"What do you see when I show you those slides?"
"I see a house, three boys leaning up against a car, and a butterfly, sir."
Dr. Thorne exhaled impatiently, knowing he should have expected that answer.
"I understand this, Jonathan. But why do you see these things? Do they reflect memories or images of home? Do they have to do with the murdering of your father?" Dr. Thorne can no longer stop himself. All of his questions, some twenty years old, can no longer be contained inside of him, unanswered.
"Is the house you see the house in which you killed your father? Are the three boys leaning against a car your three brothers who watched as you were arrested and beaten?" Pausing only to take a breath Dr. Thorne continues.
"But what, Jonathan, what is the butterfly? Where does it come from? What does it mean. Everyday you see it, every time. There must be a reason for it Jonathan. Tell me." The doctor falls quiet, yet the ghost of his questions still occupy the small room.
The patient opens his swollen, tired eyelids. He turns his head towards Dr. Thorne, catching his eye for the first time in a very long time. Dr. Thorne notices his arm has stopped shaking.
"Sir, if I tell you, you have to promise to believe me."
"Of course, Jonathan. Of course I promise to believe you." The doctor's heart beat begins to quicken. Finally, resolution. He has waited so long.
"First off, sir. The house I see in those slides is not the house I was arrested in. The house I see is the first house I lived in, sir. It's the house that my father burned down. He was drunk, and angry, and tired of living poor. He burnt the whole place down one day, collected the insurance, and was gone, sir. The house I was arrested in, the house I... The house I killed my father in was not that house, sir. It was nothing like that house."
Dr. Thorne listens carefully. Occasionally forgetting to breath.
" And the three boys, Jonathan. Not your brothers?"
"Yes, sir. They're my brothers, alright. But not the day I was arrested. Not that day at all. It was the day my father came back that I see when I look at that slide. We were all out in the yard playing with the dog when he drove right up to the house. He got out of the car, I didn't see him. My brothers did though and they lined up right against my mother's car. Acting like if they didn't move, he couldn't see them. I heard him hit one of them and I turned. I turned and saw them all leaning up against that car like nothing happened. Like nothing ever happened.
"I see a house, three boys leaning up against a car, and a butterfly, sir."
Dr. Thorne exhaled impatiently, knowing he should have expected that answer.
"I understand this, Jonathan. But why do you see these things? Do they reflect memories or images of home? Do they have to do with the murdering of your father?" Dr. Thorne can no longer stop himself. All of his questions, some twenty years old, can no longer be contained inside of him, unanswered.
"Is the house you see the house in which you killed your father? Are the three boys leaning against a car your three brothers who watched as you were arrested and beaten?" Pausing only to take a breath Dr. Thorne continues.
"But what, Jonathan, what is the butterfly? Where does it come from? What does it mean. Everyday you see it, every time. There must be a reason for it Jonathan. Tell me." The doctor falls quiet, yet the ghost of his questions still occupy the small room.
The patient opens his swollen, tired eyelids. He turns his head towards Dr. Thorne, catching his eye for the first time in a very long time. Dr. Thorne notices his arm has stopped shaking.
"Sir, if I tell you, you have to promise to believe me."
"Of course, Jonathan. Of course I promise to believe you." The doctor's heart beat begins to quicken. Finally, resolution. He has waited so long.
"First off, sir. The house I see in those slides is not the house I was arrested in. The house I see is the first house I lived in, sir. It's the house that my father burned down. He was drunk, and angry, and tired of living poor. He burnt the whole place down one day, collected the insurance, and was gone, sir. The house I was arrested in, the house I... The house I killed my father in was not that house, sir. It was nothing like that house."
Dr. Thorne listens carefully. Occasionally forgetting to breath.
" And the three boys, Jonathan. Not your brothers?"
"Yes, sir. They're my brothers, alright. But not the day I was arrested. Not that day at all. It was the day my father came back that I see when I look at that slide. We were all out in the yard playing with the dog when he drove right up to the house. He got out of the car, I didn't see him. My brothers did though and they lined up right against my mother's car. Acting like if they didn't move, he couldn't see them. I heard him hit one of them and I turned. I turned and saw them all leaning up against that car like nothing happened. Like nothing ever happened.
