knew more than what she was telling me. I turned my key in the ignition of the Honda and started following her down the twisted road. I was going to get this information if it killed me.