Chap 3 The Green House

by Shin

 

 

 

 

Sara had a restless night. At five in the morning, she packed a sandwich with some coffee and drove to Jefferson park, a public garden in the northern part of town.

She felt a vague dizziness that combined with intermittent spells that resembled highs and lows in her moods. They alternated with each other rapidly, producing a mild balance of issues in which it appeared that she might agree to anything. After all, everything had a basis in the experience of the individual.

Had she been too easy with Matthias? The words ' penis envy ' came up right away. Why did it have to be this difficult always, she wondered.

She made her way to the arboretum, found a bench and sat down. She was in a tropical forest. All around her, in the green house, were trees, flowers and specimens from the tropics. She came here every time she had to get away from it all. It represented something far far away.

In the middle of the tropical forest was a huge ' flame of the forest,' a tree that grew to about twenty-five feet in height with small flowers that were bright red in color. It must have appeared like the forest is on fire from the airplanes above, she thought.

The tree's position in the center of the green house drew the attention of all the other plants, or so it appeared to her. It helped her to transfer her own self conscious feelings to the tree and to the environment around her.

The row of orchids represented her father, which in their variety of species competed for attention with the flame of the forest. She saw her mother as the ' golden shower tree ' with flowers that hung like garlands around the tree creating a look of festivity.

Her own position in the center was not something she was prepared to give up, but today, her eyes traveled to the clump of yellowish green bamboos with their sharp leaves, that stood clearly upright and the stems comprised sections, like equal parts of itself, distributed all over the bamboo. It calmed her.

She rose and walked over to the flame of the forest in the center.

“ What are you telling me my friend?” she asked.

She felt a stir in her chest. It was the same place that she sometimes felt rages of anger that pulled on her passions and shut it down. It was one way she managed to get past situations that she simply couldn't bring herself to face.

She continued walking past the tree over the small wooden bridge that arched over the tiny stream that had been designed just below to create the sound of flowing water. Above, the yellow mynahs were flying in pairs, creating the throaty whistle that echoed around the green house.

“ I'm a lot better than I used to be,” she mumbled to herself. “ What's this about then?”

It had been a strange but ecstatic chat with Matthias in the bar. It was like a real conversation. She recalled always playing the svengali with men....it was either that or let them play svengali. She had been proud of her ability to do so, yet it lacked real passion in the relationship. It was nice to let go a little.

Her thoughts went to the case of the Vietnamese family and then to her own marriage. When it failed it happened for the most curious of reasons.

She had allowed Tom a degree of control over their relationship. In what she thought was the most bizarre of experiences, she always felt his presence and voice even when he wasn't around. It was a dual experience of Tom in which she found later, one was not actually in agreement with the other.

Why did she think that, she wondered?

She had believed that Tom was playing at being unmindful of her own individual relations with him, on the occasions when he wasn't around. Why did she do that?

He had told her later that she was imagining things.

Krish had helped her manage the experience of duality. How? She figured she'll come to understand it someday.

Her thoughts went back to her childhood and the first day, her father had introduced her to that standing statue of a man holding his coat lapel in the middle of town. She thought of her godfather, her father's best friend. She figured later that it was her godfather who represented a sense of presence in her life that she had confused with Tom. It had helped to stabilize her experience.

She remembered going to meet him, some weeks after the divorce came through. It became a substitute for her that she practiced with the enthusiasm of a Joan of Arc.

“ I'm sorry to hear about the divorce,” he had said.

“ I overdid it in some way. I thought I felt him in some part of me and referred to him that way. His response to it became a self fulfilling prophecy for him.”

“What do you think it is?” he had asked.

“It's the same spot that the pastor occupies when I go to church or the Christ. Now I think it is in some ways you as well.”

 

“ I hear you are going to yoga classes?” he had asked.

“I just started a few weeks ago. It helps me to relax.”

It was his way of distracting the issues when it made a reference to him. Then he'll come back to it.

“When your father asked me to be your godfather I wasn't sure. But years later I realized that it was the only thing I did that made a difference to my sensitivities.”

He had paused to pace the room.

“ When a person makes a commitment that way, it appears to him that here's a situation that he brings his all to apply to issues. It's a sensible way to come into contact with the god idea. And with regards to your own welfare, I have never felt but the most positive indications of your nature, of your innocence and the fact that even your own naïve sense at times, plays a part in the way you conduct your affairs.”

The sharp shriek of a bird call brought her back to her surroundings in the green house.

She had felt nervous in her conversation with Matthias, especially when sharing private information. She had sensed his own anxiety.

She made her way to the door. The humidity in the green house had become quite hot.

She couldn't say for certain how she perceived the suggestion regarding Yang, in the Vietnamese case. It had occurred to her always that when all else fails, it appeared natural to want to plough back everything and look at things from another way.

She was reminded of Bootes, the plough man, in the constellations. Did nature itself conceive a need as such for itself?

As she left, she turned to look at the green house again and wondered about the idea the town council had to put it there in the park. Did they know something?

' People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones,' she said absent-mindedly.

She had picked up this sudden thrust of thought into her speech after the divorce. It was as if she had kept it hatched down for too long and would come tumbling out unannounced. It was almost child like. Eccentric? Is that what happens to all college professors? The inquiries were endless.

 

Reviews

[Marie]

Just interesting enough to keep me reading.
One suggestion:


The humidity in the green house had become quite hot.(Humidity does not become hot. Either say "The humidity had become quite unpleasant", or "The green house had become quite hot."