“The Look On the Face of a Re-Appropriated Memory”

By Burton Gray

One foggy day, while stuck in traffic and stewing over some discouraging news I came upon a familiar park I had once visited frequently. Faced with the prospect of being alone in my car staring at the tail end of a large SUV or turning out into the park's parking lot I chose to act on the impulse to deviate from the path set before me and take the path less traveled.

Walking through the crisp foggy air, a sense of eminent precipitation befell me. I sat down on the moist isolated bench that sat across from some random dolphin sculptures that kids could play on and looked down over the central playground and into a deep distant valley lined with backyard fences. The light was difussed and created a magical glow. A cold breeze brew through, that stiffened the hairs on the back of my neck, but then an undefinable warmth brushed across my face. It was the scent of a girl I knew in my adolescent past and the warmth began to swell around all my old memories.

When a blond boy with glasses pierced my contemplation I quickly accepted this uninvited change in consciousness as a symbol of growth and progress. I adhered to the almost perfect nature of this occurrence. This child was blond, as I was, wore glasses, as I have, and was alone, as I always was. The only difference was his chaperone was a girl, maybe a sister, who reminded me of the girl. Her posture was familiar, she moved similar, and scent she wore saturated the misty air. The floodgates of my subconscious opened: late night beach walks, sitting in boring movies, sitting in cars, sitting with her at dinners, lunches, in the car on early morning bagel runs....the situation was unique.

She sat down on the bench with me and began to read; it was as though I wasn't really there. I looked forward, away from the view, from her, the boy, and at a rather uninspiring cement building. Scared to look her way because I didn't want the dream to end; I began to fall back into my stew of discouraging concerns and felt equally fearful that I would wake myself up. Compromise was my logical response so I began to watch the ground, hunting for something to follow. I found a spider. A rather large spider walking by me and toward the girl's feet. It was as though I had willed it into existence.

Walking up her leg I tensed up and prepared my self for an inevitable reaction. She screamed just as the spider crossed the apex of her thigh. She called to the boy and they left me. I did not now these people but once more I felt abandoned.

Whenever I smell that perfume in a crowd, a coffee shop or on the street I remember the freshly cut feelings that time had learned to grow around. I become sad.

In an attempt to reappropriate my happy memories I created a parallel world in my mind, inspired by the time, weather, emotion and the scent of her perfume. I began to assimilate characteristics of the spider into myself until I morph into a dark, menacing, intrusive predator with the power to walk wherever he choses, to touch her, to freeze her, and not let her run away. I know it began as a fantasy but at some point it crossed over and I began to believe it to be a reality.

Now, when it is about to rain, I walk through a park or I smell that brand of perfume I remember the fantasy and the look on the face of my re-appropriated memory. And this makes me happy.

The End