Tripod: A Fiction

{ Three rooms, three people - ever since my accident, this is what my life has been confined to. For the past several years though, I've discovered that the uncertainties of the outside world are just as frightening as the truths that emerge behind closed doors. There's a delicate balance of peace within these walls, and even though I'm completely aloof in terms of my direct influence on the psychology of this family, I am completely submerged within it. I can't really walk that well, and as the days go by it feels harder to breath.

I spend most of my time with the son. He's very calm, quiet, and gives me just the right amount of attention. Unlike his sister who is constantly on the phone, gossiping to her girlfriends about the way a certain guy looked at her during school that day. Between phone calls she likes to pick me up from under my shoulders and twirl me around in a circle several times until she gets dizzy. She then plops me down on her bead and almost violently rubs the top of my head out of excitement, leaving my hair sticking out in awkward directions. This is about the time I stroll back over to the boys room to fix myself. He'll usually have his window open for me to rest on the window sill. If I'm lucky the sun will be out and the birds will be chirping. I'll stretch out, close my eyes, and lay there the rest of the day letting my imagination run free. Occasionally the boy will break away from his notebook and gently stroke behind my ears, sending me further into oblivion.

I've never been in the father's room. He always has the door closed and always seems to be doing something. From what I can hear, he does a lot of typing. He does come out from time to time to either make dinner or to check up on his kids to make sure their homework is done. From what I can tell, they all get along quite well - there never seems to be a dull moment during family meals. Lots of smiles, lots of laughs - just a normal family sharing their daily endeavors and activities. Although brief, their encounters are joyful and pleasant - nothing seems to be out of place. Naturally though, most of their thoughts are kept at bay. Not wanting to disturb the buoyancy of their relationship, much goes unsaid. Secrets have reasons for existing, but not without high potential for disaster.

One day the kids got home from school - I was resting on the son's bed at the time. Coming up the stairs with his report card in his hand, he called out, "Dad, dad! You're going to be so proud of me". His sister went in her room to change and he proceeded to knock on his father's bedroom door. There was no answer. Slightly worried he opened the door and walked in to make sure he wasn't there. He had only been in this room a few times since they moved in, and it looked slightly different from before. On the corner of the computer desk stood a small monitor. Looking more closely at the screen, he saw that there was a young girl getting undressed. Once she turned around, the boy became extremely confused.

"I thought I told you never to come in my room!", his father yelled from the door way behind him. The boy spun around to see a face he had never seen before. "Dad, I'm sorry - I was trying to find you.... I uhh....why is sister on this little t.v. over here?" "That is none of your business, get out of here right now!" "But I wanted to show you..." Before he could say anything else his father had thrashed over to where he was, lifted him off his feet and carried him all the way to his own room and slammed him down on his bed. "If you ever tell anyone about what you saw in my room, I swear to god you will end up just like your damn crippled cat".

That night was like no other. The boy held me in his arms until he fell asleep while I could barely hear the father weep silently in the other room. Things were different from then onward. The subtle balance had been offset and no one could ever hope to change that fact - the fear was too great. For once though I felt a strange sense of belonging. Broken, we find ways to compensate, to fill in the void, to maintain at least a sense of balance even though it might exist only in our imagination. }

- A short fiction by Jordan