The Hermit

My son’s small hand pulls me forward. The music from different booths are blending into each other. My legs are heavy but if I let go of his hand, he will disappear in the crowd.

“Mom! There, I found it!”

He points at a booth wedged between a waffle stand and a woodcarver. Despite the sweet vanilla scent dominating the area I make out a whiff of incense. I want to shake my head but I feel the old lady in the booth staring at me.

Why does it always have to be old ladies? How about a young handsome man telling me about my fortune?

Ethan plops onto the foldable chair in front of the booth. I want to sit as well, but he places Gunda on the other free chair. I have no option but to lean on the back of the chair.

“What can I do for you, young man?”

The voice is deep but easily audible despite the commotion around us. Ethan looks at the woman, then at Gunda and finally he turns around.

“Mom?”

I make a motion with my hand. Ethan frowns, but after patting Gunda’s hair, he places her on his lap, and I am allowed to sit down. I brush the small trace of sawdust off the cushion and sit down with a sigh.

“Ethan wants you to read his future for him. Right, honey?”

The woman nods, but she doesn’t glance in my direction anymore. Her hands have already started shuffling the cards. The beads of the jewelry around her neck and wrists clink in a unsteady rhythm. The scent of the incense is tearing my eyes.

“A wise choice, young man. Especially in early years one should know about what the future holds in their cards for them.”

My son nods, his gaze fixed on the movements. The shuffling doesn’t stop but the woman suddenly looks at me.

“Knowing the future has its price.”

I blink. Then I drop the coins into the box at the edge of the table. With the last metallic click, the shuffling resumes with the previous speed.

“So, just the future, young man?”

“Yes.”

His voice is slightly higher than usual and his arms squeeze Gunda tightly. I stare at the doll to find the hole which left the sawdust on my chair. But I can’t make out any obvious tear. As soon as we are home, I will have to examine her more carefully.

“So, treat her like family. You’ll never be alone.”

My head whips up and I see the cards displayed in front of me. I’m not used to tarot readings. The cards look quite cute and more colorful than I imagined. The last card is an old man holding a lantern. It takes a moment for me to read the letters as they are upside down.

The Hermit. I should look that up later.

“Thank you. I will take care of her.”

Ethan squeezes Gunda tighter and jumps off the chair.

“Come on, Mom. Gunda’s tired. I wanna go home.”

“Where’s Ethan? I haven’t seen my loveliest boy.”

My mother-in-law looks around with her pale eyes, scanning my living room. My husband and his father are in the garden. We have bought a lawn robot and my husband shows it to anybody who wants or doesn’t want to see it.

“In his room, probably.”

“His room? Why haven’t you told him I would be visiting?”

“I have. But …”

“You are too lenient with the boy. They should follow their parents’ commands.”

With a distinct push, she gets up and marches out of the living room.

It’s not me who gives him whatever he wants, as soon as he makes puppy eyes.

As soon as she is out of the room, I roll my eyes. For a moment I stare at the cake on her plate. While my husband and his father have inhaled three slices without comment, my mother-in-law has only picked at the cake she requested. There is a hot ball of anger in my stomach, but I only pull the tablecloth straight and follow her.

“No, Oma. Gunda still needs to finish her nap before coming to eat cake.”

I stop in front of Ethan’s room and look through the gap. My mother-in-law is towering over Ethan who is frowning at his favourite grandparent.

“It’s just a toy, Ethan. Come on. Mommy made a yummy cake. And I brought you a new toy car.”

That’s the first time I hear about that. But it explains the big bag in the entrance.

“Not now, Oma. I can’t leave Gunda. She’s family.”

My mother-in-law flinches. Then she reaches for his wrist, and pulls him up. With his pained cry I make my way into the room.

“What is this? Why are you hurting Ethan?”

“I’m not hurting the boy.”

But Ethan has tears in his eyes, which almost spill. He struggles to free himself of the grip.

“Let him go.”

I step forward. My mother-in-law hesitates. Her blue eyes are even colder than usual, but I don’t lower my gaze.

“Oh, Gunda’s awake.”

With a yank, Ethan frees himself and rushes over to Gunda. The doll lies in the small bed my husband made for it, tightly tugged into the soft blankets I sew for it.

“Mom, let’s eat some cake. Gunda’s hungry.”

“Sure, sweety. Let’s go.”

Ethan is not looking at his grandmother and with Gunda in his arms, he speeds out of the room.

“That’s not normal, Thea.”

“What do you mean? He’s a boy obsessed with a toy. It’ll fade. Come on, let’s finish our cake together.”

My inviting gesture is ignored. Instead, the older woman has her fingers tight around her lower arms. Her gaze is fixed on the small empty bed. I see a faint light-yellow residue gleam in the sunlight.

“I should’ve never let him keep her.”

The door is being slammed. There is loud stomping up the stairs followed by a loud bang and chink. I turn off the stove and rush into the corridor. One of the pictures on the wall has fallen. There are shards everywhere.

Later.

I carefully step around the shards and make my way up to Ethan’s room. I lift my hand to knock at his door, when I hear him talking to someone.

Has he brought Mira over?

“How can she ridicule you like that? It’s better to cut her out of our lives. Are you okay? Wait, I change your clothes. Then you can rest for a bit.”

There is a rustling of clothes. I now have my ear at the door, trying to make out Mira’s voice. But there is no answer instead, I hear my son hum a melody. Often enough he misses tones or his voice cracks. Then he finishes his song. I’m quite sure now that Mira is not with him.

But who else could be there?

“Are you feeling better now, Gunda? You surely look more relaxed. I will bring some food up for you later. Just rest first.”

I hear steps coming toward the door. In a panic, I rush down the stairs. Turning in the corridor I slip on the shards. I stumble, and fall. Glass cuts my palms. I stare at the floor. The smiling face of a girl hugging my son, who holds Gunda under his arm, stares up at me between pieces of glass.

I turn the corner and walk along the lockers. I feel my heart squeeze at the sight of the young adults making their way to their classes. There faces shine with bright smiles.

When has Ethan smiled like that?

I try to think of a time, but I only remember him staring at everyone with a frown. The only time the frown drops is when he interacts with Gunda.

That dratted doll.

I’m making my way to his dorm room after the conversation with the counselor.

Unhealthy behavior. Obsession.

With every step, I chew on these words. There were many more but the verdict was that Ethan needs professional help before he can continue with his studies. I exit the building and head towards the dorms. Just when I step on the small avenue leading to the dorms, I see a familiar face. She sees me as well. I know it. Her face pales and she engages more energetically with the friend next to her.

“Marlene, nice to see you.”

I need to talk to you.

The beautiful almost porcelain like face, pulls into a short grimace. The young woman next to Marlene looks at me then at her friend.

“You know this lady?”

Marlene hesitates to introduce me. The knot in my stomach tightens. I offer my hand, which the friend shakes with question marks in her eyes.

“This is my boyfriend’s … this is Ethan’s mom.”

I see the flinch and the hand is being pulled back immediately. I feel my cheeks heating up. It takes some effort to fight the urge to lower my gaze.

“Ah. Sorry. Should I leave you two …”

“There’s no need. There’s nothing to add, is there Mrs. Lindt?”

With the sun at her back, Marlene’s hair glows golden. Her white skin make her blue eyes sparkle. The resemblance is uncanny. I shiver.

“I’m sorry, Marlene.”

“You don’t have to be. I’m glad that Ethan showed his true colors. I’ll be able to move on. Ethan though …”

I nod. My throat is tight and there are no words coming out of my mouth.

“Take care, Mrs. Lindt. And … tell Ethan I wish him all the best.”

With shaking hands I turn the key in the lock and open the door. Immedietely, I am greeted by a smell of sweet perfume. I know the scent. This was one of the few times over the last year Ethan has asked me for his opinion.

The blinds are lowered and I need to switch on the light. I stop in my tracks. I see Gunda, sitting in an armchair, which is just the right size for her. The red velvet with golden details around her make her appear like a queen on a throne. There are various doll-sized pieces of furniture. The doll looks at me with its piercing blue eyes. I force myself forward, opening the blinds to let the real sunshine through the dirty windows.

With the sunlight in the room, the eerie feeling is pushed back slightly. Still, I sneak glances at Gunda from the corner of my eye.

While Gunda’s possessions fill three quarters of the one-room-flat my son’s ragged furniture is squeezed in the far-left corner. I pass his desk and stop. A pile of letters cover the surface.

Bill, bill, warning. Bill.

I sort through the pile. With every letter, my heart speeds up more. My throat is dry by the time I’m done with my chore. With a stack of ads in my hand, I want to go into the kitchenette to drink, when my gaze falls onto a list under the plastic cover in the middle of the desk.

Gunda’s enemies

The letters are written in a childish hand. I remember Ethan writing like this when he started third grade. I wipe over my eyes and read the list. The names in the childish handwriting I recognize. They are classmates from his elementary school years. I read on when I stumble over two entries on the list.

Mira !

Oma Frieda !

These names don’t have the childish curl anymore. This is the handwriting of a teenager. I swallow several times. Despite the golden sunshine filling the room, my vision is turning grey.

The writing changes a few more times. Some names are crossed out. Some are underlined. I see Marlene’s name as well as a few acquaintances he mentioned from university.

I reach the end of the list, when I hear a key in the lock being turned. I quickly look up. Gunda is staring at me. My gaze flies to the end of the list.

             Mom !