“I know who you are,” the man says. “I feel I should be forthcoming and tell you that. I don’t know why I acted like I didn’t.”
“I’m sure I stand out,” I say, not feeling uncomfortable by his confession. Maybe I should, but I don’t. “And I understand why you wouldn’t want to act like you know who I am. I get it.”
“You know, I can relate with you in some ways,” he replies.
I turn my head and look at him. “How?”
“I was a prisoner of war for years. I served in the Korean War. Held captive for so long that I lost time. And when I was eventually rescued and returned to the land of the living… well, I felt like everything was either too big or too small as well. I felt more captive than I ever did before. Sometimes I missed my prison. At least in my prison, I knew what to expect. I had learned my prison. It was part of me. Being free didn’t always feel free.”
I don’t say anything but stare at the statue again, examining the parts of the artwork that have been polished to a smoothness that nearly erases the texture of the surface. The man seems to say exactly what I’m feeling. I don’t think anyone would understand me if I told them I miss not being able to leave the schoolhouse.
I miss my cat.
I miss what I considered my home.
I miss Papa Rich and knowing his schedule.
I miss watching the tourists from afar.
I liked knowing I was safe behind the No Trespassing signs. Now, there are no signs to keep me safe.
“How did you deal with it?” I ask. “How did you find your place again?”
“I didn’t for a really long time. And if I’m being honest, I’m always a little off the normal path others walk. I tried to fit in the perfect bubble, but it suffocated me. Therapy helped, and I sometimes still go. I think it will always be there to haunt me. But I can tell you it does get easier with time. It’s also okay to accept yourself for the way you are. You’re different. You experienced a different life. There’s no way anyone can truly understand you except you. So, love yourself. Be patient with yourself. Give yourself the grace you need to heal. Now that you are away from the enemy, you’re going to realize the real enemy is you.”
“I want to be normal. I don’t want to be different,” I confess. “And it’s hard to love myself. I wish I could just be like everyone else. I wish the nightmares would disappear. But they don’t. No matter what I do, they are here. And not just when I’m asleep. I have waking nightmares.”
“That’s okay. I had them too. I sometimes still do, but they ease too.”
“I hope so. I really do.”
“Embrace who you are. It’s taken me a long time to be able to do that myself. You’re young and will eventually find your way.”
We stand in silence for several minutes, both staring at the bronze sculpture.
“I really should be going,” I say, feeling as if others are starting to recognize who I am, and it’s just a matter of time until pictures are taken and the media arrives.
The elderly man nods. “Thank you for taking the time to listen to the ramblings of an old man. You have a nice evening. And enjoy New York. I think you’ll like it here.”
“Thank you for your kind words and advice,” I say as I scurry away and head back to the car.
Christopher
“What do you mean she’s gone?” I demand when Ms. Evans tells me Ember isn’t home.
“She was getting a little cabin fever,” the woman explains calmly, when I’m feeling anything but. “She went to Central Park.”
“Central Park? Alone? Are you fucking kidding me? How did she get there? Whose idea was this? Ms. Evans! You were supposed to keep an eye on her!”
She reaches out and places her hand on my upper arm. “Calm down. She’ll be fine. She has a driver with her and will be home soon.”
“Ms. Evans! Ember can’t just leave the house and walk around. It’s New York! Are you crazy?”
“You can’t keep her locked in a gilded cage, Christopher. She needs to explore and learn to grow. I understand your need to protect her, but you’re hurting her by keeping her locked away in this house with no one but me as her company. I’m watching the poor girl fall into depression. It’s not healthy, and you know it. She needs to get out, meet people, and be active in day-to-day life. She also doesn’t want to disappoint you, Christopher. So I think she’s not being completely open and honest with you. And she’s trying hard with your mother. I can see she wants her approval so badly.”