"Too many things have changed. Too much time has passed. I'm different now, a man with a pocketful of unconnected but terribly vivid memories. I was looking to dredge up what I'd long forgotten. Most of all, I am wishing for something to fasten all these gems, maybe something to hold them in a continuity that I can comprehend."
― Andrew X. Pham, Catfish and Mandala: A Two-Wheeled Voyage Through the Landscape and Memory of Vietnam
After a steady amount of time, only measured and judged by his Girl child, did Uncle Charlie begin to realize he wasn't considered a threat, no threat at all. He didn't mind the constant reintroduction in the beginning, and always somewhere in the middle of their impromptu conversations that would sometimes end and begin again when he least expected. It was during these random times, becoming more consistent, he began to garner more than enough information to know which one to trust and which one kept up more devilment than the devil himself if one were to let Granny tell it. It took a few years for all three personalities to become more than just quiet, always talkative, or suddenly tomboyishly masculine.
Uncle Charlie was content to be in her presence regardless of the deafening silence, the giddy giggles, or the meanest spoken word to ever come from a child without a slap to her face or a mouthful of lye soap. He will never forget the long period dealing with Onne that prompted him to have to go and seek a mind doctor for his Girl Child. Not an exorcist like Granny had insisted.
One thing for sure, there was no candy involved or any games of 'let us pretend' used to lure his girl child to him. It was merely Uncle Charlie's questions that were thoughtful. He wanted to understand his Girl Childs' state of mind. His exact word choice hooked her past-life to help him understand why she was who she was right then and right now. He did notice two shared the same inquisitive nature. Uncle Charlie's consistent stance, attitude, and certain cadence when he spoke helped to entice her out of her shell, where she would typically hide.
"You can come on from behind that tree, my Girl Child." Uncle Charlie felt a nice tug on his fishing line.
"My name is Michonne."
"I can hear you better if you come closer. I'm an old man. My concentration and hearing can only go so far when fishing. I think I got a nice one. Come close enough to check em out." Uncle Charlie invited.
The sound beneath her feet startled Michonne, causing her awareness of her surroundings to become more acute, purposeful, increasingly directional. Michonne couldn't help wanting to be around the old man because he seemed to care enough by being mad enough to shoot all the bad men dead. He was like a superhero to her. She didn't have to imagine one coming to her rescue when she had him willing to take out all the bad guys. He was definitely old, but he was powerful behind his rifle or pistol.
"My name is Michonne." She had repeated more for herself to quiet the thought that it shouldn't be her speaking for her or them or self.
"Do you know how to fish, Girl Child?" Uncle Charlie had asked, not acknowledging her chosen name that changed with the wind with no apparent reason to why?
"My name is Michonne." She insisted.
"Is that what your Mama named you or what you call yourself when you feel curious about fish?"
Michonne shrugged while absently touching a locket that dangled from her neck. It was the only photo Michonne had of the woman that had re-entered her life before quickly meeting her unexpected death. It was her souvenir given to her from a mysterious Mister when she was eight. She was now fifteen. The woman in the locket was the same woman who was strangled within five minutes of entering Granny's house. The Mister made her promise to not tell a soul. She pissed herself. He had eventually left quietly in the night when moments later, Granny made her return from a fight with another woman to find Michonne used up and tossed like an unwanted rag doll. There was a fire that night. A long-time spent in the waiting room of the emergency where she was pressed against her Granny's bosom. None of it made sense, and it was quickly dismissed.
Either way, Michonne wasn't sure of the answer to where she got her name because there were other names she went by at the drop of a hat from what Granny would tell her. Happy child, quiet child, and mean as the devil child.
"I don't have a mama," Michonne spoke a fact calmly while a brawl began to escalate in her gut. Two others wanted attention from the old man while she held center stage; she remained, and they were forced to listen.
"Every girl child needs one. Boy child too. Can't be coming into the world without the two people who created you. Without them, I suppose you get what you get, and sometimes it ain't fair what you got. Has to be planned. I'm to blame for sure. Never planned a day in my life." Uncle Charlie took a large fish from his hook that he had just reeled in and threw it in the bucket where it splashed and flopped before it eventually became quiet, still.
"Never too late." Michonne glanced down at the dingey white bucket half full with water from the river, now holding three captive catfish. The second bucket was empty, except for the murky water that it contained, sediment slowly settling to the bottom.
"I knew your Mama was too young for me. Now, this is coming from a sober mind, not swayed by moonshine. Let me be the first to tell you, enough alcohol in a man brings out demons, or it allows a man's guard to come down, and before he knows it, robbed blind of his heart and his life savings from right under his floorboard." Uncle Charlie turned to spit.
"Why'd you spit like that?"
"Bad taste of the past. Can't swallow when spitting out the truth. Heard that saying truth is sometimes hard to swallow?"
"I would think lying is harder to swallow?"
"Not for a lot of people it ain't. Some can swallow a whale and not choke. It is the truth about most things that make our stomach churn. Causes nightmares. We have to deal with what is true to move forward. Straight. Just like so, I say."
"Granny says you make sense when you want."
"How I'm doing right now with making sense?"
"You make sense all the time to me," Michonne admitted while a sense of wellbeing washed over her unexpectedly.
"I would make a lot more sense to your Granny if she listened more and talked less. I know the bible has a lot of words in them, but if I were a gambling man, I would put quite a bit of money on it that more words are your Granny's than God's. Indeed, I would bet that, along with all the money left in my floorboard, Indeed!"
"I thought you said my mama took all you had?"
"She did. Indeed she did. I deserved it. It was what an old man like me gets for thinking that old and young mixed like cake and frosting. It don't mostly, but it was the only time I felt young and alive. That is for true."
"Why didn't you spit if it was true."
"Ugly truth. Nothing ugly about feeling young and alive. That, I can swallow." Uncle Charlie grinned.
"My granny says my mama was fast too."
"Your Mama wasn't fast. Don't let your Granny put that in your head, you hear me. You ain't fast, and she wasn't."
"What was she then?"
"Surviving. Your Mama was in survival mode. Anyone should know would be your Granny, I say."
"Granny says this world ain't safe for a girl child."
"I suppose not then. It is, right now. Makes me damn satisfied."
"Killing those men makes you happy?" Onne asked.
"Happy and satisfied ain't the same, Girl child." Uncle Charlie cut his eye to see if there was any visible change other than the male-sounding voice that came from his daughter.
Michonne sat on the same log as Uncle Charlie but kept enough of a distance, still skittish to a degree, nearly ready to bolt when he cast his fishing line as far as he could to catch more supper.
"Sometimes, I feel nothing, nothing at all. Other times I'm scared when I have no real reason to be afraid. There are times I think I feel satisfied. I don't think I have ever been happy."
Suzanne had a good idea of the difference, and she shared what she knew by correlating happiness with sweets and false promises of fun games, stuffed animals, and more candy. Michonne felt physically ill with no tangible memories as to why?
"Girl child, I wouldn't be surprised none if all you've been through going around with your Granny from place to place-."
"Granny always had a place for us. We just had to leave fast because of what she had to do to that, Mister. She said if he lived to tell, we would be split up, and foster care was just another scary place no child without a mind to know all people aren't good people to wind up. But mostly, we had a place to stay until Granny ran out of options."
"Church?"
"She made the church upset with her, and because of that, we had no choice." Onne provided details Michonne wouldn't be aware of until years later.
Eventually, Uncle Charlie was able to know what to consider cold hard facts dealing with different narrators regarding the same events.
Uncle Charlie lowered his voice, "I want every single name from that congregation, do you hear me, Girl Child? Every single name of every single man."
Onne was trying to think about who to include on this list of grievances he had tallied, but Suzanne had the floor, using Michonne's voice box, and persistently crowding him out to take up all of the old man's attention. If Onne could only reach that happy Suzanne's imaginary dress to yank clear off of her body, he would be able to get her to clam up or cause a keen sense of hysteria. He couldn't reach Suzanne, who was standing tall on a soapbox that kept growing, keeping the most feminine personality out of his reach.
Suzanne had the old man's ear filled with tedious details of who in the hell care events.
"We couldn't stay with Granny's Big sister. Her big sister wasn't having any parts of Granny. She wouldn't even give us anything to drink neither. She didn't care that a person has to have a place to live, and we had nowhere else to go. Mentioning any misters got Granny good and mad. She was done with them. Done with them all."
"Can't imagine how many it took for her to know good and damn well..."
Suzanne shrugged. She didn't have the answers. This was a topic that Granny didn't like to talk about, discuss, reminisce, or bring to any light if the older woman could avoid it. Michonne knew this, but Onne didn't give two damns. He just needed to be sure that the church three miles away was the same place of worship regardless of the abrupt name change. Onne needed a dress to enter to refresh his memory of the Ushers, deacon, and pastor.
"...make no never mind about it," Uncle Charlie continued, "I will take them all down, one by one. You remember, I remember. I won't rest my Girl Child until they are all pushing up daisies. "
"Daisies?"
"Now that is a flower worth praising. Not many people understand that we all deserve the same happiness they show on that television. We all deserve to be happy and feel safe, all at the same time. In time you will be able to discern between being satisfied and being happy. I only pray I live long enough to see it. Pave a road for it. Right now, it is dripping in blood, red dirt road. The day will come. You will know the difference between satisfied and happy."
A/N: This has been an undertaking, to say the least. I have been avoiding updating because I kept (I know this is going to sound weird) I could no longer hear Granny nor Uncle Charlie while proofreading. I was led back to this story by recent reviews and this morning and evening I was able to stay focus. I think this will be my first Youtube story to read aloud. I still find this story fascinating and I think about it every day. To me, it is like life has been breathed into each of these characters.
Next chapter coming shortly...