"I take it you have not opened the envelope?" asked Zoe.
"No."
"Why?"
"Fear, I think. Seems silly doesn't it. This old man, afraid of a memory."
"I would think--"
"That I would want to know my son."
"Yes."
"I do."
"So open the envelope."
"I wish it were that easy."
"Tell me what is so hard, what is the fear?"
"To remember the son is to remember the father. And--"
"He loved you Von. I've told you that. His admiration--"
"I know."
"So what is the problem?"
"What if it is not true. What if I was not the father he told you about. What then?"
Zoe stood and opened her arms. "Then you become the grandfather that makes him smile from heaven."
6 comments:
For those new to the story, here is the backstory to help make sense of this chapter:
Von had a son named Ceru. In the service, Von was a prisoner of war and under interrogation, in seven steps, they erased all memory of his son (they had hoped to break him). After Von left the planet on Bravo, Ceru met, fell in love with and had a child with Zoe. Ceru, before he died, gave Zoe an envelope with the key to unlocking his father's memory, to be used in conjunction with the Book of Letters (these were letters Ceru wrote to his father when he was imprisoned and only given to him on the dock the day of Von's departure (a whole series of postings tells this part of the story). As we see here, Von has not opened the envelope, although I think in time, perhaps, he will. Since Zoe's arrival on Bravo, she has been filling him in on Ceru's last days and sharing bits and pieces of what Ceru told her about his father.
By way of inspiration, because I know my dearest Sunshine likes to know where these chapters come from:
Yesterday, I drove to Louisiana. As I was driving and thinking of all the stuff I've been boxing, I thought of my star charts purchased shortly after Christopher was born. I was determined to learn the night sky and to know the stars and constellations like the back of my hand so that when he was old enough, the two of us could sit in the backyard and I could point them out and tell their stories.
So, in The Story, Von has inherited my star charts. And he has carried them with him on Bravo, although as everyone on board knows, they are of no literal value anymore. In a chapter to come, Von is going to explain why he has held on to them, which I think is obvious, which is to say, one of his few links to Ceru, to his own sense of fatherhood, to the idea that he was a good father. Stay tuned. :-)
The opening line of this story again comes from my packing and boxing and coming across some of my old journals, which as Von says, were kept intermittently. And as I was reading of what I wrote so many years ago, so many memories too, long tucked away, came back. So for the purposes of The Story and Von, he too has a few journals and it is by these journals that he knows a few things and likewise, by the star charts he has faithfully retained.
The painting is Zoe. I did this one a few years ago using Corel's Painter X. I think Ceru was a lucky Hynerian. :-D
No words to describe just how wonderful it is to have this part of the story resume. Zoe, the soft fullness of her lower lip, the delicate beauty of her eyes, the line of her jaw, as lovely as her portrait is, it is your words that have painted her, dozens of images, with Ceru, with Von, like the other characters, her aura, her essence if you will has poured forth, free and full and filling, from the beginning, like the other characters, she is uniquely Zoe.
The two of them, through many scenes already, sitting, wordlessly or in conversation, merely seeing them together, each of them with a seperate history, seperate memories of Ceru, at different times of his life, both of them loving him, united in their love and their grief, merely the frame, a scene containing the two of them is enormously moving in itself.
I love that you immediately after Christopher's birth had such dreams, made such plans. Your words here made me think of the picture that you recently posted of him with his face above a light. The dark and light, night and stars, photographer and subject, father and son, love. Love.
As captured as I and so many others have been by the various stories within the story, the Von/Ceru (and Zoe) chapters cast anchor and never drifted.
The mere idea that we will see more of Von, that we may watch him open the envelope (and all that will follow), the mere promise, possibility fans anticipation to a level that could only be reclassed as awe, pure, simple, for a story that evokes such overwhelming and genuine love.
Love the story, love hearing of your inspiration, love hearing from you. Love, hugs, wishes and sweet dreams when you get that far. :-)
Wonderful, seamless continuance - how you do that is astounding. It reminds me of old friends, the best of friends, picking up where they left off, as though only a day had gone by, each instantly recognizable to the other. Your characters, regardless of how long passes between each time that we see them, they appear so clearly and as complete as ever. I have never known a writer like you. Never forget the extent of your gift, the breath and depth of your touch. Special heart. x
My dear Autumn, all I desire is peace and quiet in order to write. I had an window of the two this morning and then life started knocking at my door. :-D
I still remember vividly when the Book of Letters chapters came to me. As you might recall, I was driving home from Atlanta and as I envisioned those chapters, perhaps some of the most moving in The Story, and I remember this clearly because I was on highway 96 at the time, but I remember as the scene played itself out in my mind, tears rolled down my face. I could see Von so clearly when he opened the folio and realized what it was his son had not only left for him, but had done. To think that Ceru has given Zoe and envelope with the key to unlocking his memory is almost beyond my capacity to hold emotionally. And I can already see the chapters to come, of Von in his quarters, of opening the folio, the letters to holographic manifest, of the light, so ruby, so bright, of him walking into that light, of placing the key within, of the kaleidoscope of neuronic activity as one slots into the other and all that he had lost comes back; or perhaps, as none of it comes back. Times like these, my mind moves faster than my ability to type, to record, to document. And it is times like this that I forget just how rich the story is and how much more there is to mine. As always, your comments mean the world to me. Thank you.
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