Friday, February 5, 2010
LXXVIII: Susan VII
Friday, January 8th, 2010.
"Yeah, what was that?" Susan asked when we talked about our New Year's Day encounter with the Trees for the first time. It was a week after the event and we were sitting at her kitchen table working our way through a bottle of red wine after supper.
"Did you really hear anything?" I asked. The words seemed to resist leaving my mouth. A little.
"I don't know. I think so," replied Susan. "I'm pretty sure, yeah. Didn't you?" I think she was feeling the resistance too. She looked at me as if to say, 'Are you really asking this?'
I could respond only to her words. "Well, not in a reliable way. But yeah, I heard -or sorta saw- something. And you were a part of it. A part of the thing I saw."
"It was like I was inside a feeling," she said. "A feeling and a sound." She looked excited and sympathetic, but still unsure. As if an expressed skepticism might blow down her paper walls.
The whole situation was getting to me. I put my head in my hands, overcome by a feeling as vague as the one Susan was describing. Something like a holding back, a blocking, a backwards-downwards motion. "This is too much." I looked at her and knew she understood.
She said, "maybe we shouldn't be talking about it."
"Okay." I rose from the chair. "Let's just go out there again. To the Trees."
"You should bring your video camera."
Nothing happened. Just us, cold, looking at some trees. Trees. All I shot was the snow.