The Tempest

She was born in a storm, the cyclone turned out to be a flash flood, and the parents believed they gave birth to an angel; for they were Gods. At least they liked to think that way. Mother considered herself to be suffering on behalf of her little girl's sins; although this was entirely unnecessary because their beloved would never do harm. No one sobbed that day but their angel, who wept uncontrollably; we now know she cried the first time she opened her eyes, bearing witness to a world full of catastrophe and a family in shambles. As the sweating mother cradled her baby, the matron’s brown eyes spoke to the father, confirming that they would name their little seraph Cindy-Cindy Cinderella. The doctor tried to hold back a snicker but excused himself before it was too late, holding his hand to mouth; and suddenly bursting with laughter and snorting uncontrollably. Cindy-Cindy Cinderella’s dad was too drunk to understand; now people think the mother was drunk too and didn't know she already said "Cindy" twice during the process of naming. Nonetheless, that was her: the angel who was born to a sinful family during a tempest.



Getting used to people being shocked, with gaping expressions after every utterance of the name was hard for the parents at first, but they always insisted on the full name. Their next child, (a boy, exactly two years after Cindy's birth - at that exact moment of the boy's birth, Cindy's first word was "Cindy", even she wanted an abridgment apparently) was named Me-Mi. The same doctor almost soiled his pants after hearing the childish name slip from the mother's tongue. The father would probably have objected to this name but he lacked any life, he was decapitated in a drink-induced car accident while picking up diapers for Cindy.



So there were M&M and Cindy; both would get along wonderfully, both survivors of the torturous grasp of a cult-driven, grieving mother. One day, while bathing her angel after the mother cried for hours, she realized the ecstatic and meditative aurora of the mirthful child while Cindy splashed in the sink. It was as if the water embraced her – with a tenderness of a loving mother – and she in return understood the water. Creeks, rivers, and oceans were all Cindy's. If it was a flowing entity, the water gave itself to her.



The child dipped her finger into the water and swirled the clear liquid around with the tip of her finger. And at that moment, Mama Perfection knew Cindy was her enemy.



At age eleven, Cindy was a child soldier; M&M played with barbies. She would come into the house covered with mud, wearing ripped jeans and a T-shirt that was too long for her. M&M would beg and whimper if his mother took away his dolls. The gender blurs greatly worried their mother and she rushed them to a child therapist. His name was Dr. Lucas Ferand and he was a giant, startling creature. His eyebrows were connected. He wore a full beard with a long unkempt ponytail slithering down his back. The man was stern. If a person could become invisible and observe Dr. Luci-Fer speaking with Mama Perfection, it would be nearly impossible to realize who had control. With a Bible on the lap of the mother and the DSM-IV held firmly in the doctor's grip, the two conspirators seemed as if they were plotting a country's destruction rather than discussing appropriate solutions for what the mother considered to be a dire situation at hand. With little information about either child save that one is a girl and the other a boy, the doctor came up with a solution: punishment. This was so ambiguous it seemed to be a cunning placement made by the fox rather than an innocent or disinterested word of counsel. Happily, the mother with fearful intentions took action; she would smite Cindy and M&M for their mixed up gender-based play.



She knew water wouldn't break Cindy, she tried that before: threw her in water and she swam, threw boiling water at her and it cooled. It was a shame to the mother the latter didn't work because she would have liked to call it Holy Water –and if Cindy burned –she a witch. But Mama Perfection knew she could be swift in punishment and got to work. Every day the boy cried she would beat him to the point that he was unrecognizable and send him to his room and take out the bulb for twelve hours without feeding him. Cindy would get beaten too, then stripped of her clothes and put to shame outdoors, locked outside for twelve hours.



To the children the extended and brutal confinement was recess. As the mother would have her hands free and resort to Bible studies, Cindy would have an unspoken arrangement for M&M to climb out the window into freedom. Those hours were triumphant remembrances for the children. They would run and skip to the forest and jump in the river. Cindy taught M&M to swim, she taught him to think, she taught him to survive; she was the soldier winning the war against a familiar terror. M&M would never be happy save for those moments. Cindy was always happy; she was born in the gale, which delivered her into the womb of a world; a delightful earth for her. The birds sang, the trees danced, and the creeks whispered their secrets of eternity. Nature’s existence appeared to be intended for Cindy and she vowed to recycle that gift to her brother.



Frequently M&M would slip through his dungeon, past the keeper of hell – for even Satan sleeps – and find Cindy gratefully trapped in the stars. Those moments were the stillest of them all, he would quietly cry in her arms as Cindy granted him freedom. So the two acknowledged they were free, sleeping in space. The darkness of forever was only cured by the stars and the moonlight. Cindy smiled. As did Me-Mi. They smiled not because the miraculous two would never suffer; they were smart enough to know there was much pain up the road. They smiled because the road was clear in the light of the moon, and if the white giant grins down upon them, then they too will brightly walk hand-in-hand up the road to outlast the mysterious night.