Agathos Dorea

In the battle of time, in the battle of wills
It’s only your hope and your heart that gets killed
And it gets harder and harder to believe in the magic
Especially when what came before was so very tragic

~Patty Griffin

Standing quietly in the darkest corner of the room, it was almost eerie how easily Maggie Carson became part of the shadows. Pushing her hands deep into the pockets of her black wool overcoat, she gently leaned back against the peeling wallpaper–almost as if to see if she could put even more distance in between herself and the painful memories that still occupied the home of her childhood.

“He was the meanest man I ever knew.”

Gauging by the difficulty Maggie Carson had in bringing those words into existence, it was evident that she was still haunted by the ghosts of her past.

“He’d go out of his way to make life miserable for all of us–but especially for my sister. What kind of man does that to his family?”

“Late in the afternoon, we’d wait for him to come in from the fields. When we heard his boots hit the porch, the whole house would go silent–I remember it got so quiet we could even hear the clock ticking in the kitchen. When his hand grabbed that doorknob, we knew that someone’s life was about to turn to shit. We’d all head for a corner and hope that we didn’t get noticed.”

Fighting back the tears, Maggie Carson wrapped her arms tightly across her chest as if to shield herself from an all-too-well-known adversary. And despite a thirty year absence, she was once again vulnerable, exposed, and surrounded by the painful memories of her childhood. Looking through the ceiling and back to another place in time, there was no possible way to avert the pain that was about surface.

“My older sister Evelyn was the dreamer in the family. She’d read books about people who traveled to other countries and had big adventures. She talked about visiting the Eiffel Tower in Paris and buying dresses in New York City. And the more she dreamed, the more he threw rocks in her road.”

“But the meaner he got, the more Evie dreamed. She was set on making something of her life and nothing was going to stop her–not even him.”

“She started working at the grocery store in town. She studied hard in school–harder than anyone I ever knew. Evie saved every dime of the money she earned and then applied to a school in Ohio–she was going to study art. And everyday she’d wait by the mailbox for her letter to come. But that letter never did come. And all he could do was sit in his chair and smile.”

“Evie left later that summer–broken down and worn out. She got married a few months later, but that didn’t work out either. After that she just kind of gave up.”

“What in God’s name possesses a man to do that to his daughter?”

Pulling the door closed, Maggie Carson stood with her hand on the knob for what seemed like an eternity. Swinging the latch into place, she inserted the padlock and handed the keys to the Realtor.

“Sell it and whatever you get for it, send it to my sister. I left her address and phone number in the envelope.”

Stepping off the porch, Maggie Carson noticed that the snow was coming down harder now. In the last light of day, the clouds hung heavy just above the treetops.