Actaea
I need to understand a more perfect human experience.
I really like the plant called doll’s eyes. The plant looks very different than my doll’s eyes. The eyes of my dolly are black and shiny, not flat and white. These eyes sit above painted pink cheeks and stare at me lifelessly. I couldn’t look at those eyes, not because of anything the doll did, but because of the shame. I feel guilty about many things, but I don’t think it’s my fault. Momma sometimes says, “I’m acting just how I see everyone else acting.” Sometimes I toss the doll away ’cause I wanna play with something else.
It’s only plastic and doesn’t do nothin’ back.
I get told I am just a child and that dolls are childish, too.
I heard that some things just swirl around, and I need to understand a more perfect human experience. I don’t know what that means. I am afraid of things that make no sense.
When I don’t understand, sometimes I hold on to that doll; I can’t let go.
Sometimes, this plant I found is called a doll’s eye, but at other times, it’s called a baneberry. It has thin, red sticks that reach up from the grass, and white berries with a black, dotted pupil. Behind the barn are tall trees and a whole bunch of baneberry plants. I like to pick those berries. I head out there sometimes. I pick the whitest berries with the darkest black pupils, and I put ’em in a worn-out pouch. I’ve got a bunch now… dozens.
At night, I turn on that old desk lamp, the one with no shade, and I spread the berries out. I position each with the pupil facing up.
I stare down at them.
I stare without shame.
They don’t reflect my face.
I put my doll on the desk above ’em. I gently push her head down so she can stare at them, too. It’s not dumb. It makes me feel better. We look together, and we think the same thing.
When my uncle died, we got all his old books. Most of them made no sense, and some books my father burned. I was wicked and looked through the bad books before he burned ’em. There aren’t many left now.
I found a good one once; it was about plants.
I loved to flip through that book. The pictures are so beautiful. I went through all the pages and found the doll’s eye plant. A lot of it was strange, and some of the words I didn’t understand, but it turns out that the white baneberry plant is poisonous. The book said that if you ingest the doll’s eyes, it causes cardiac arrest.
Ingest just means eat, and I know from when Daddy let me go to school that cardiac means heart.
Arrest is a weird word, but I know what it means because I saw my aunt get arrested a few days after my uncle died.
One time, Daddy got arrested, too. I am not quite sure how you arrest a heart. I bet it’s kinda like the bible, how it says one thing and means something different. I remember the bible says a lot about the heart, but it means the soul instead, and sometimes it doesn’t. Arresting a soul seems impossible, but I don’t know.
I hid the plant book with the doll’s eyes. I wanted to ask my parents about cardiac arrest, but every time I ask a question, I get into trouble, so I’m not asking anything anymore. I’ve been trying to spend all my time behind that old barn. I take my doll with me, and sometimes I pretend to give it a berry. I want her arrested.
Her heart arrested.
Her soul.
I want her soul arrested.
Sometimes I pretend to eat a berry too, ’cause I don’t wanna see anybody.
I see Daddy when he takes me to church. I listen to the sermon and hear all that confusing talk about hearts and life after death. I think about how things would change if Daddy died. After church, I go back to those fields and pick the baneberries. I think about souls while I am out there.
I tasted a berry once, just a little bit, and it was bitter, like coffee. Daddy drinks strong coffee, but he won’t let me try it. I can smell it on his breath.
It’s funny how one word can have so many different meanings. Bitter is one of those funny words. I think about the bible and how it says, “See to it that no bitter root spring up and cause trouble.” I wonder what is more bitter?
When I see my face reflected in the eyes of my doll, I think maybe I am the bitter root that causes trouble. I am always in trouble. What is the difference between someone being in trouble and someone who causes trouble?
I thought about it — you know, about being trouble.
I thought about bitter roots. I thought about grinding up those doll’s eyes and putting them in Daddy’s coffee.
I also thought about eating a handful of those berries.
I wanted to go away and never be seen again, like my aunt and uncle. I thought more about the kingdom being a mustard seed. I know it didn’t mean an actual mustard seed, and they never mean what they say in that stupid book.
One night, I snuck out after dark; I spread all but two of those berries around the back of that barn. I figured if I did that, next summer, maybe a few more doll’s eye plants would grow back there. I went back inside and found a little teaspoon that Daddy liked using. I took that spoon and dug out the eyes of my doll. I felt sad at first, but I couldn’t stand it when it looked at me. I stuck the two prettiest baneberries in the holes above my doll’s cheeks. I made sure the pupils were just right. I went to bed. I looked that doll in the eyes for a long time before I fell asleep. I wasn’t sure, but I like the new eyes much better.
Eye in the Sky: The Horus Cycle - here
I enjoyed and identified with this story, not so much with because of the kid's obviously abysmal family life (mine was sort of bad, but not nearly this bad) but because I think we don't give kids the credit they deserve when they make honest observations or want answers about something. We tend to underestimate their profundity and intelligence. Obviously, there is curiosity there, along with incomplete comprehension or experience, which doesn't exactly go away as adults, although then we just conceal it. The story captured feelings of fear, anger and self-deprecation that don't exactly go away in adulthood, yet also the basic needs we all have as both kids and adults for acknowledgement, attention, nurturing, honesty and comfort from those around us. And when we don't get it, we start doing destructive things, like scooping out our doll's eyes, or worse. Thanks for making me think about all this.
I really enjoy the tone here, it captures what children sound like accurately. While I read this I felt the incessant curiosity of children was highlighted and also how knowledge is sought by all of us and yet, is elusive.